Vampire The Masquerade RPG
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The Times
The Kindred Chronicle
Key Figures
THE MONSTER OF EALING
Last night, several people reported the sighting of a "screaming red monster" in a quiet neighbourhood of Ealing. After a power shortage in the area, a building caught fire. It was then when, what was described as a "man shaped, footless creature" emerged from the flames, leaping, running, and screaming. One woman has told our reporters that the man had "teeth like a wolf, and the face of the devil". Police officers are still trying to get to the bottom of this; neither the power shortage nor the fire have still been explained. A spokesperson from Scotland Yard has stated that the "so called monster" might be a wounded person, escaping the fire.

TRAGEDY IN TOOLEY STREET
The police has found the bodies of three TFL workers in the construction site at Tooley Street. One of their colleagues raised the alarms last week, when the three workers didn't attend their shifts. The bodies of the men have been found in a deep hole, uncovered by the refurbishment works that are taking place in the area. According to the Police, the bodies were horribly mutilated, which has led to the wildest speculations. The names of the three workers are being kept anonymous, following the wishes of their families.

HOROSCOPE
MARCH 8 - PISCES
You are used to making sacrifices, to prioritising the happiness of others before yours. Even though that is a noble attitude, there are times in life where the only healthy alternative is to embrace your own selfishness and allow yourself some enjoyment. Reserve one hour per day to do something you really like. Treat yourself! Your colour for this month is blue.
Echoes from the past ring back into London. Their intensity increases until they are deafening. What once was a faded memory of a glorious time, now becomes a shocking reality. The consequences of actions taken decades ago ripple into the present, altering the lives of everybody in the City. Unguided and blind, Kindred wander around, trying to make profit out of the reigning chaos.


The appearance of four mysterious figures turned the city upside down. Mistrust and jealousy became the official currency of London. Serpents and fiends rise to power, misdirecting the blaming eyes of the Camarilla towards imaginary enemies. Only those with clear vision and the ability to trust each other strive, while the rest run towards a shallow grave.



Across The Board
Current Chronicle: Dragons and Lions; Pride and Fire
Current Season: Spring
Controlling Sect: Camarilla



Index
Getting Started
General Information
Central London
North London
East London
West London
South London
Miscellaneous
Out of Character


Population: 31

Camarilla
Anarchs
Other
Ventrue: 1
Toreador: 5 (6)
Brujah: 2 (3)
Malkavian: 7
Tremere: 2
Nosferatu: 3
Gangrel: 1
Ventrue: 1
Toreador: 0
Brujah: 2 (3)
Malkavian: 0
Nosferatu: 1
Gangrel: 1
Setites: 5
Sabbat: ???


THE CAMARILLA

Prince

Nobody

Sheriff
Meredith Furlong
Hounds
Robyne Sheridan
Rosella Marie Allain


Keeper of Elysium
Davvad Bisset

Grand Harpy
Catherine Wilke

Primogen
Ventrue: Marcus Antonio Russo
Brujah: Thomas Krusen
Gangrel: Alexa Mallik
Malkavian: Ellora Reese
Tremere: Hannah Sundling
Toreador: Arsenio Pozzi
Nosferatu: Dogan Khojak



ANARCHS

Baron

Khoza

Baronets
Enfield: Leslie
Haringey & Barnet: Clarice Harris
Harrow: Jelena Korolenko

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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.

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Sawyer Flint's Christmas Spectacular; Closed party thread; no post order!
Topic Started: Sunday, 22. December 2013, 10:11 (6,191 Views)
Cid
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Raise the retirement age?
* * * * * *
Agustin hadn't really been paying attention to the rest of the room for a while now, too much to keep track of at that level. He nodded with mild excitement at Lucy's words. "Awesome." He would be genuinely happy, surprised, if he got anything at all. It was almost a bit much for him. Starting to burn out on all this holiday cheer. For just a second, the half-flustered Lunatic looked around again, catching the former boy-pile in it's next scene. Apparently they had spilled something. 'Ew... They got it all over the carpet...'

