Creature City Revival

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ResidentPagan

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When the Creatures of International Rights hold up traffic in protest, a protest against the oppression they face, people start to realize something has to change. When they shout from rooftops with slogans on signs painting a picture of their lives after being affected by the 'normals', people start to listen. When they tell of lives not being valued, a revolution is in motion. As more and more families start to leave their homes in search of peace, the Humans and the Creatures are divided. Years later, in the distant future, a law is put in place to prevent further war and conflict. Creatures have their land, Humans have theirs. Grandparents tell of the conflict and protest, and the younger generation listens.
For years, humans and creatures remained in peace on either side of the border splitting their territories. Creatures didn't see humans, and humans didn't see creatures- except for those few that wandered across the border. They were slaughtered, by select members of both sides assigned to patrol the border to ensure such a thing didn't happen. Eventually, the two sides began to forget what the other looked like. The legends of the war remained, and the struggles they went through, but nobody remembered what the enemy looked like. Until one day, centuries later, when a tiny human, small and curious, managed to slip through...

This is a re-vamp of the original Creature City thread between me and a couple of friends.
 
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The girl sitting cross-legged on the floor, passed the joint above her head to her older brother, who was currently having some kind of existential spiral. Today was her birthday. Goddamn nineteen. Chance was nineteen when she married.

Minerva had stayed up til midnight to celebrate, and Vince had bought her a new CD and some weed to listen to it with. The box fan blew the smoke out the opened window into the cool summer night.
"I mean shit, sometimes you look around and wonder when you're gonna get a piece of the limelight too, yknow?" Girls have it easy, Abner thought dully.

"Girls do not have it easy," She popped him on the head with the back of one of her six hands. "You ever had to sex up old men for cash lately?" Ok, so apparently he'd thought that out loud.

"Point taken." Uncomfortable on the floor, Minerva scooched over on the matress, turning the horizontal Abner over and propping herself up against the headboard, setting her legs on her brother's torso.

"Oof, hey, I ain't a footrest."

"The boys in this family all have the same plan: Grow up, join the family business. What's my plan? I don't wanna get married. I wanna have a life first." Either Abner was really tired, or she wasn't making sense. He sat up slightly.

"Are you saying marriage will kill you? Last I checked, ma's been married forty years, and she's alive as ever." Abner snorted, before realizing just exactly what he's said.

"Yeah, but her husband isn't." Minerva interjected, offering a strange, wry grin. She shouldn't be happy, after all, Hans' end had been a brutal one. But it was also a deserved one. The conversation went onto other things quickly. "Marriage isn't life. It's a prison! Every man I've met talks that way. Why can't I?" She cried into the lonely room. Being buzzed made her melodramatic, Abner thought, taking care not to say the statement out loud this time. He rolled his four amber eyes her way.

"You're a woman. Girls? They're supposed to want to get married and have kids," he pressed his hands over his eyes, blinking as he fought off sleep. Minerva crossed her arms; she'd heard enough of this shit from her past dad without having to hear it from her brother.

"Oh," She shot back, "and you're a man. You're supposed to have a wife and provide for your family. How does that feel?"

"I'll get married…someday," Abner looked in his mind's eye to the future, "And I'll be an asset to the family business, so there's no question I'll be uh, able to provide. If I have kids, there's a good chance they'll be able to take this whole place over once I'm gone," the fact his brother had no children either, was huge competition, and not a drug addict hadn't escaped his mind.

"You're not foolin' anyone," Minerva laughed. When she laughed, she showed those needle-like teeth, flipping her head back. Her brother with a wife? And kids? Bull.

"Just 'cause it's your goddamn birthday doesn't give you free reign to laugh at my dreams, okay?"

"It's just, well, you know," she pulled her legs off him to sit cross-legged, elbows digging into her knees and chin perched atop her palms, "It's pretty obvious to me. You don't have to hide it." Whatever the fuck she was talking about, it sure as hell wasn't obvious to him.

"Ahhh, you better damn well elucidate, sis, 'cause you've got me stumped."

