IC Black City

[MaryGold]

BLACK CITY, WASHINGTON

the city never sleeps at night

Cervia's capital and the country's largest city. It is always bustling with business. While most of the city is a concrete jungle, the outside perimeter is green and lush, with a few farms and suburbs.

FORECAST​

DATE: October 29th, 2035. Friday.

TIME: 5:30 PM. Afternoon.

WEATHER: 45.9°F (7.7°C). Cool, slightly crispy, dark clouds overhead. Rained earlier in the day and is predicted to rain again.

CITY ACTIVITY​

There's rarely an hour where the city isn't buzzing, though, in some parts, it is a little quiet due to the somber weather. With kids out of school and people getting off their nine-to-five jobs, traffic is busy in the City Center.

Decorations for the upcoming holidays have already started making appearances. Not only for Hallow's Eve but for Magi Moore as well. The excitement has been stirring in the citizens for a while. Even some of the royal family members have expressed their anticipation, planning their own parties for friends alike.

Things are in a "peaceful" state so far, with hardly any negative outside interference. Drafting has ceased, and the crime rate appears to be lowering. A clean surface look is what the city has always been best at giving.

However, for those living in lower-class areas, particularly the grey slices, things have been off. Some community members have gone missing, and no, it has not hit the news spotlight. It has yet to cause panic, but they're more on guard than usual.

CITY NEWS​

Look Forward to the Rain!
It should be a little drizzle. [It will not be, it will be heavy rain, to be exact. A whole storm. Try not to get caught in it, some lights may go out.]

Artemis Saki Begins Hallow's Eve and Magi Moore Charity for Young Magi Orphans!
"No child should be deprived of their culture, and good childhood memories," says Artemis Saki of the Viridi House and Professor at Blackwell Academy. Hosted at the Aspen's Orphanage today through the holidays, Saki hopes to provide the children with Hallow's Eve and Magi Moore traditions and games. They will be taking donations and volunteers well into the holidays.

UPCOMING EVENTS

Halloween Party at Dionysus!
Black City's notorious nightclub will be throwing its annual Halloween party, and many will be sure to show up!

Children's Magic Talent Show
All Magi children ages 10-15 are allowed to participate! The winning prize will be the limited edition spellbook Sir Hallycon's Book of Spells, Incantations, Divination, and Potions, a channeling orb, and an arcane puzzle box.

Ana Maria Belle's Masquerade Ball
Every year, Ana Maria Belle from the House of Sanguis hosts a ball on the third day of Magi Moore. It will be held at the Opera Hall, and all are welcome to attend. There will be many games, raffles, dancing, food, and fireworks. No mask, no entry.

- More fun activities will be added later. Can add any of your ideas too.

NOTABLE LOCATIONS​

• BetterHealth
• Black City Library
• Blacke City Bar
• Blackwell Academy
• Déjà Vu
• Delirium
• Dionysus
• Haute Hell Tattoos
• Just Desserts
• Le Fay Books
• Lippon Law Firm
• Little Miracles Market
• Mr. Somerled's Carpentry
• Saint Benoist's Home For Children
• Skoll's Table
• Take It Cheezy Food Truck
• The Grandview
• The Imperial Palace
• The Inheritance Hall
• The Mirage
• The Opera Hall
• Wheel be Alright

[See Buildings and Businesses thread]

TIME SKIP LIST

• 1st Time Stamp
• To Be Announced...

 

[wren.]

hh

hh

CIAN

Shit, if he had rubbed his eyes just now, he would have absolutely ruined his eye makeup. He would have screamed. So, yeah. He's bored. Transcendentally bored. How do you manage to be bored in a shop full of magical items, Cian, you might be wondering. Probably because he has worked here for some 10 years now. He knows every crystal down to its mineral composition and every spell book down to its author's notes. Sometimes they get new things in, but it doesn't take him long to understand every possible use of an item once it gets into his hands. He's always been a bit hyperfocused when it comes to studying magic and other magic-related fare.

Usually, he'd entertain himself with whatever customers are in the store, but currently, there's no one here. Even Rosy isn't scheduled to arrive for another half an hour since her hours are kept light because of her other job at her family's mortuary. It seems most people have been trying to avoid the off-and-on rain, and the fact that it's prime dinner time doesn't help matters. Then again, he can never really be sure what to expect. Customer influx is almost entirely unpredictable for a shop like this — there are so many Magi in the world, practicing so many different crafts, after all. A flock of Light Magi might burst in during the morning or early afternoon when the sun is at its brightest, and their magic at its peak, a school of Water Magi might trickle in to take advantage of the rain, a murder of Darkness Magi might come when the sun is beginning to set. Then there's the matter of work and class schedules. In a city as busy as this, it's near impossible to keep track of lull times.

But here one is, and here he is, leaned back in his cushy chair behind the counter with his legs propped up on the polished glass housing various sweets and other small trinkets, watching the raindrops grow heavy and eventually fall down the shop windows. Why they even have such a wide selection of candy in such a store is beyond him — his boss had mentioned it being a method of keeping customers returning, but they don't exactly sell out of the stuff. Nobody comes here for candy.

Which means that there's plenty left for him to steal. Which he does. Quite often. Exhibit A: the sucker in his mouth. Blue raspberry. Because he's not a heathen. He's already checked his phone a million times in the last hour, and he's doubtful anyone has gotten up to anything exceptionally interesting since then. Most of it is party information. Hallow's Eve is right around the corner, after all, and then Magi Moore will follow shortly after. What's your costume this year? seems to be one of the most pertinent questions now. He's had his own planned for quite some time. What, you think a Spirit Magi isn't going to prepare for Hallow's Eve ahead of time? Unfortunately, he's getting up in years now, so his options are more limited than they were when he was younger. It would be a bit embarrassing walking around in those elaborate costumes of his younger years and the skimpy costumes of his 20s, so he'd gone for a simple scarecrow costume.

Anyway, perhaps he should put on some music?

Before he can select a song from his phone, there's that familiar tinkle of the door's bell, and he glances up to see an elderly woman shuffling her way into the shop. Not their usual demographic, but he's seen so many oddities that nothing really surprises him anymore. "Good afternoon," he smiles around his sucker, removing his legs from the counter to look a little more formal. The woman says nothing. Just shuffles her slow ass through the aisles. Alright, bitch, be that way.

Jeez, she moves at a snail's pace. This is going to take a while. He tosses the now empty stick of his sucker into the nearby trashcan.

​

"I'm sorry, ma'am, we're out of peridot crystals."

"Can't you check in the back?"

It takes a great deal of self-restraint to keep from rolling his eyes. "I can assure you it would be a waste, I keep close tabs on our inventory," he replies coolly, grin still fixed firmly in place. Hopefully, it feels mocking.

The woman huffs, and he's surprised dust doesn't puff out with the air. "Where is your manager?" With the exaggerated flair of a waiter unveiling a dish at one of those fancy restaurants where the napkins are folded like animals, he gestures to his nametag that is proudly emblazoned with 'MANAGER.' The old bat squints, clearly taking in the word for the first time. Then she grunts indignantly as if she couldn't easily find the damn rocks elsewhere. "This is ridiculous!"

"I'll double check for you," he decides, "But don't count on anything."