Turning back to the Brujah he was now sharing a dorky little moment with, he patted his backpack, still close to his chest. "Yep. I got something for everyone, too. I hope." A serious look of hope, as if he could only disappoint himself while he rambled on. "I met a witch-Lady not too long ago, mentioned that whole Malkavian insight stuff..." He knocked on his own head to emphasize the mentalness of it. "Well, if I have any of said insight, these gifts I brought should be just the things for just about everyone." He paused a moment as a sudden look of terror gripped his features. "Or they might just be the worst fucking insults possible..." He trailed off into a whisper.

Then he let out a chuckle. Seemingly random emotions dictating his responses. "Oops. Anyway. Sure I got something right for you yerself, Mrs. Cray. I don't know when our gracious hosts plan to start ripping up the wrappin' paper, though. So for now, I'll just hold onto these." He patted the black sack of specially Malk-method picked gifts again. "Anyway, I guess you might wanna go check on the big guy. Pretty obvious someone put the other kinda sprinkles on those cookies..." He said with a grin. Another quick look away. Oh, they're piling back onto each other...
Edited by Cid, Tuesday, 7. January 2014, 06:32.
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Tzippy
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Ancilla
* * * *

It was overwhelming. Stifling. Suffocating. Stuffy. Breathless. Confined.

An anchor in all the worst ways and the very best ways too.

He'd be held back. Beholden by his heart, dead now as it was, if nothing else. Slowed down in his dance through London's streets, a half step behind his sire. And perhaps, one day, it would lead to his downfall. Perhaps, it would be one of the people in this very room that would cause it. Just as he feared so much earlier, ready to flee once more to cold darkness and empty buildings. The wages of careless trust betrayal.

And yet, despite everything that had led to this moment, the pain and fear and setbacks and anger and rage, he could not bring himself to regret it. Thought that, if that would be his eventual price to make this dark world seem a little bit brighter, it was very much worth it.

He couldn't regret the enthusiastic mad man who had been both exasperation and comfort. Not the bright boy that kept smiling even as Moshe trembled to be so close to his familiar face. Not the smiling one who even now offered support without comment. Not the tall woman with gentle strength that had kept him going in these hellish last few weeks. Not the damned brat that had been his first real friend and still cared despite everything.

It hadn't been without its losses. These last few months. Weeks. Days. And damn, did they hurt to think about. Enough to choke him with their weight even now, as everything else crashed down around him. And perhaps those thoughts made him stubborn. Foolish. Not wanting to give up anymore when he had just regained it.

His old life was gone. And he had still not completely accepted it. Knew there was rage and denial yet to work through before resignation took a strong enough hold for him to close the door completely on that chapter.

But, just maybe, eventually it would be... okay.

Not perfect. Far from perfect.

But okay.

A too strong hand reached down to curl around Jhael's arm, pulling him from his trapped position on the floor. It was awkward and clumsy and perhaps limbs were jostled. But it was sure. Scarred fingers patting Jhael gently on the shoulder before reaching out to brush over Dawid's arm, across Dove's chest, to finally squeeze Sawyer's arm briefly.

It was all he could offer for now. All he would before gently trying to withdraw. To breathe again behind the barrier Sawyer offered.

It'd be okay.


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Jhael
Prince Blucher's Dinner (still not quite house trained)
* * * * * *
So many crotches coalescing over his head in a huddle of comfort and joy. Jhael jerked his hand out of the way of Dove's foot when the they all came together, then blinked and pulled his head back from the very intimate Merry Christmas from his goodies. Trying to join this thing, he got his arms in a tentative embrace around some legs and felt pretty stupid doing it, so he used Dawid's new coat to pull himself up. There we go. No longer looking like the center of something very inappropriate, he melted in even though 'group hugs' were not part of his family's holiday tradition. Maybe this was better than the tense, feigned agreeableness that was.