The Araneae didn't want to come right out and say it, so she proceeded with what she saw as very heavy handed clues instead, "You. With a wife. That's a joke, right?"

His entire face swirled together like he'd tasted a bad lemon, "What do you mean 'a joke?'" he rose, eyeing the girl with his hurt pride on show.

"You just got a reputation is all," she shrugged, blowing a swirling cloud of smoke out of the corner of her mouth.

"I'm- I'm young. I don't gotta be strapped to a woman just yet. I can still have fun," The lanky spider set the ashtray sharply and crossed the floor to close the window.

"Hey, no, leave that open. It feels nice out."

"It's getting a little late. You'll need to be up for your birthday breakfast in the morning," He dismissed his sister as he turned the music dial downwards. He decided he wasn't so keen on that Anarchy shit Minerva had been blasting for the past hour. She was fond of Vince's tunes, and that made him pretty wired too. Vince wasn't the most trustworthy guy for his sister to hang around with.

"Come on! Why're ya mad, huh? Quit being so grouchy."

"I have the right to be grouchy! This is my room. I can- I can be as grouchy as I want!" He protested, two arms going up in a weak exasperation.

A knock at the door preceded Hector opening the room to Abner's door a cautious few inches.

"Hey, maybe think about keeping it down. Chance is sleepin'. She had a tough night." The two spiders nodded solemly at that. Their shiftmother's sleep was important. He squeaked the door slightly more open to see Minerva sitting pajama-clad on the bed, "Oh, and a happy birthday, Min."

"Thanks, Hector."

"Actually, Minerva was just going." Abner looked at her expectantly, made a shooing motion, but she shook her head in a cheerfully defiant manner, placing her hands in her lap.

Hector didn't want to disturb the scene anymore, especially with his brother's nasty glare, so he decided to duck out, "Well, goodnight."
 
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The hunger had passed after a while, and Jet had retrieved Annabeth and Alexis from her friend's mansion. Now they were at home. It was late, and the kids were all sleeping, but Jet wasn't.
She was on a roof in the rich district, staring up at the moon again in silence. Memories twisted around her mind; specifically, one from when they'd been kids.

The two soared over the city; one with wings as black as the night sky around her, the other with wings as white as the moon. They weren't supposed to know each other, of course; a Vesrux like her and a Tesin like him were supposed to be enemies. Luke came from the rich district, and Jet didn't. Still, they snuck out to play at night, when the sky was theirs and theirs alone. They'd spin around each other in tight loops and swirls and arcs, playing tag and chase and all sorts of games. Normally one of them would lose their balance and fall, but the other would swoop and catch them. They practiced aerial dances up there, illuminated by the moonlight; a joy that Jet no longer knew after years of running this business.
God, when was the last time she'd even spread her wings for reasons other than combat?
"Jet," Luke had said once. They'd sat on the rooftop of his family's manor next to each other, facing the moon. "Would you marry me when we grew up?"
"Pfft, no!" Luke had seemed shocked and hurt at Jet's blunt rebuttal. "I wouldn't marry you. We're from different places. Backgrounds. As friends, sure, we're great. But you hate my family, and your own aren't exactly fond of me. You wouldn't like what we do either. I wouldn't wanna bring you into that."
"Is that why?"
"That's why."
Luke shrugged. "Then...I'll go to work with you. Do what you do. Then we could marry?"
Jet barked a laugh, leaning back on her hands and staring up at the moon, her raven hair cascading down her shoulders. "Nah," she teased. "You'd cry the night of your first job because you missed your family too much."
"I would not!" Luke protested, to which she only laughed. "Hey, I wouldn't! C'mon Jet, that's mean!"
"..."
"Fine, I'll prove it to you."

Jet sighed, mimicking that same position now. Leaned back on her hands, head tilted up to look at the moon. The roof she was sat on was opposite Cecelia's; it once belonged to Luke's family, when she was younger.
They'd all mysteriously died, though, or moved elsewhere. The building was now abandoned.
"I wouldn't marry you," she said to the moon, softly. The moon just stared back, not changing. "I very nearly did. But I said I wouldn't."
She sighed, glancing down at what she held in her palm.
A single, snow-white flight feather, the size of her own, cleaned of the blood that stained it when she'd found it.
"You never had to prove anything to me, Luke."
 