He heads to the back room and proceeds to stand there in the center, doing absolutely fuck all. Of course, he's not checking the boxes. He's already well aware of what he'll find. They don't have any damn peridot. He taps his manicured nails against one of the emptier shelves as if typing on a keyboard, enjoying the clicking noise that reverberates throughout the space. After a few minutes, he heads back out to the counter, affirming that they indeed have no more peridot crystals. The old crone accepts defeat with a little grace at least and leaves after purchasing some sage.

Well, but now he's back to being bored. Jeez, at this point, he might even welcome Simon and the other little shits who love to vandalize the place. Okay, they're not actually that bad. Yes, on occasion, they bring in a stray who likes to steal a couple of things, but on the whole, they're pretty harmless. He's not even sure why they hang out here so much — Simon and Alois are too poor to buy anything most of the time, and their friends usually just come along for emotional support or something. It seems that, for some reason, he was elected as one of them, and now he can't shake the little fleas off. In full honesty, though, he does like them. They're like the younger siblings he never had. Dodger, in particular, has become a good friend of his, the man much less gremlin-like than his relative. His interest in Spirit Magic has been genuine, and he's always happy to show off his talent to others.

Simon, though. Well. Simon is a whole other matter. Cian isn't blind, nor is he inexperienced (no, certainly not that!) — he knows when someone is infatuated with him. He can't pinpoint when exactly it happened, but it's been some years since Simon became more touchy with him, and now he's not afraid to cling to him entirely. There's also the looks he gives to the people that Cian flirts with (for the sake of sales... mostly) that speak of nothing but bitterness. It's... sweet, really. He can't say he minds it. Simon is adorable. He's a little irresponsible, but his positive attitude is something to behold. His loyalty is admirable, and, well. He's pretty easy on the eyes.

And that's exactly why Cian can't do anything about the situation. Simon is too sweet. Too kind. Cian can't just bang him and drop him like everybody else. He can't break the kid's heart like that. So he doesn't comment on it, turns his head when Simon's mismatched eyes look at him with too much affection, and pretends to be oblivious to any romantic gestures. Simon's young and hot-blooded — he'll find someone else soon enough. Hopefully.

Now he just has to get through the last few hours of his shift.

「 N/A 」

LOCATION | INTERACTIONS | MENTIONS

code by wren.

 

[wren.]

hh

hh

ISIAH

"Tour went well, sir?"

"Fantastically, Frederick," he beams as he slips into the backseat of his Bentley, allowing the hotel's bellhops to shove his bags into the trunk. He's exhausted — but it's a good kind of tired. The successful, I-just-finished-touring-the-world-to-be-worshipped-by-adoring-fans type of tired. His reflection in the rearview mirror of the vehicle, though, doesn't look all that tired. Good, his skincare regimen is working perfectly.

The vehicle's clock reads 3:52 a.m., which seems about right for how dark it is outside. Poor Frederick had to wake up in the middle of the night just to pick him up. He's getting up in years; he could probably use the sleep. But this isn't the first time Isiah has required his services at such a late hour, and it will certainly not be his last. He'd like to blame his Vampirism, but it's mostly because he's Isiah Fisher. If Frederick really hated it, though, he could just quit.

Besides, it's not his fault his flight ran late. The plane was initially meant to land in Black City at 8 p.m. but was delayed due to bad weather and thus arrived at about 10 p.m. instead. He hadn't been able to get much sleep on the plane despite the comfort of first-class seats, so he'd been aching for some rest. He'd hailed a taxi and headed to the nearest highly-rated hotel, slept for a handful of hours, and then rang his driver over and over until he'd roused the man from his own sleep.

"I'm going to assume the house is still perfectly intact. Soos didn't manage to blow it up while I was gone, did he?" The question is primarily just for the sake of conversation — obviously, the maid would have alerted him if she'd seen anything amiss during his absence.

"Everything is as you left it."

He hums appreciatively, flopping down on the backseats with a contented sigh. Goodness, just the car's vibrations could lull him to sleep. The bellhops must have finished their job because he can feel the car moving now in earnest as Frederick pulls away toward the road. Pulling out his phone, he finally takes a look at all of the messages he hadn't bothered to look at when he'd first landed. He shoots Soos a quick text to alert him that he'll be home in an hour or so, adding a brief minor threat that he better not have destroyed anything. It's unlikely the man is up at this late hour, but he wouldn't put it past him to still be awake, either. He's only known the man for less than a month now, but considering they'd met when he'd found Soos inside a dumpster, well... it was immediately apparent that he didn't always make the best life decisions. And that assumption held up over time.

Cordelia might very well be up, though. Hello, my darling ~ Flight ran late, but I'm driving home now. Are you busy later this evening?

He moves down his list, sending similar messages to his friends, as well as a quick note of arrival to his boss-and-bestie. I can be back to work on Saturday if that works for you. Still need to sleep off this jet lag. Kay, thanks, love ya! And he does, just as anyone would love a friend who pays them. Isiah doesn't need the money he makes from playing for various establishments, given that he already makes as much as he needs from his concerts and royalties on the few songs he has written in his lifetime. It's more to give him something productive to do and an excuse to hang out in clubs and casinos that doesn't make him look like an alcoholic gambler. Cass, either out of favoritism or a lack of need for his services, has been extremely lax in scheduling and pretty much allows him to come and go as he pleases as long as he's there when most needed. The benefits of being a high-demand pianist. He's just glad that he respects him like that. Unlike certain other bosses that he has had.

His fingers hover over Vince's name, a smile tugging at his lips without his permission. Should he tell him that he's back? Hit him with that 'guess what, asshole?' Or should he just show up at Dionysus unannounced? Or...

He presses the phone against his mouth to hide his wicked grin, the glass cool and smooth against his snickering lips, and contemplates if this is really the move he wants to make. Yes. Yes, it is. Before he can think too hard about it, he dials the number. "Hello, police?"

​

At one in the afternoon, consciousness comes to him gradually like a tide lapping at the shore. He feels much more energized than he did hours before, but that might be because of the sun as well as the sleep. Unlike most Vampir, Isiah doesn't feel as sluggish during the day, and he gets a particular zap of energy around this time when the sun is bright. That is, of course, because he isn't just a Vampir. Not that anyone needs to know that. He can't even imagine the horrors he'd have to experience if anyone noticed his insensitivity.

But now, since he's alone, he can enjoy the heat and light coming in through his white, sheer bedroom curtains. He stretches lazily like a cat, the silk of his champagne robe barely covering his modesty as it flows around his shifting legs like water. He has no responsibilities to deal with today, so he could very well just stay in bed if he wanted. But no, his friends likely want to see him. He should definitely at least stop by Dionysus.

Speaking of the club, how's Vince holding up? He doesn't expect him to be in any real trouble — he's much too clever for that. Sending the police to his place on a tip is just a way to inconvenience him for a while. Has he sent them on their way yet? Is he angry? His face probably got all red. It does that. How he hasn't dropped from a heart attack yet, the world may never know.

He rolls over, snatching his phone from the nightstand to send the man a quick text. He never did send him a notice that he was back, after all. Just got back — did you miss me? ;) he sends, along with a flattering selfie that took him way more attempts than he'd care to admit. There. Vince has no proof that he was the one who called the cops.

Now he can actually start his day.