"Thanks. Merry Christmas," he muttered softly, giving the ensemble of shoulders a squeeze. Oops, that was a Jewfro. He lowered his hand to give the shorter man's back one of those pat rubs. "Left some presents under the tree, wish I knew you were here or I'd have got you something." Maybe Not Caning could be a holiday gift?
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Lucy Fehrer
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* * * * * *
"Mrs Craig huh?" she chuckled, smiling at him as he talked. "Well, we're in the same boat on the gifts then, hoping people will like them" Lucy winked at him before nodding as she moved to get up. "Someone put something in those cookie so probably best if I do go check on him before a lamp post start talking to him or something" people sometimes saw rather uhm, interesting things while drugged. She was for instance still fairly convinced a chair had tried to eat her once after a round of special brownies.

"Hey, here" she snatched a pen from the sleeve of her knitted sweather dress and took his hand to write a number on the inside of his wrist.
"If people start with the gifts before we're back, gimmi a call?" the Swede asked hopefully before, with a small wiggle of her fingers disappearing through the crowd of people with a "I'll be back in a little bit!" in case anyone loooked her way and wondered if she was trying to escape.

And with that, she popped out the door and headed downstairs to look for Toran.
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Toran
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The Formerly Hated
* * * * * *
At that particular moment Toran was sitting indian style on the ground with his back against the apartment building's wall. His head was tucked down against his chest and he was snoring rather heavily, having fallen asleep near the entrance to the building. His arms were crossed over his chest and he had a heavy winter hat wrapped around his ears and his coat buttoned up all the way.
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Toran's Voice

Can't leave... can't leave... can't leave the girls will eat me....
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Lucy Fehrer
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* * * * * *
The Brujah stopped and looked at him for a few moments, her arms wrapped around herself as she regarded him. Silly thing, falling asleep out on the street like that.

The Brujah sat down on her haunches and gently leaned in to cup his cheeks and touch a kiss to his lips. "Toran?" she smiled, kissing him again to gently wake him up.

"I love you, baby..." it wasn't a hugely romantic setting for saying it but, he already knew didn't he? Even if she hadn't said the words directly before.
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Toran
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The Formerly Hated
* * * * * *
A deep rumble escapes his chest and his eyes half open. Sleepy frosty blue orbs regard her and a smile splits his beard.

"I love you too baby."

The muscular man just looks at her sleepily and smiles. He yawns slowly and shifts to kiss her back. He seemed pretty content though his eyes were a tiny bit unfocused.

"I feel weird as hell babe. No idea why. I'm starting to think I ate something I shouldn't have."

He wasn't familiar with how it felt to be stoned. He never smoked pot or got high so he didn't really the odd, not quite dizzy, semi-mellow state. He felt a bit confused and yet like it didn't really matter much. All he knew was that she was really pretty. He smiled at her and tried to figure out why his ass hurt.
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Toran's Voice

Can't leave... can't leave... can't leave the girls will eat me....
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Aguirre Efrain Maddox
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Mouse
* * * * *
This might have been the most awkward moment in all of history. This moment, right here, in front of an overly enthusiastic Nosferatu recording the two of them with an iPhone gotten (and repaired) by Aguirre—who, at the moment, was staring with wide eyed incredulity at him as he dropped that little bombshell and promptly left his ‘dearest beautiful darlin’ standing there looking pretty well dumbstruck as he went off to pull the boys off of Moshe. She didn’t realize they hadn’t known Moshe was back, but it was the only thing that made sense with them dog piling him like it had been years since they saw each other. She understood why he’d been hiding behind the tree now, but this had to be going better than he imagined it would. Christmas wasn’t looking quite so awful anymore, especially as her gaze came back around to study her nephew’s mortified features.

”Jesus, you look just like your daddy,” she gave a small, but abnormally enthusiastic grin to the boy. She remembered the last time she’d seen Marcus, he was just about Cadence’s age, with the same silly hair cut, the same height, although much more proper posture than Marcus ever had. Cadence cringed slightly in response.

”Yeah, I get that a lot.”

”Ain’t surprised one little bit.”