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Dominic waves at the grey buildings surrounding them as if giving a grand tour. They're in the shopping district, tailing another lead. Even though the place is advertised as the most visually stimulating part of the city, Dominic dismisses it as dull. Creatures baring diverse faces pass by them, jostle around the two in busy directions to reach their destinations.
"I'm famous back home, you know that?" The Harpy laughs in that sardonic way of his that makes Roman want to throw a punch at him. Knock those shiny teeth right out of his constantly moving mouth.
"Are you?" The Jackalope coolly eyes him as they walk together close enough to be hand in hand. Dominic looks incredulous at the question, as if this fact should be obvious to his partner.
"Oh, here I'm just another face in the crowd, but back home? Back in the Nesting Grounds? Famous." He rolls his tongue as he says it, sweeping his wings out extravagantly amongst the other bustling creatures and accidently knocking a Vampire backwards. He pretends not to hear the infuriated snarl behind him.
"Why?" Roman had found nothing extraordinary enough about the Harpy in their time spent together. Apart from his penchant for bragging, that was.
"Why am I famous?" Dominic repeats. "I am famous, my friend, because of this." He motions with a gloved hand to a single tortoise feather by his open wings. It stands alone in contrast to the rest his feathers, which are varying in colors. To Roman's eyes, mostly yellows and oranges. He snorts, making the Harpy blink at his non-awed reaction.
"What am I looking at, here?" He wrinkles his nose, scrutinizes this lone, pathetic feather. If he wanted, he could pluck it out with a single swipe.
"You're looking at what makes me pure eye candy for the ladies down at the Nesting Grounds." Roman had understood that Harpies measured attractiveness differently to other creatures for some time, but this seemed ridiculous. Feather colour was a pleasing breeding trait down there?
"Girls can't keep their hands off me when I fly on over. Makes me, as they say, mucho sexy!"
"Do other male Harpies not possess this trait?" Roman asks with a sarcastic level of interest.
"Well..." Dominic cocks his head to the side, considering this. He thinks about what other creatures found aesthetically appealing in features for a moment. For Jackalopes it was antler size, he knew that, and for Araneas.. Wasn't it something about fang differentiation?
"Yeah, they have feathers, but not nearly as colourful as mine. Guess I'm just genetically blessed." He hums idly. Roman pushes ahead of the crowd, already tired of this conversation.
 
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She was there again.

Clad in a silvery dress with a slit from heel to mid-thigh and layered liberally with dark, lavish furs, Cecilia Aster-Pitch had slipped from the ballroom and up to the third-floor drawing room of her manor. None of her guests had noticed her go even though she was the birthday girl; at twenty-one years of age, she was the youngest Baroness in the Noble Families. She'd been given the title promptly after her father died. This birthday ball was the first event she hosted as head of the Aster-Pitch household and heir to its fortune - it had to be magnificent.

Still. She was there again on the second-storey rooftop of a house across the road. Cecilia was unsurprised - she'd been doing this for a month. The Wendigo stepped to the edge of the room's glass wall, sipping champagne from the crystal flute held delicately between her long, grey fingers, and watched her friend Jet stare up at the moon. The creature hadn't visited her in a long time. Since moving Annabeth and Alexis out of her wing of the house, Jet had gone quiet and Cecilia had been left cold as to what was going on in the underbelly of the city. But then Baron Aster-Pitch died, and her attention had been captured by the immense new power she suddenly wielded.
That didn't mean she wasn't curious as to why Jet was hiding from the rest of the world on this particular rooftop in a district she had no real place in, just staring at the moon.