​

Of course it would rain the day he gets back. Of course. During his bath, he'd heard that familiar sound of drizzling, which had only increased in volume as he went about his time-consuming morning routine. He'd been so looking forward to a night on the town, but that seems unlikely to happen now. The rain doesn't let up until around five, so he might as well eat dinner here, right?

He winds up cooking up a basic dinner of steak and potatoes, making sure to keep the steak on the rarer side for both his and Soos's sake. Especially for Soos, as the man struggles to ingest any blood that isn't either presentable like this or entirely hidden within a smoothie. Irresponsible, indeed.

That's why he'd taken the stray in, sympathetic to his hybrid status of being half Magi and half Vampir, just like himself. It was obvious by his emaciation, not to mention his blatant homelessness, that no one had taught him how to take care of his Vampir half. He'd never thought himself cut out to be a father, but Soos attached himself to him as if he was one despite their similar ages.

"SOOS! I MADE DINNER!" he shouts when he's finally done around 5:30, hoping that the man will hear him from wherever he is in the mansion. He moves to the kitchen island to eat, feeling utterly silly for being dressed in one of his nicest suits while stuck inside. He should have kept the robe on for comfort's sake.

「 @Dusk | @Justin | @wisteria | @o0peachie0o | @MaryGold 」

LOCATION | INTERACTIONS | MENTIONS

code by wren.

 

[wren.]

hh

hh

EDMUND

He would like to state, firmly and clearly, that Anastasia was not his first choice of musical when he'd been deliberating this winter's production. Personally, he'd have preferred something more... classic. Like The Nutcracker or A Christmas Carol. Beautiful scores, beautiful messages — you can't go wrong with those. But he's nothing if not fair, and so he always looks for his employee's opinions on the matter. He doesn't necessarily always listen to them, but he hears them out nonetheless.

It had been Lydia's proposal, mostly. Then Ethan and Sasha's support quickly followed. He's aware of the story of Anastasia, of course, and he would never claim that Once Upon a December is anything short of beautiful. But, well, it's a newer musical, and therefore less trustworthy. He doesn't mean to sound like an old man praising the innovation of the past, but well, the modern-day has given them things like Be More Chill and Heathers, so. It has shown that it can't really be trusted for quality or originality.

So when he'd heard about a musical adaptation of the Anastasia story, of course he'd been suspicious and reluctant. But upon actually giving it a listen, he was pleasantly surprised to find that it was actually quite good. Not the best thing he's ever heard, of course, but not the worst by a long shot. Plus, it's important to stay at some level of "current," isn't it? To keep relevant? Not that his theatre is at any risk of bankruptcy or anything. They still sell out regularly, which he ascribes to his incredibly versatile and talented cast and creative crew. This, then, obviously leads him to praise himself for having the superior mind to select all of these people and give them the most suitable roles so that everything always goes perfectly.

​

The cast had only just been decided a couple of weeks ago, and the set and the costumes are still being worked on, which means he's had to be at the theatre a great deal to oversee the project.

"This snow is much too plastic to present as real. More like sequins than anything. Not even the most poorly-sighted individual would believe this. We need something more finely-grained." He lets the poor excuse for snow fall through his fingers back into the plastic baggy being held by his visibly overwhelmed scenic designer. Before the man can respond, the director Irina shoves her way through the seats where Edmund sits, waving some rolled-up papers like she's about to begin a rendition of Gee, Officer Krupke.

"The costume designer has design ideas she'd like you to take look at," she says, Russian accent thick, handing him the papers as the scenic designer slips away. Back to his drawing board. Or back to raid another craft store, more like. He better not come back with some cotton ball idea.

"That was quick." The look he gives it is brief, preferring to take them into his office to look over with more of a critical eye. Mrs. Sanders's designs are always spectacular — he wouldn't request her services so faithfully otherwise — but sometimes they differ in opinion for the finer details. "So, how's it going down there?" he asks, referring to the rehearsals going on down on the stage as if he can't hear anything from his seat.

"So far so good," she hums, "Good casting."

He smiles and tries to keep it from looking smug. "Oh, it was easy enough. Many of the actors are extremely talented, and Lydia and Ethan are some of the most adept that I have. Plus, they're quite close, so their chemistry is good — it seemed only right to cast them as the romantic leads."

Irina nods her understanding, then turns her attention to her watch. "We should probably take break," she informs, "It is around dinner time."

He purses his lips, unsure if it wouldn't be too early. Fine. He stands and claps his hands together with a smile. "Food break, everyone!"

He ignores the various sighs of relief, taking his seat again and whipping out his phone. He forgot to bring food for himself, so maybe he should order something? Will it even arrive in time for him to actually eat it?

Are we still meeting tonight to discuss your manuscript? he texts Akira. He'd met the man a handful of months ago at one of his shows and he'd been intrigued enough by him to check out his work. As it turns out, the man is exceptionally talented and criminally underrated. So he'd partnered up with him, acting as a sort of... mentor, if you will, to help him grow his career. Currently, Akira is working on a novel that they'd discussed adapting into a play, and he's meant to be finishing it any day now. Ideally, he'd like to get the adaptation done by the Spring season, but that's probably not realistic.

「 @MaryGold 」

LOCATION | INTERACTIONS | MENTIONS

code by wren.

 

[wisteria]

CASSIUS

Cass returns from the cellar with a Hibiki 21—specifically requested by one of their higher-class patrons—when a notification brings his phone to life in his back pocket. Pulling it out, he sees it's a text from Isiah—his drinking/whoring around/fucking shit up best friend—who happens to be back from his tour. Finally.

Cass replies, Thank fuck, I was beginning to feel lonely, before heading back into the bar.And right away, a group men capture his attention and seem to ruin his good mood.

The entire bar is much more crowded than it normally is, and that's saying something considering this is Cass's bar, and it is a Friday evening. The night owls are finally emerging and the suits leaving their offices are beginning their weekends early. On top of that, there seems to be a storm brewing, and people are finding their solace in his bar. Cass doesn't normally give fuck all about who comes into the bar—unless you count the weres across the street, no matter how hot some may be—but when he notices this particularly rowdy bunch of businessmen crowded around the bar, he makes his way over. Fiona is working the bar, so it's not hard to guess why the men have decided to congregate there, but her expression suggests it's anything but an uncomfortable interaction.

Cass makes his way behind the bar, finally catching some of what they're saying to Fiona, and... no wonder. Fiona, trying to tend to other patrons sitting at the bar, keeps her eyes from looking anywhere near the group of men.

"Fi, can you do me a huge favor?" Cass asks, touching her elbow to get her attention. He hands her the bottle of whiskey and continues, "I need you to take this upstairs and tend to our VIPs. I've already kept them waiting a little too long."

Fiona widens her eyes in relief, but replies, "Of course, whatever you need."

As she makes her way out from behind the counter and past the VIP curtains, the group of men groan and begin to protest.

"Aw, man, she was having fun with us,"one of them states with a laugh as he eyes the dark red curtain, hoping she'll return. "C'mon, Cass, don't be so lame, let her come back!"

"Ouch, lame?" Cass laughs and shakes his head, mixing and pouring several green tea shots for a group of ladies. "Besides, Fiona is great with our upper-class clients." He then adds, "And that's Prince Cassius to you."

He loses his smile and watches the men grow uncomfortable—just as uncomfortable as they made Fiona feel—until they dispersed into the crowd, regrouping at one of the tables in the back.