This was incredibly awkward. Aguirre gave a pleasant grin, copper eyes flitting to the bow on the lapel of Cadence’s jacket as she gave a chuckle. She reached forward to take it off, peeling it away from the cheap fabric of his blazer. Boy, was he a Maddox.

”You ain’t gotta wear that silly thing, don’t let him tell you otherwise.”

”…Thank you. I never was partial to bows.”

Cadence had been taken in by the scene not so far from them in near the outer edge of the living room. The spillage on the hardwood floor, courtesy of Jhael, wasn’t a huge mess. Aguirre glanced over, and after a moment where both of them watched the whole situation go from cleaning up a spill to a group hug, Aguirre raised an eyebrow. She looked back at her nephew.

”Have I mentioned that I got not even an inklin’ of who those people are? Especially that big dork in the antlers. They just sorta walked into my house, y’know.. Started eatin’ all the cookies… But hey, they were cool enough to bring presents.” She smiled, which was reciprocated by a chuckle on Cadence’s end—his father used lines like these all the time. ‘I don’t know you,’ and ‘don’t do that, it hurts’ were among Marcus Maddox’s favorites.

”Ah. Just a bunch of teenage strangers on your floor, then, huh? Are—“ the Gangrel paused, watching incredulously as they proceeded to… what? ”—They… Hugging?”

”…..I think so.”

”Oh, dear.”
Edited by Aguirre Efrain Maddox, Wednesday, 1. January 2014, 05:42.
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We are all museums of fear.
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Dawid Prazmowski
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Ancilla
* * * *
Somewhere in the hug pile, an elder ghoul sniffled, then closed his eyes stiffly to prevent tears from escaping. He loathed the prospect of having to report to the Manse about this moment. This moment when it seemed he was with friends, even though he hadn't drank of their blood. Maybe it was the cookies he'd nommed. Or maybe it was just the crushing weight of the pile. But it led him to speak out:

"Mr. Klein. As it would be expressed in the New World vernacular: keep on truckin'. You have a brilliant mind. Brilliant. Utterly brilliant. Never forget! Your own self-worth is not determined by your Masters' appreciation, even though it may feel that way, at times. Ours is a path of suffering. The lone road to the top. But it can be walked amidst your fellow men."

He wrapped his arm around Jhael's waist, which was somewhere on the bottom of the pile: "Never forget! We have a Greek God among us. Not Hercules, perhaps. But Herculean tasks are still before us. Let your beauty conquer, dear colleague."

His smile was for Dove: "Dear Avian. Never change. You are innocence perfected. The painting that was brushed perfect with a few simple lines."

Finally, he addressed the lot: "You are jolly good men. The lot of you. Jolly good. Even the fellow I don't know." He glanced at Sawyer, then attempted to peck him on the cheek. "My friend's friend is my friend. Merry Christmas."
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Lucy Fehrer
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* * * * * *
"Mmm, you're stoned, baby" she tapped his nose with the tip of her finger and chuckled again. Her head tilted lightly to the side while smiling at him. "Someone put something funky in the cookies, which is why you're feeling the way you're feeling" the Brujah nodded. "It'll probably last a little while, so..." her hands were held out for him. "How 'bout we go for a little walk and get a bit more fresh air in you and get your blood circulating a bit better hm?"

One thing was for sure, with Toran in this state there was no way she was going to try tasting anything that was on the table. Because someone had to be able to drive them back home, which would be easier said than done if she up and got drunk on top of him being this stoned. And crashing there... heh, well no, just no. That wasn't an option.

"C'mon" the Brujah wiggled her fingers at him to get him to take her hands. At least, despite the size difference between the two of them, she'd be able to help him up.
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Toran
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The Formerly Hated
* * * * * *
"Urg. Figured I suppose. Yeah, walk and some fresh air might be pretty good."

He took her hand and climbed to his feet, sliding a thick arm around her waist to tuck her against his side. She was just so wonderful, so awesome. He hoped he told her that often enough.

"You're beautiful Lilbit. Hope I tell you that enough."