"My lady?" A voice sounded from the doorway. Cecilia didn't turn. "My lady, no guests have noticed your absence yet, but -"
"But you did." The Wendigo girl finally moved from the window to face her speaker, her wispy red hair lifting from her shoulders as she fixed her doe-eyed gaze on him. It was her newly-hired butler; she'd fired almost all of her serving staff as soon as her father died and hired only a handful to replace them. One girl, she'd decided, didn't need in excess of sixty servants.
"My lady, my job is to notice these things about you. A good butler must serve his Baroness wherever she is in her manor."
"Quite," said Cecilia dryly, glancing once more at Jet out of the window. "I'm coming back down, no need to worry - send for the chefs to bring out the cake. It's about time I cut it. You're dismissed."
The butler bowed low, turned and left the room. Cecilia's suspicions of him increased. As Baroness, she knew half her staff would be spying on her - but who was this boy's master?
 
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Jet let out a long, soft sigh, glancing over at the house just nextdoor.
Cecelia Aster-Pitch.
She was fully aware her friend had seen her here; had felt her gaze on her just now. It reminded her that she was long overdue for a visit. Whether she had it in her or not.
The mansion was lit up, emnating warmth and life. Music seeped through open stained windows and smaller balconies, and for a brief moment Jet remembered a time when Luke had taken her to one of these balls.
She shook her head, swinging down from the rooftop and in through the window of the house below. The lights were off, of course; since the death of the Aplio family nobody else had wanted to move in. They thought the place was haunted. She supposed she didn't exactly help that image.
Still, this was the second part of why she was here. Luke had left her family his entire fortune; it was enough to move her up into this district, if she wanted. She didn't, not for herself, but she knew Galzra had been fascinated with the area for years, and he certainly had the demeanour to fit right in here.

So she was playing housemaid and cleaning up the building for him to move in.
The bottom two floors were spotless, and already Galzra inhabited these floors as a lone bachelor new to the district. Jet was debating moving everyone up here; away from that small flat above the cafe that held so many memories and into this new area that had none. It was close enough to the district's border that she wouldn't have to worry about sneaking around to get her contacts. Galzra was already fully immersed in the new wealth and starting to do business, keeping up this family's newfound wealth and building a name for them. Since they were virtually unknown in the other districts, no incriminating data was held against them. Whilst not the turn Jet thought her life would take, she certainly wasn't complaining. The Helarisi family could move in with little damage.

There were two more floors to clean; she stood presently on the fourth. Making her way down to the third, she bumped into Azur, who seemed just as surprised to see her as she was to see him.
"Cleaning up?" she asked, eyebrow raised. He nodded.
"Figured I'd lend a hand where I could. D'you reckon we're gonna move up here?"
"Not sure. It's better than where we lived before." She raised an eyebrow, as if to test him on why.
"It's further away from anyone that might want to attack us, yet close enough that you can still maintain your contacts. Galzra can live the life he wants whilst we can live the life we want and give Annabeth the best chance of survival."
Jet nodded, proud of her boy. "Indeed. Any news of that man yet?"
"None so far. Been busy cleaning up."
She snickered, patting his shoulder. "I'll excuse you for that. We can get this floor done by sunrise, the next floor done tomorrow night and announce the family's arrival in the district soon."
Azur nodded. "We'll see how that goes down with the district."
"I doubt it'll go too badly. We're a small house; won't draw too much attention. However wealthy we may get." We just need to keep Galzra on that path.
 
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"They shot the HiveKing?" Cullette grips the telephone reciever tightly. Her antennae twitches to process this information.
"Yes, Lets. They did."
"Awful business."
"Terrible." Her sisters' voices chorused down the phone, two of them muffled. There was a tremor in her usually well behaved left wing. The Vespa's thoughts feel vague, surreal. She moves about her kitchen, rearranging plates and piled cutlery. For a long time, Cullette had predicted this would happen. He appeared uncommonly frequently in public, and the HiveKing liked to cruise the bad parts of the city too.
"It's those Araneae. They killed him over fifty credits. Fifty damn credits." So it had been a scuffle, a midnight mugging gone wrong.
"How is it for you over there?" Cullette enquires. She purposefully leans towards a certain brand of concern, so as not to feed into her sisters' paranoias about the Araneae. She supposed at any other time she would have agreed, cursed their names, but the wasp realizes she can't exactly do that now. Not now that she's let an Aranea, Minerva, stay at her apartment and eat her food and engage in actual conversation with her.
"Bad. The sisters have gone to chaos. The brood mothers are sick with it." She had always hated that, the complete lack of independence her sisters always bared in the face of disaster.
"Look after yourselves, will you?" She pleads with them, pleads with fate over the phone.
"We will." They promise. The receiver clicks.