When Cass spots Micah—his go-to for taking care of troublemakers—he spots the were to mention, "Micah, my guy, do me a favor and keep an eye on that group back there. They've been causing some trouble and I'm not in the mood."

Though Micah is a very large and intimidating were, he's actually way too nice. Though, no one would know it, and Cass absolutely uses that to his advantage. He adds, "Push 'em around a little if you need to."

He shoots the group of men one last smirk before returning to tending the bar.

Cass has never minded being seen as one of the people, but in moments like these, he loves to remind others of his status, who he is, what he's actually capable of... Hell, he could probably even get away with murder—not that he'd want to sully his own hands with someone's blood—because, who would dare go against one of the royal children?

It's rare, but necessary. Like with this group of shitheads.

Speaking of murder, though, one of his favorite patrons—Cass has many—pushes his way up to the bar, seats himself on the last empty stool, and orders a Fireball.

"My man, Harlan! For you? Anything," Cass replies excitedly. Though the man rarely speaks more than is necessary, Cass is always happy to see him. He pours a glass for Harlan and one for himself, setting it on top of a black napkin in front of him. "First one's on the house, since it's been a while the last time you've come by."

He clinks his glass against Harlan's before downing the whiskey. "You just get off work?" Cass asks, as he turns to the tap to refill a few beers.

There isn't much going on in this city without Cass knowing about it, Harlan's profession no less, but he still likes to make conversation with his regulars, and most of them like being singled out by him. Though, Harlan may not exactly fit into that group...

「 wren., Dusk 」

Code by Jenamos

 

[Ghostie]

hh

hh

PENELOPE

Penelope sat against her favorite tree, watching the waterfall and enjoying the smell of the dew drops on the grass and dampening the dirt underneath it, Penny loved when the weather was like this. Just coming off of a storm and another one on the way later? Yes -- Penny was in heaven. The sound of the waterfall and nature around her was calming as she drew. Pen was in the zone, and couldn't help but audibly groan when her phone rang in her pocket. "Hello?" She mumbled, her pencil taking place in her mouth for the moment.

"Nell, I know you're out in the woods and I want you to get back into town. You know a lot of crazy shit's been going down in Black City." Her brother Lionel's voice rang through her ears, worry in his tone. And although she was appreciative of her brother's care for her, Penelope couldn't help but laugh at his suggestion.

"You do realize you told me to leave the woods where I could probably hear and escape a killer better, and go to the busy crowded city where I'm going to be around way more people where my senses aren't as keen?" Penelope and her family were aware of the creepy murders that were happening, and of course, she was scared; but as much as she wished she could hole up in her room and close herself off from the world, life had to go on. She'd learned that a long time ago.

"Penelope!" Her brother was slightly irritated but she could still almost hear the hint of chuckle that he was hiding behind. "Alright, alright, I'm gonna listen to you! But only because I have to be at the shop to talk about a tattoo, not because I'm scared of some weirdo!" Lionel scoffed a little. "Even though you are."

"Fuck off Lionel!" And with that Penny packed up and made her way to Haute Hell Tattoos.

➹➹➹
​

"Hey Jo, has Aurelia shown up yet, am I a late asshole?" Penny questioned, hanging her jacket up on a hook before she started getting ready for her day as a tattoo artist. Jodelle laughed a little, looking up from her tablet at the plucky brunette. "Nah, dude you're good. Is she finally getting her first one?" Jodelle asked to which Penny just shrugged. "I hope so! I have a few ideas I've been throwing around here and there, but they haven't settled on anything yet. I haven't shown her the latest ones since she's been.. ya know incarcerated." Penelope laughed. She loved creating art that people would love and showcase on their bodies forever! And she especially loved doing people's first tattoos.

「 @wren. 」

LOCATION | INTERACTIONS | MENTIONS

code by wren.

 

[LashL]

-M O N T A G-
LOCATION | INTERACTIONS | MENTIONS
​

This was so stupid.

Montag Lo had just spent the evening (and most of the day) cleaning up a crime scene, some deal gone wrong was all he got out of the few burly looking gentlemen in black who guarded the basement of some restaurant. It had been a long night, making three bodies disappear and making the storage room look spotless took a lot of time and effort. Monty didn't mind the work, of course not, it was what made him the most money, and it wasn't like the worst work. At least he wasn't hauling trash, or in some ditch somewhere. Once he was done with the work, Monty had gone to get his payment, expecting a hefty sum for doing as good as he did, at least a grand, maybe 2 bands. Monty's actual payment? 200 fucking dollars. THAT WAS IT?! Almost 18 hours of straight work for 200 dollars!? Montag was going to go off on those black cladded brutes had they not had a couple of pieces hanging on their hips, and there stern looks letting him know that they weren't afraid to use it. So taking his measly pay all in paper, the man was now walking through the concrete maze of the city, trying to find his way home.

If he wanted to keep any of his cash, there was no way in hell he couldn't spend anything on a cab. "Stupid cheapass wannabe gangsters.." Even now the blood magi was grumbling to himself. He looked exhausted, heavy bags over his eyes, a pair of glasses to try and hide it a bit. Dressed in a ruffled blue button up, now half tucked into his tan trousers, and a matching coat that he had thrown over the whole thing. He looked somewhere between a disgruntled office worker and a corpse that had just gotten out of his coffin for the first time in years. Pulling out a half smoked, hand rolled cigarette from his pocket, the man would light it, taking in the last vestiges of the sun before it became Friday even. That meant more work, more pay, but more time away from sleep, from the sanity of his apartment. "Oh well... who cares? You're getting paid... even if its fucking scraps." Digging for a couple of bills from the wad of cash he was given, Monty decided he needed a drink. Maybe more than one, but that is to be seen.

Picking up the pace a bit, he would start pushing pace the occasionally the slow walker, Monty would eventually find himself in the comfortable glow of the Blacke City Bar. It was a place to get a cheap drink, and he was a regular of the place, knowing most of the bartender by name and had once or twice ended up in one of their beds. Monty never minded, he liked the attention when he could get it, as positive experiences seemed to be few and bar between. Stepping in, he was welcomed to the glorious sight of many many bottles of liquor on the wall, a small crowd of businessmen among the place. Monty probably looked the part, and really didn't want to, but had no choice. Where the hell would he ditch the jacket at? As he got up to the bar and finding no seat to sit, Montag would stand at one end a little awkwardly, looking to the bartender with a weary smile. "Evening uh..." Shit, Monty for a moment couldn't even remember the guy's name, exhausted from his long hours of work. Taking a moment to rub his eyes, he would rack his brain quickly, chuckling as it simply wouldn't come to mind. "sorry... been a long day, could I get a Moscow Mule, please and thanks? double on the vodka.. need something strong tonight." He was already holding a twenty in his hand- probably double the price of the drink and then some. Even if Montag was going to have some shit luck, he was still going to make sure to tip people good.

@wren., @wisteria

 

[wren.]

hh

hh

CECELIA

Whether sex work and pornography is inherently good or bad has been a heated debate among feminists for decades. Does it spit in the face of intimacy, prey upon disadvantaged groups struggling to find employment, and encourage objectification and violence against women through its usage of sadomasochistic images? Or does it provide an opportunity for women to get in touch with their bodies and not feel ashamed of their sexuality, does it subvert the patriarchy by using those bodies to take men's money, and is it a legitimate source of income for those with little chance of being hired elsewhere? In all likelihood, the answer probably lies muddled in the middle, but Cecelia doesn't usually trouble herself with such arguments anyway. Ultimately, her strip club earns her money, and that's the most important thing in her opinion.