Huh, he had just thought that, then he said it. Then he thought about the fact that he said it. Now he was thinking about thinking about how he said it. Being stoned sucked. He was thinking stupid things. Or was he thinking smart things in a stupid way? Well, that was an awkward conundrum. He'd have to sort that out to be sure.

He rested his big hand on her hip, this thumb stroking the curve of her pelvis as he looked down at her with his frosty-blue eyes. She was just plain cool. He'd never really been cool. He wondered if she KNEW she was cool, or if it was just something that she was and if she knew about it she'd lose it?
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Toran's Voice

Can't leave... can't leave... can't leave the girls will eat me....
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Lucy Fehrer
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Art in Ink
* * * * * *
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Sawyer
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Friendly Neighborhood Vampire
* * * * * *
Man, Jhael's friend sure had a way with words, even if Sawyer didn't have the faintest clue what he was going on about. It all sure sounded nice, and he knew that each of the three gh- two ghouls and a baby Malk- needed all the encouragement they could get. But then things got a little strange. Or at least European. The kiss was too unexpected for Sawyer to really dodge it, and so the Nosferatu could only wince as Dawid affectionately pecked his exposed cheekbone.

"Name's Sawyer, pleased to meet ya," he said with an embarrassed chuckle, ducking away from the hugpile. "Any friend of the boys' is alright by me. Don't think I ever caught your name, though?"

With an apologetic smile, he made his way over to the table stacked with refreshments. Just looking at the cookies hurt, frankly, but hadn't Dove brought some sort of more vampire-worthy goodies along too? He looked over two unmarked bottles. Brandy, right? Neither had been opened so far, so Sawyer just picked up the one nearest and poured himself a glass.

Hm. This didn't taste like brandy. But alcoholic vitae had always been a mystery to him. Eh. With a shrug, he downed the glass and poured another. Wasn't it about time for presents...?
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Dawid Prazmowski
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Ancilla
* * * *
Dawid eventually did extract himself from the cuddle pile, joining Sawyer at the table that had been stacked with refreshments. "Dawid Prazmowski, ghoul" was how he introduced himself, leaving out the 'Professor' and anything else that might seem like an attempt to elevate himself.

"I've been working with Jhael and Mr. Klein for a while now. Went out a few times as well, but... didn't see you? Then, there are a lot of things I do not see. Tis not for me to know of current events, it seems, only the distant past."
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Church
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Putting the 'fun' in 'dysfunctional'
* * * *
The last glance I shoot over my shoulder is not a pleasant one. The insanity seemingly continues with Flint now joining the fray and accumulates into, dead fucking God, group hug? Are you fucking serious, bro? At least Aguirre has managed to keep her dignity, quietly chatting to yet another fucking stranger, but with a face that reads...enthusiasm? Fuck if I know. I just need to get outta there.

"Baby, you gotta help."

I'm glad to see the kitchen is empty, save for my scantily clad friend whom I share some serious benefits with. She had been the inspiration for this numb-skull idea, namely making a molotov in my living room and laying down a few facts about who 'the man' was and what 'the man' would do should his apartment get disrespected by these strange little creatures, the majority of which were apparently mere flesh and blood men. But they fucking stink of crazy.

I wonder if I should set the Mac loose on them? I know full well what's in those cookies, and her reasons for choking down anything that isn't meat, especially under current circumstances. I saddle up beside her, leaning back to check how much of Mrs. Clause's ass is on display tonight. Surprisingly, not as much as there has been. Think Church, that was at a strip joint, the other times have polarized the spectrum of normal dressing to more naked than naked. This get up might be tilting more towards the latter, though not enough for my liking. I like to see the full reach of the Kraken, trace every tendril to whatever dark and desirable place they may lead.

"Too many jokes, 'bout bein' naughty an' nice, can' even remember what I was gonna say." Well of course I can, but I find slipping my hands around her waist and tugging lightly at that skirt will lead to better things than a massacre in the front room. "Somethin' about those freaks out there. I thought you were a lil' nutty but damn...at least you're the right kind." The kind I like anyway; why can't we have a party full of sex nuts super ghouls? Or at least more hand sculpted tits I can play with...