"Two billion folks in this place. Two billion. And you've got your panties in a twist because we killed one guy?" Vince talks openly, words weaving in amongst the pleasant buzz of diner chat.
The spider lowers his head. Tries to consider this fact- that in the cosmic sense it all meant nothing. Then protests.
"But-"
"Shut up and drink your milkshake."
 
Azur prowled.
He'd done that a lot recently, finding reasons to be away from the house for one thing or another. Presently, he was "looking for rumours about the human child" as once again, due to Jet's expert hand, people had been convinced that she no longer had any leads on the kid- last she'd heard, it was in another town and no longer any of her concern. Her family didn't hugely busy themselves with hunting the child, they had a district to run.
Currently, he was on the border between the middle- and lower-class districts. It was a bloody obvious line; one half of the road was clean, and it stopped in the middle of the road, suddenly embracing the grime and poor quality typical of the lower-class district. Diners of varying status stood to either side, and he was fully aware he stood out. How often did a demon wearing a fine suit appear in such an area? He liked this. Felt it gave him the effect he wanted.
Still, he'd been hoping to bump into someone, anyone from this district to go out and have a chat, maybe a drink or a meal with. He was looking for new partners, perhaps someone to look at marrying from here before he sought out some adventurer from the wealthy district. It was in this sense that he differed from Galzra, who was happy to adjust and settle down to the quiet rich folk life for the most part; he craved adventure and the bloodlust of a good fight as much as it craved him. Both drew towards each other.
The only problem was that he didn't know how the fuck he was going to find anyone to talk to here, much less strike up a relationship with. He'd had Galzra and Jet; that had been enough.
He remained in that flat above the cafe. Someday, perhaps, he'd move with the rest of them; perhaps he wouldn't. Jet had given him leave to set himself up here as the new King of the middle-class district should something happen to her. But only then, and he wouldn't dare speed that up. Still, whilst having the place to himself was good in a sense, he did feel drawn to the resplendence of their new upper-class home. Who wouldn't? Lavish suits, fine wines and balls were his cup of tea.
He could get that here if he knew where to look. Currently he merely strolled, keeping himself looking easily approachable despite the gentlemanly attire.
 
He's happy. Happier than he's been in a while. Not real happiness, he isn't even sure he'd know real happiness if he felt it, but it's as happy as someone like him really can be, given the circumstances.

There's a part of him that feels pretty damn awful about that all the same, or knows that he should. He isn't a good person. He doesn't deserve happy things. Maybe he could have been, if things were different, but how different could it get? He's a bad person. He does bad things. He doesn't feel nearly as bad as he should for doing those things. Years ago, when he still believed in a God as more than a vague notion, or a hope to be called on when his back's to the wall, Dominic might have asked for forgiveness. But he knows better now. Men like him only face judgement at the hands of worse men. And that's alright with him. He's big enough and bad enough that only a real monster of a man could judge him, and at that point he'd probably deserve it. In the meantime, he talks to anyone who'll listen, croons to his upbeat music, taps his feet and shuffles.

"When we find this kid, what's going to happen anyways?" Roman turns to him. The Harpy scratches his face awkwardly as he says it, finding the question difficult to ask. A three day stubble grows by his jaw and cheeks, and when the sun hits the patch of short-cropped festhers they glint like an oil slick. To the Jackalole, this strikes him kind of funny. Bird of Paradise his ass.
"We bundle them into a van. We drive the van to Chief. We get our pay. Then?" He shrugs his broad shoulders. Whatever happened then was nothing to do with them. His voice is harsh to Dominic, indifferent.
"Your apathy never ceases to amaze me, my friend."
"Just what's that supposed to mean?" Roman bares his teeth, leans close enough to make his smaller partner flinch.
"Nothing."
 