Decades ago, she never would have thought herself the type to open such a club. Sure, she'd always thought people should have the right to do whatever they wanted with their own bodies, but that rampant eroticism wasn't something she was eager to attach to her face. Prejudice, maybe, but mostly she had just wanted to seem respectable in the traditional way. So she opened up her nightclub, which was fine, but it didn't do nearly as well as she'd hoped it would. And after... everything, she eventually reached the conclusion that like it or not, sex sells. Night clubs are practically a dime a dozen in Black City, and given that her own... collaborator Vincent opened up his own club, she figured it would be best not to step on any toes. Strip clubs, however, she found to be surprisingly uncommon, and of those that existed, they all seemed to leave lawsuits behind like a trail of slime.

Which meant she'd have no trouble recruiting staff by simply offering good working conditions, and with her flair, of course the club would be a hit. And when she finally opened the place, her predictions were correct. She offered reasonable pay, flexible scheduling, actual days off, and most importantly — the promise to chop off the wandering hands of any customer who didn't recognize their place. Literally, in some instances. Only the best get hired, of course, unless she is feeling particularly generous, and that paired with the club's excellent selection of alcohol, popularity found them quickly.

It is a perfectly respectable joint, her taste leaving the various fluorescent lights that might have appeared gaudy anywhere else seeming playful and charming. She always has entertainment playing, some band or other with enough talent to captivate an audience, generally abstaining from groups whose style is too aggressive and loud for the maintained elegance of the building. She can't have any of their patrons — or anyone else, for that matter — getting the wrong idea about what kind of place Delirium is.

​

"No child should be deprived of their culture and having good memories from their childhood."

Cecelia taps a manicured talon against her smiling lips, the image of her friend Artemis projected proudly from one of the club's few silent television sets. Artemis and her charities. It's sweet, really, but Cecelia herself has never found schmoozing with the less fortunate particularly rewarding. Usually, she'll donate a great deal to Artemis's causes, partly out of friendship and partly for the metaphorical gold star points. But she rarely attends the events herself. And besides, a were supporting a cause for magi? Her presence would be more shocking than her absence is. Although perhaps that's all the more reason to go...

"Ms. Katz," a voice interrupts, belonging to her bartender Eros. His actual name is Elijah, but several of her staff choose to employ stage names, even the ones that never actually go onto the stage. The name is uninspired, but he's pretty enough to make up for it with his flaming curls and his dark puppy dog eyes peering behind the small black and white masks the employees must wear. She would probably sleep with him if she didn't want to seem like a stereotypical boss sleeping with her employees. "Would you like a refill?" He taps her now empty whiskey glass with the neck of the bottle of expensive bourbon, muscular arm flexing beneath the thin short-sleeved dress shirt he's required to wear.

"I probably shouldn't — I'd hate to get buzzed this early in the night. Thank you, though, darling," she purrs, caressing the underside of his jaw gently. What? She didn't promise not to touch them. All of her staff is used to her fleeting touches at this point, which she of course keeps from the neck up. She loves watching the mix of elation and anxiety in their gazes when she does it.

Eros's throat moves subtly as he nods, turning away to attend to one of the few patrons also at the large rectangular bar. Dinner hours are only just starting at this point, so most of the dancers and the entertainment have yet to arrive, giving the bartenders and waiters more time to shine in their less-skimpy-than-the-dancers-but-more-skimpy-than-the-entertainment uniforms. Delirium's food is, of course, exquisite. Because she wouldn't settle for less.

"Quit it, jackass!"

Oh, here we go again. With a sigh, she hops off her seat and slinks over to the table where the commotion is occurring, her waitress Melanie — also a fake name, and is using a realistic name more or less creative than just using your own? — standing in a defensive position, face twisted in disgust at the young man at the table, who looks both surprised and pleased with himself. "What seems to be the problem over here?"

"He keeps groping my ass," Melanie snaps.

"I did not!" the man defends, holding his hands up in a show of innocence, but looking entirely guilty.

"Well, sir, I have a policy to believe my employees over the words of the customer, and since 'no touching without consent' is our number one rule here," she explains, gesturing to the many signs listing the establishment's rules posted around the room, "I'm afraid you're going to have to apologize and then promptly leave."

Now he looks very much not pleased. "I'm not leaving because some bitch is lying about me. I haven't even barely touched my food!"

She checks her nails, feigning disinterest. "I'm being quite generous with my instructions here. Far more merciful than what will happen if you don't." The man just glares back at her, unmoving, probably out of some childish spite. She rolls her eyes. "Alright, well you asked for it." She snaps her fingers, getting the attention of a couple of bodyguards near the door. "Take him out back, if you will," she smiles, smug as the man is dragged away to be made a proper example of.

"Thank you, Ms. Katz," Melanie sighs, shoulders and face relaxing as she takes the now abandoned plate of food from the table to discard.

"It's my pleasure," she assures, with too many teeth.

「 N/A 」

LOCATION | INTERACTIONS | MENTIONS

code by wren.

 

[Ghostie]

hh

hh

GWENDOLYN

Knock! Knock! Knock!

"Hey, Mom, are you okay?" Gwen rapped against the bathroom door that her mother sat puking on the other side of. Gwendolyn had no idea that her mother's cancer was coming back with a bloody vengeance; and if she would've known, she was almost one-hundred percent sure that is when she'd go off the deep end. It'd just been the two of them for so long and despite Gwen growing up mostly by her lonesome and taking care of her mother, she still couldn't picture a world without the woman in it. What a drab life that would be.

"Yeah I'm okay, babydoll!" Thalia reassured her daughter through the door, yet her tone of voice said otherwise just the slightest bit. It made Gwen frown.

"Well, I have to work at the club tonight, so I was gonna head down early to grab a bite. Maybe get some feedback on my set or something." Gwen shrugged out of habit even though her mother couldn't see it through the door. "If you need anything, just call, okay?"

"Will do, honey! Tell Ms. Cecelia I said hello and have a good night at work!"

✧ ✧ ✧
​

'Another day shaking my ass for a dollar!' She laughed. Walking into the club, Gwendolyn makes her way to the dressing room to drop off her things. So far, she was the only dancer in the place considering it was still early. Hell they'd practically just started serving food, which she desperately needed to partake in.

"Eros, lemme get one of those fancy sandwiches and a vodka martini. Make it a double." Gwen sat at the bar, scoping out the crowd of customers that decorated the club and bar chairs. She noticed a few regulars that she knew would be big tippers later in the night which caused her to smile. Although she couldn't help the smirk that creeped onto her face when she noticed Cecelia giving the boot to a customer getting handsy with one of the waitresses. "Oop." She scoffs, taking a sip of her drink as the man is swiftly carried out.

And that was one of the reasons she didn't mind the work she did. As long as Cecelia was in charge, Gwen and her coworkers were never treated poorly or had put up with bullshit. Cecelia was a no-nonsense bad bitch that didn't take shit from anyone and Gwendolyn admired that about her. She was sort of like a second mom in a way, and Gwen looked up to her.