"I didn' think this was yo kinda thing. Tree's nice an' all, Hammy looks beautiful, but you ain't buyin' into this Christmas Spirit and Slut Monster cheer are yah?" It comes out of my lips like a fact, even if it was poised as a question. Then again, she's here, surrounded by the closest thing that could be considered a friend. She's not getting soppy too is she? God please no. Not when you're supposed to be getting loaded. "You're...not. Right?"
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Mac
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Goddess of Fuck and War
* * * * *
She was choking on cookies. The first one wasn't bad, with its heavy weedy flavor she could easily indulge that much. The second cookie, with its chocolatey addition and sugar dough was pushing it. The third cookie almost made her gag. It was just to sweet, she was not a sweets person. She liked salt. When it came down to choking down cookies to be able to manage the fucking giggley mess in the rest of the house though? She knew she needed to. Or she could just leave and get baked downstairs, and try and gather the mental courage to trudge back up the stairs and try again.

She knew she wouldn't come back.

How fucked up was she, when she'd prance into a pack of Sabbat ready for a good time and she couldn't handle a -christmas party?-. She had an expression of horrorific disapointment in herself as she coughed , dry mouthed at the cookies. She needed Vodka, but she'd left her bag of booze by the christmas tree in her panick to get out of the cluttered, vampire and ghoul filled space. She ran the tap next to her, picking up a random cup off the counter and filling it with some of the cool clear liquid. Maybe she could pretend it was vodka. Either way, it sure helped wash down the fucking dry cookie clogging her wind pipes.

Then Church was at the door, exclaiming she had to help him. Help him what? Help him plant small explosives all around the apartment, so they could take the entire floor out and clean house? Help him escape by cutting a hole in the wall they could both leap to their doom through? Help him sever everyone heads from their bodies, and then line the bodies up like pins in a lane and bowl their heads at their feet? Help him strangle Sawyer for this horrible, horrible christmas party idea? Like Sawyer would be down for that, he was enjoying himself. He was one of those social folks hat Mac would never be, never even wanted to be. She was a fucking loner freak. If she wasn't killing or hunting, she liked to work out and fuck, or get drunk and rowdy and start fights. Socializing? Never one of her strong points. Infact, she got anxious when the crowds got bigger than two or three and she had to be anything but her crued and lewd self.

She enjoyed thinking about the possible ways Church needed her help as he crossed from the kitchen door, stretching up nice and tall as he came up close to glance at her backside. It wasn't on display, not while she was sitting on it. She'd have to be on the ground giving a real nice little bend over to show off the panties, as she'd wanted to have some sort of decency after bearing all and having to put up with Sawyers oogling eyes recently. Churchs hands slipping around her waist let thoughts of Sawyer slip right out of her head though, replaced so quickly by darker and more alluring ideas that she was surprised she wasn't ripping her clothes off and mauling him.

Did you just call me nutty? You've called me a lot of things, but Nutty's a new one... And would I be choking myself out on fucking cookies if I bought this bullshit? I'm having a panick attack so bad I'm using cookies to try and calm myself down... I don't buy none of this Christmas stuff. Well, maybe a little... I got you guys presents. Ain't had no one to do that for in a few decades... But none of this fucking party crap. I... I feel like I'm drowning in people. In... teenage people..

She was watching him stare down the front of her naught Mrs. Claus suit, an ample ammount of cleavage open to his lacivious green gaze. It made her grin, eyes lighting up on the way he stares so hungrily at her. You'd think they'd have had their fill of the fierce fucking and gone their separate ways, but they seemed to keep finding entertainment between the demented brain they shared.


“We could call in a bomb Threat.”