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Azur blinked. These people walking just behind him...they seemed to be hunting for the kid. He didn't see how they could be useful, merely that he ought to report to Jet that people were still combing these areas to find the damn child. He'd have to find that stupid guy soon, for better or for worse. Faintly, he wondered how well-known he was to Jack's crew. Judging by the fact they'd referred to a Chief, plus their rough nature that he could even sense from here...yes, it was obvious they were members of his mother's friend's crew.
 
"Hey," Abner sips his drink through a multi-coloured straw, displaying all those busted, sharp teeth in his mouth like a child in a commercial. -Beck's Blueberry milkshakes are out of this world! Exclaims the smiling poster child, a junkie spider with the face of a kid, Vince thinks.
Abner swallows the rest of his milkshake, then stirs the straw around the high-top glass like he's nursing on an idea:
"You're not- you're not banging my sister are you?" He finally asks. Vince doesn't even look the kid in the eyes, only stares vaguely ahead at the spider's reflection. They watch the people pass through the diner windows for a moment in silence.
"What in the hell gave you that idea?" The Araneae and the Hyanid had got to talking about other matters now. It turned out Abner didn't like lingering on the subject of the dead for long. In a way, Vince was right. What's one stubborn rich guy in a sea of others who would gladly take his place, anyhow? A growling hoot of laughter comes from the Hyena's broad chest. Abner looks nervous suddenly.
"Well, for a start," He feels the need to speak up for himself, justify his concern- "For her birthday ya bought her that album, like a sugar daddy or-"
"Can't a guy get a friend of the family something nice on her ninteenth without it being a declaration of love?" Vince grins, a sleazy grin that could mean anything. He shifts in his chair, feeling stupid for even asking. Hell, did he even want to know what this guy, twice his sister's age, might or might not have done with Min?
He turns away, pulling a disgusted expressions. Sometimes Vince was just the worst.
The spider watches the crowd for a while as they walk by the front of the diner. In his mind he makes up stories for the creatures passing by, possible backgrounds to entertain himself. The Nereid wearing the wet blanket on their shoulders was actually a secret billionaire, and-
Vince taps him on the shoulder. He gestures ahead to a Demon passing by on his side. "Get a load of that guy." The hyena raises an inviting brow, and Abner buries his face in his hands.
"Nuh-uh. No more of that. I mean, look what happened last time!"
 
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Years of training alerted Azur immediately to two pairs of eyes trained on him. He shifted his gaze. An Araneae and Hyanid were watching him from inside the cafe. Discreetly, he angles his path to move inside the diner instead, making it look as though that was his intended path all along. He didn't particularly care about the two boys behind him anyway; Jack's whole crew was onto the kid, and it was likely these were the two Jet had spoken with already. So he didn't bother as he wandered in, ordered some food and sat in the booth directly behind theirs to gauge their reaction.
 
They worked a lot of cons, and most of them were easy to work once you got the gist of them. Some depended on the personality of the mark, others on the nature of their greed. The area of city they were situated in, was a grey place, perfect for their small-time cons. On a good day, perfect for mugging, even. But Abner wasn't so fond of going down that route most days. It was a risky business, which was why pulling a trick was his preferred method of stealing. In their time, they'd noticed not a lot of snappy dressers passed through their part of the city. A lot of lowlifes, sure, and most simply down on their luck, but a snappy dresser was rare. Vince had made a certain deduction about the snappy dressers in question, a one which for the first time would prove wrong. As they watched the man slink through diner doors to sit behind them, Vince leant over, mouth scraping Abner's ear. "Change of plan. We're pulling a heart-stopper." Abner let out an audible sigh of relief. The idea of tailing the Demon to his place of living to rob him of his cash sounded opportunistic, and when it was opportunistic, it was hasty. Hasty as in killing a respectable man outside a car park because he was acting all kinds of stubborn with handing over his wallet.
Vince usually had a sense regarding the folk who pitched for the same team. Those who went out twice a month with their wedding bands tucked into their pockets- as in the back-up singers, the inspectors, and the collectors. Abner was sweet to them. He'd suggest a room in a hotel he knew, and off the mark went with him. In Vince's eyes, he looked like a man who'd go willing. Then after that, it was show time.
"Go on over."
"I barely held it together last time." Abner whines. Why couldn't they just eat in good company without having to weasel some poor schmuck out of his money?
"Go." The Hyena repeats, shooing the spider out of his seat.
 