"Goddamn it Ms. Katz you're such a boss bitch and I love it!" Gwen laughed giddily. She couldn't help but fangirl over her boss a little bit. What girl didn't look up to a bad bitch that had their shit together like Cecelia?

「 @wren. 」

LOCATION | INTERACTIONS | MENTIONS

code by wren.

 

[wisteria]

FINNEGAN

Finn's no stranger to people wanting impossible things from him. Chain him up, beat him for all he cares—consensually and well-compensated, of course—but for fuck's sake, do not ask him for emotional intimacy. He's done so in the past, for the right price, sure, but that's only led to people developing feelings for him, and the next thing Finn knows, they're showing up at his place of employment four nights in a row asking for him.

Why can't they understand that this is just an exchange of services?

Finn will show you a good time, but he's not anyone's significant other. Don't get him wrong, he loves the attention. After all, who doesn't want to be loved? Only to a certain extent in Finn's case, though. Besides, most of the people who come to Delirium are probably married. Go get that intimacy from your spouse, dude.

He'd never actually say that, though, considering the shit he'll hear about them. There's no shortage of gossip being fed into your ear when you're someone's fuck boy.

Finn exits the private room, a thin layer of sweat on his skin from the dance, allowing the man to compose himself before coming back out. He pulls out the bills that were stuffed into his leather panties and counts them. Only $300? Cheap bastard.

As he's making his way towards the back, needing to freshen up before making his rounds again, he hears a small commotion, and sees Cecelia having someone dragged out of the club. Idiot must've pissed her off somehow. He's somewhat new at Delirium, recommended by some friends, so he's not close to the woman. But, fuck, is she fierce. Finn can't tell whether he wants to bed her or be her. Probably both.

He shakes his head and pushes past the back door, ready for a costume change.

「 N/A 」

code by wren.

 

[LashL]

-A S H L E Y-
LOCATION | INTERACTIONS | MENTIONS​

It had been a long day at the store for Ashley St. Roch. He had spent the last two days working on a wardrobe for some redblood vampir who had a little too much money to spend. It was some very good work in his opinion, etched into it floral designs (as requested) and a dark stain to make them pop. However, when said vampir came to pick it up... they were less than pleased. All were little nitpicks, it was an inch or two too short, the stain should be redder, things that could be changed, but Ashley wished he was told days before he started. He could work with specifics, but "vibes" were difficult to work with, and that was all he was given. So, he had spent today sanding all his hard work again, taking the top off the wardrobe to give it a couple inches. It was going to be a couple more days of work and right now, Ashely didn't even want to think about it.

No, after cooking a small dinner of rice, chicken, and broccoli for himself and his sister Harlow, Ashley decided he was just going to go for a walk. Yeah it was cold, and bound to rain again, but he just needed to get out of the shop for a bit. Something to just clear his mind, tackle the project from a different angle. So, after throwing on an easy outfit of a white t-shirt, his brown pants he had been wearing all day, a very warm feeling jacket and a thick scarf, he would head for the door, not before hollering out at his sister. "Heading out for a bit, make sure you get your school stuff done... I'll be back soon." That first step into the chilly weather had him shivering a little, still not use to the cold that this city brought compared to back home. Ashley was sure he never would get use to it. Still, it beat the alternative, so he would hike that scarf up a little closer to his lips and trudge through the wet sidewalk. He wasn't even sure where he was going, just go until he found something of interest. At least no one around him seemed to pay him any mind, that Ashley was thankful for. In this city you either you had to force people to give you space or you will be ran over. That was no problem for Ashley, who was pretty good at giving the sort of look that had people taking a half-step past him. He enjoyed the city, since there was just so much to do, even if that everything could be a bit much at times.

Walking for awhile, Ashley eventually found himself in the city center, walking down where some of the more government buildings sat. They were impressive sure, but what had the were stopping was the sign to the local library. "Man... when was the last time I read any books I liked?" Ashley would muse to himself, not really paying any mind to anyone who would listen to him as they walked by. He was having memories of reading any mystery novels he could get his hand on as a kid, enjoy the "whodunit?" aspect of the stories, trying to solve the case before the protagonist of the book. It even tugged a little smile on his face to remember it all, and before he even realized it, he was up the steps and into the library proper.

The building itself imedtitally overwhelmed Ashley, just how many books there were, and he hadn't even taken more than a few steps in. He took a moment just to stand there, take it all in. He realized he probably looked like a fool, or a lost puppy, just slowly taking steps towards a random aisle of books, but he had no idea where to start, or what he was even looking for. "...guess this way might have something." Unknown to Ashley, he was wandering down the historical book section, where college kids could come get textbooks or sources for research papers, probably the opposite of what he actually wanted. The man was confused as he pulled books out, and would be seen just moving from aisle to aisle, trying to find something of interest to read, and finding nothing.

@wren.

 

[Dusk]

JAX

Jax stepped out of the tepid water of the shower into a cold room, the crack along the windowsill letting in the frigid evening air. He shivered and wrapped himself in a thick towel. Soon he would have enough saved to get that fixed. It was always one thing or another falling apart in his insidious money trap of an apartment. He'd spent more money trying to fix the myriad of issues than the place was even worth. Not that the apartment was his — he was just its unlucky tenant stuck beneath an apathetic landlord. But where was Jax supposed to go? His world wasn't full of possibilities. He'd been dealt his hand. Bad cards or not, he had to play.

Dark-eyed, Jax stared into the mirror. Another sleepless night had turned into a restless day. But the approaching evening had brought up his mood in anticipation of that night's outing. He looked forward to seeing Halo every time. The man was nothing like the majority of his regular clients — Halo possessed a delightfully charming sincerity which had managed to catch even Jax occasionally.

Jax shook his head, sending droplets of water around the room and speckling the mirror. Then he smothered his dark hair into his towel until it was as dry as he could make it, a struggle against thick hair that refused to relinquish moisture. He wrapped the towel around himself again and moved to his small bedroom to dress. He chose a dark turtleneck beneath a silvery blouse. Jax wasn't entirely sure what he should wear to such an outing, but he was making a guess. It was a short shimmery blouse and Jax enjoyed it a great deal, he often wore it alone in warmer months. The man smudged foundation below his eyes to hide the darkness and gave himself another quick glance before slipping from his apartment.

Dressed and ready, Jax left his neglected apartment behind. The rain had stopped. He wished it hadn't, but it was better for his outfit that it had. Jax caught a bus from his dingy area in the west sliver to a nicer one, and then another after that. His home was a disaster compared to the places Halo frequented, he was sure. But it wasn't only that. Jax was protecting himself, too. Jax liked Halo but he had rules and don't let anyone know where you live was the biggest. Seemingly kind or not, Halo was still a redblood, and Jax was nobody anyone would miss if he vanished.

The hybrid waited beneath the eaves outside a fairly nice restaurant. He'd eaten there before and the ambience was better than the food, and the staff were quite stuck up. But maybe they were just that way with him. Jax examined his nails, the dark lacquer shining in the fluorescent light of the building sign. He wanted to smoke and if he wasn't meeting with Halo, he would have. Jax sighed. He hoped he wouldn't have to wait too long. Nobody noticed him, but he wanted to keep it that way.