Would Aguirre and Sawyer know it was them? Most definately.
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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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Dove
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Tramp
* * * * * *
With the lovey-dovey, sappy part apparently over, another need forced its way to the forefront of Dove's mind: Food. The cookies were delicious, but Dove could not live by cookies alone - though he'd give it a go - and the smell of the curryish thing in the pot had the young man's attention long before he gave in to the call. Giving his dear, and in Mr. Sawyer's case, dead, companions a fond smile, he hurried off to claim some of the tasty foodstuffs. After all, they weren't all on the specialist liquid diet, and Dove was determined to get in there while the getting was good. After claiming a little bowl and a spoon, Dove was the first to dig into the dish, a spicy mix of all things good that was more stew than curry. Bah, details. It tasted wonderful.

"Uhf! Thiff if like, fantaftic!" So good that he found no time to pause and give his opinion, shovelling more in straight after speaking. "wiff I could cook." Bowl tucked in close to his chest, Dove wandered around and enjoyed the atmosphere of the party while making sure nobody stole his carefully obtained goodies. All these decorations, and Dove still hadn't spotted any mistletoe. Then again, maybe vampires were allergic to it. Hadn't he once seen something about mistletoe? One to check on Google, just as soon as he'd finished stuffing his face.

We don't have to wait till the morning, the Sun will never go down. And we will be this way forever.
Dove stuff!


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Cid
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Raise the retirement age?
* * * * * *
Agustin sat on the floor cross-legged. This was not much fun, really. But it was better than wandering the streets all night again for less than existent reasons. His eyes glazed over as if either meditative or sleeping with them open. Silently, in his mind he judged which of the gifts he brought might be better suited for whom. He felt for a moment like good old Saint Nicholas. Though in truth, he was likely more akin with dreaded Krampus.

He sat alone, on the floor, contemplating. All alone again, yet surrounded by people. People who surely thought little of him. They considered him a fool. Least of all for his not-so-wise-cracks. Memories danced in his mind, other past scenes of loneliness. He felt a wetness trail down his cheeks and made to brush it away, but it was dry. Nothing. Just a memory. Another perceived sense brought about by his dysfunctional mental state.

The Lunatic clutched for his bag again, his sack full of goodies that no one could possibly appreciate as much as he longed for them to. A sigh broke his silence as he glanced around at goings-on, trying to distract himself from melancholy. People told him the holidays were a time for merriment and goodwill toward his fellow man, but more often than not it seemed like a time to feel even more apart from them than the rest of the year.
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Lucy Fehrer
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Which would be about the time when Lucy, holding Toran by the hand, poked her head in and then slipped inside along with the much larger Ghoul. She had a happy smile on her lips as blue eyes darted around the place and assessed the situation. Because obviously, teenage boys was a recipe for drama. Heh, not that she could help but chuckle a little but she also did understand that the big guy got claustrophobic around so many people in such a relatively small space. So, she'd do her best to keep the stay to a minimum, although yes, she wanted to be there for the gifts.

Lucy being Lucy, she gave a small wave of her hand to Agustin and a smile as if to cheer him up. If nothing else, she had promised him she'd brought a gift for everyone, and she hoped that everyone would at last stay around long enough to receive theirs.

"Baby, want anything to drink or eat? There's gotta be some safe things on the table. At least I know the gingerbread cookies are safe" she chuckled as she glanced up at Toran.
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Toran
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The Formerly Hated
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The muscular man regarded her with a grin and shook his head. He worked at speaking softly, his deep voice thrumming quietly around them both.

"I think I'll pass until we get home. Never know what exactly is going to happen around here."

He stayed back near the wall and avoided bumping into anyone. He had no desire to trample anyone. He just wanted to stay so Lucy would be happy with the gift giving and receiving. For himself he'd really only made gifts for the people he'd known, so he felt a touch guilty. Mac was getting two, but one of them was sort of a "you're a moron" present, even though he figured she'd enjoy it.

He looked around and found a great deal less teen dog pile going on, so he was already a bit more comfortable. The tree was still standing, nothing was on fire. He supposed that indicated things were going relatively well. Looked like Mac was hiding somewhere, which was probably safer for everyone. Aguirre was standing awkwardly with... someone who looked a lot like her, also standing awkwardly... in a rather unfortunate sweater. Well, that was Christmas for you.
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Can't leave... can't leave... can't leave the girls will eat me....
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