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Azur grinned. Well, they'd taken notice. He slipped into the guise of someone who'd just come to experience the views downtown; not common, but it happened. He flirted lightly with the waitress as she delivered his food, his casually suave remarks making her giggle and blush. She departed eventually, leaving a slip with her number on. He pocketed it, chuckling softly. Of course he probably wouldn't call her, but it was nice to entertain them, make their shifts a little better if he could. He sat, waiting for one of them to approach.
 
Abner's lanky frame moved out of the booth, turning in the direction of the Demon. He put on his most salacious grin, pushing strands of hair back from his forehead. Behind him, the large frame of the Hyanid slid out the doors of the diner, leaving a tip in one swift move. If all went to plan Vince would wait for them at the hotel, but as a front desk clerk with access to the room keys. Usually the mark wouldn't recognise his features, simply sidling on past Vince and gliding up the stairs with his new pal.
"Guess me and that waitress had the same idea." Abner picks his opening line, confidently moving to perch at the Demon's table.
"Over here you must get all the special attention." The spider remarks, draping an arm over the back of one seat. Usually he let the marks pick him up first, but up close, he's suddenly not so sure this Demon in particular would go for a guy like him after all. Vince had told him once or twice he had a few cute features, the way a stray cat might have, but set him against folks from the richer part of the city and he became dirt again.
"Out of interest, what's your name, mister?" He knows he has to deliver the lines right, barely leave the mark with time to think.
 
Azur raised an eyebrow. "Why, aren't we bold tonight?" he replied, a lazy grin spreading across his face. He could have sworn he recognised this guy, making a mental note to check for his details later.
He knew he'd have the Araneae with just that grin, really. Jet had been lucky in the sense she'd managed to pick a rather attractive bunch of characters for her little family. The only exceptions he could think of were the kids; but then, they were kids. He couldn't tell yet.
"My name is Azur. And what, might I ask, is yours?"
 
Abner lets one of his hands creep across the table, his body scooting closer like they were two seperate parts of a whole.
"Abner. It's nice to meet you." He puts on a simpering tone. Sometimes the upperclass folk liked that, liked the difference between themselves and his kind distinguished. He looks up from underneath lashes, head bent low. Underneath the table, his left leg bounces up and down. Whilst it hadn't been his initial intention to pull a con on his trip to the diner, he remembered quickly he was running low on the funds for his drugs, and if he didn't want those blasted withdrawals catching up on him he had best pull this one off smoothly.
"I'm gonna be honest, Azur. The moment you wandered in here I had my eye on you." He laughed. "You're a good looking guy, what can I say?"
 
Abner. A very interesting name. Again, highly familiar, but he couldn't place the name.
Azur chuckled. "Well, I'm certainly not about to say no." He stood, leaving payment for the waitress, and held out a hand for Abner, grinning.
"Did you have a place in mind, Abner?"
 
Abner took the Demon's hand in his own. "There's a place down near mainstreet. Not a great hotel, but a good one. It's the Imperial?" He cocks his head to the side, ending the sentence in an open ended question. They stepped out of the diner together.
"So, what's a Demon like you doing in this part of the city?"
 
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Azur nodded. He knew the Imperial, and most of the people who ran it. "Sounds good." He followed him down the road.
"Oh, it gets so stuffy in the rich district. So many people that just want to go to fancy balls and throw all their money away on lavish parties. Don't get me wrong, they can be fun, but my brother attends them almost every evening now. I came back here to loosen up and get back to my ropes, so to speak." He certainly wasn't lying. No harm in feeding a few loose tales to the Araneae. "What about yourself? What's your tale?"
 
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