「 @PavellumPendulum 」

Code by Jenamos

 

[PavellumPendulum]

HALO

Black City never slept and truthfully, Halo was not sure that he ever wanted it to. The city had its faults, of course, but within it, lived hundreds of thousands of beautiful souls, ones that the man wished he could get to know, one by one. Too many people cared for politics and righteousness and taking when there was so much to give, so much to learn from a single pretty face and a warm body. Halo did not claim that his life of hedonism was the only right way to live, but when he watched other vampir growl and ramble about their supremacy, when he heard of the crime on the streets, the hatred towards hybrids and everything that was new and unknown...

Well, he couldn't help but feel that his priorities were more important. And today, today was important as well. Halo was never one to be late for a date. In fact, he did not care very much if it made him seem overeager: he was usually early for such outings. With those that preferred it, he rolled out the red carpet, picking them up from their homes and showering them with gifts and flowers, but Jax never seemed very interested in such treatment. His refusal to be picked up was fine, but it did make Halo wonder what he could do to please him further, to make him feel more at ease.

In his sheer blouse, his sculpted body and artsy tattoos faintly visible underneath the deep blue organza, he stuck out in the crowd, golden rings and hand ornaments glinting in the light. Halo was not one to underdress and today was no different, though he would admit the cool breeze was forcing his nipples to become part of his outfit despite him not planning it to.

The air smelled pleasantly of rain. Halo had already parked his vehicle a bit away from the pretty little restaurant that he'd suggested him and Jax visit first, but upon seeing the other already seated beneath the eaves of the outdoor seating, he brightened up like a golden retriever. "Jax!" he greeted, gently reaching out to offer a kiss for the back of the other man's palm, his customary greeting, "We match. I should have worn my own turtleneck to match." His gaze took in his date for the evening, the note of hunger in his expression impossible to hide, but he was quick to smooth it over with another smile. He could never help himself. Halo was a connoisseur of fine beauty and Jax was a piece of art that he would never tire of.

"You look beautiful." he told him with every ounce of truth he could muster, before gesturing to the front door, "Shall we eat before we head to my exhibition?"

「 @Dusk 」

code by wren.

 

[Dusk]

JAX

Halo never made Jax wait but part of him always expected that to change. His suspicions were not Halo's fault — Halo had been nothing but lovely. But maybe that was it. Jax had been burned too many times to count, and consideration felt abnormal. Jax had arrived early but he'd barely had to wait.

After only a few minutes, Halo joined him under the eaves with a bright expression on his face. Halo had the disposition of a puppy and Jax was uncertain how the other man maintained it. It was not an attitude prevalent among his regular clientele. Jax banished the last of his melancholic musings to a corner of his mind where he could keep them for the rest of the night.

On approach, Jax surrendered his hand without hesitation. It was Halo's customary choice of greeting, and it was quite an appealing one. After his lips left his wrist Jax abandoned his chair to stand next to the taller man, leaving little distance between them.

"We do," Jax stated at the observation of their matching outfits. Although Halo had forgone the undershirt, despite the weather. His body was visible beneath the sheet fabric, and Jax could see the effect of the cold weather on his chest. The man was a tantalizing scene.

"But then I wouldn't have such a nice view," he added regarding the turtleneck, a confident smile on his lips. But Jax had to wonder if Halo was especially warm-blooded to comfortably wear that. Unless he'd forgone comfort in favour of aesthetic.

"And you're charming," Jax responded to the compliment. It was accompanied by a smooth smile reserved for all of his regular interactions. But there may have been a hint of something underneath. He liked to think there wasn't.

"And how am I supposed to just stand here when you say something like that?" He asked.

Jax didn't so much as flinch at the suggestion of eating at the restaurant, despite his distaste for the place. Maybe his experience had been a fluke. More importantly, Halo had suggested meeting there, so the other man might have enjoyed the restaurant. But it was a gamble. The food might have been the result of an off night, and Jax was sure the staff would be a lot nicer if you were a vampire.

Jax was quick to make a decision despite his reservations.

"Yes, let's," he said, wrapping a hand around Halo's and taking a step for the door. Halo was susceptible to suggestions and if Jax offered somewhere else he was sure the man would agree.

He felt particularly aware of himself in that moment.

「 @PavellumPendulum 」

Code by Jenamos

 

[Dusk]

KEATON

Crisp air bristled the hair on Keaton's arms. His mood was cheerier than usual, invigorated by the cool rain. Two notches too loud, hard rock blared through a speaker into the open room of the mechanic shop as Keaton fiddled with the engine of a truck, occasionally tapping his foot or shimmying along with the music. The vehicle belonged to a particularly fussy client with a particularly miserable car. It had a host of problems, most of which were difficult to diagnose, and the owner seemed sure it was their fault. But diagnose they did, and despite Keaton's suggestion to scrap it, the man insisted he wanted it fixed. Whatever, it was his money.

Keaton's phone buzzed on the nearby tool bench as he tinkered away. Despite the loud music the metallic vibration rang clear in the were's ears. He shifted away from the engine to peak at the lit-up screen. A text from Jo. She was in town and wanted to hang out. Keaton swung a once-white towel off of the bench to wipe the grease off of his hands. He flung the towel over his shoulder and picked up his phone. With a swipe and a pin, he opened up his messages, reading the full of the text he had mostly seen from the preview. Keaton glanced up at the clock on the wall despite having his phone in hand — a habit he'd picked up whenever in the shop. Motor fluids rarely agreed with phones.

"yeah we can meet after I finish up" he texted back, followed by a quick "give me an hour".

He dropped the phone back onto the bench with another ring of metal and went back to work on the disaster of a vehicle. Keaton liked his job. He put in long hours and never complained about overtime. His job gave him something to do. Fiddling around with mechanics gave him something to focus on.

Keaton put in his hours for the day and leaned contentedly away from the truck. They were still waiting on some parts but the transmission was fixed, at least. Keaton stretched his arms out above his head, satisfied with his work. He slipped the towel from his shoulder and once again set about cleaning his hands.

"Yo, Caleb I'm going to head out. Are you good?" Keaton called out to his coworker through the doorway.

"Yeah man, it's quiet," Caleb replied from the customer area. "See ya."

"Alright," Keaton tossed back. He didn't have to check but it didn't feel right to leave without doing so. On his way out Keaton stopped in the employee bathroom to clean up properly before striding out of the garage, grabbing his denim jacket off of the hook as he went.

The traffic was a mess. Everyone had gotten off of work right as Keaton had and the streets were crowded with tired people on their way home, many of whom appeared to have left their patience at work. Not that Keaton was exactly one to complain about that. But he was relieved when he was able to finally get out of it. He parked his car as nearby as he could get and walked the rest of the way over to Haute Hell Tattoos to meet up with Jo.

Keaton pushed open the door and let it swing closed behind him. He was immediately greeted by the lavender lighting and the aesthetic designs on the wall.

"Hey Penny," he greeted before the door had even fully swung shut. He spotted Jo a moment later. "Hey Jo," he added. She was sat at her tablet. It had been a while since they'd hung out. He wasn't sure if she had just arrived in BC or if she'd only just gotten the time to spend with him. "Just get here?"

「 @Ghostie 」

Code by Jenamos

 

[LashL]

-M O N T A G-
LOCATION | INTERACTIONS | MENTIONS​

As the crowded bar kept growing only more pack, Monty could feel himself being pushed away from the front of the bar. He hadn't even caught the attention of the bartender until a much larger man had shouldered the blood magi out of the picture of even getting a drink, nearly pushing Monty against the wall of the bar in the process. "For fuck's sake man!" He would huff, adjusting his shirt before pulling out his phone. SHIT! Monty thought to himself, I forgot my other gig! I got to get to this strip club in like... twenty minutes! He was quick to look up, nervousness flashing crossed his slightly gaunt features before he made his way through the crowd and out the door, muttering numerous 'sorrys' and 'excuse mes' and more than one 'get the fuck out of the ways' as he got back to into the city streets.

Even as he was quickly moving block after block to get to the Delirium club, Montag still needed something to eat. If he was able to get drunk and go home, he could have made himself something simple at home, but throwing out a couple bucks for a hot dog would have to work for tonight. Not working on a lot of sleep meant while he was chowing down the hot dog in one hand, he was rolling a cigarette in the other, watching as a few bits of tobacco dropping out of his hands as he multitasked. Monty was, and always will be, a bit of a hot mess. He wasn't paid to give a shit about himself though, he was paid to show up, get shit done, and not to ask questions. While he would be screwed in a few years due to this reckless lifestyle, at least he would be screwed with money.

As Monty speed walked up to the club, he checked his phone one last time. Five minutes late. "Fuck." He muttered to himself, not having even enough time to smoke his cig. "No point in dilly-dallying." With one last check of himself in a puddle on the curb, doing a little bit of a jacket shake and running a hand through his hair, he would step in to the purple lights, trying his best to put on a good face. Looking around the place, he could see quite the scene. Some fool was getting dragged off, cussing the whole time about not doing anything, all while some girl... a rather nice looking gal at the bar counter was laughing at the scene. Monty could only follow her, chuckling as he walked past him before looking for the boss lady. She was at least easy to point out, the blonde who looked like she damn near radiated power. He would walk up slowly, knowing damn well he had to act a lesser to her to get this job going, even so far as to not really look her in eye to let the woman feel superior. "Miss Katz, my apologies for being late. I got caught up with my last job and lost track of time. Won't happen again. I believe you said you need me to clean some changing rooms and VIP rooms?" Monty tried to speak and act respectfully, but the man never was the type for it, and it was easy to see he was a bit of an exhausted type, just wanting to get this work started and over with. "It shouldn't take me too long, depending on how big the rooms are and what type of... mess we dealing with, if you'd just have someone show me where I need to get started at."

@wren. @wisteria @Ghostie

 

[PavellumPendulum]

HALO

Jax always had the face of someone that was trying to soothe the tension from their face, eyes assessing you, measuring your responses whenever Halo first saw him. As if he were trying to weigh the interaction, read your heart through your chest. He was such a clever man, one that Halo was so delighted to have the honour of spending time with. Jax's hand was cool against his lips, so smooth and soft. He could hear his pulse within ever so faintly with his face drawn so near for that gentle kiss, the song of his companion's blood singing as it coursed through him. How beautiful he was, Halo could never put to words. Atoms to atoms, reused over and over again through the millennia, bound and shaped... No, sculpted, into beautiful people that Halo wanted nothing more than to show reverence to.

But that was just him waxing poetic in his own mind once more.

He laughed, his voice low in his throat and dipped in honey. "Art demands to be seen, this is true. Perhaps you could inspect the view a touch closer later, if you would like." The offer was blatant but never an expectation. Though Halo had slept with Jax, time and time again, he did insist on making it as clear as possible that it was not intention to consume him and who he was, as though he was an object with a use or a service to be experienced and filed away into one's memories.

His smile became less flirtatious and more innocently pleased when Jax took his hand, the two of them filing into the restaurant (though he, of course, insisted on holding the door open for his date with his free hand). The staff within, upon seeing him, were quick to have the two of them seated at a pleasant table by one of the walls, intimately lit with artisanal candles. Halo, always insistent on playing the role of the gentleman, pulled out Jax's chair for him before being seated himself.

"How have you been, love?" he questioned, "I believe I last saw you three weeks ago. Hallen and Berwyn Harbour kept me quite busy, but I did wonder what you were up to."

「 @Dusk 」

code by wren.

 

[wren.]

hh

hh

VALENTIN

"Did you find everything easy-peasy? Wonderful!" Val grins brightly at the haggard-looking man jittering and looking askance on the other side of the library's main desk. 'Easy-peasy' is a new word term he'd heard a mother using with her little girl on his way to work, and he'd been waiting to find an opportunity to use it. He gingerly takes the book the patron slides across the counter and places it under the scanner. "Ah, you have balance of five... dollars for, eh... Homosexuality Through The Ages," he notes, holding up a hand to emphasize the five dollars required. "It's six days late."

The man's face turns adorably pink, obviously flustered as he reaches into the bag he has slung over his shoulder, retrieving both the money and the book and nearly slamming them on the counter. "Sorry!" he squeaks, completing the transaction by sliding the currently-desired book toward Val, who smiles, unbothered, and gestures to a tray of chocolate chip cookies to their left.

"Feel free to take cookie! Baked them myself. Just try not to get anything on books," he winks, and the patron takes one with a quiet thanks before scampering off. Poor thing looked so embarrassed; how sad. What is there to be embarrassed about when sex is such a natural part of life?

Val reclines in his chair, tapping his foot to a random rhythm to kill his boredom. When he had learned of Cervia's tendency to force their customer service employees to stay on their feet, even in jobs that require a lot of staying in one spot like being a librarian, he'd been worried about the future condition of his poor extremities. Luckily, when he'd mentioned his anxieties, Petra assured him that he'd have a chair to use. A chair, indeed. A rather plush leather chair that swivels in a near-perfect circle which he uses to his absolute advantage to keep himself entertained most days.

After all, it can get rather dull sitting in silence for hours on end. He's gone through several books: mostly English dictionaries and Russian-English translation books. English grammar is bizarre. Cervian pronunciation is interesting, too. Very nasally, and with several flat 'R's. It's kind of cute, albeit puzzling.

The library is devastatingly empty. The place isn't usually all that busy on a good day, but it seems the rain has chased everyone home after work instead of out. So, his eyes wander, landing on the book that has just been returned. He purses his lips, tracing the title with a finger. Curiously, he opens it up at a random page and is slightly shocked to see a graphic picture from ancient times. The things they put on pottery!

Suddenly, a short tune plays out, and Val startles, slamming the book shut as he looks around. His heart is hammering by the time he realizes it was just his phone. When he fishes it out of his pocket, the contact name 'Умница' stares up at him. He chuckles to himself, whisper-quiet in the silence of the library, replying to his roommate's text about dinner tonight.

Despite having only just met Petra a handful of months ago, they've become quite close. It's nice having an older Libitine who can show him how to function in a society so different from the one he was raised in. Even though she has to save him from getting run over countless times a day, she doesn't seem to truly mind helping him out, despite her vehement scolding.

Tucking the book under his arm and getting to his feet, he finds the shelf it belongs to and puts it back, glancing briefly at the 'LGBTQ+ Literature' sign as he begins walking away. Turns out, he should have been looking in front of him, as he runs into a solid body as he rounds the corner of the aisle.

"Гавно!" he shouts instinctively, managing to keep his balance. The stranger, much more sturdily built than him, seems physically undisturbed by the impact, although surprise is written on his jarringly scarred face. "S-Sorry, I was, um," What's the thing Petra always accuses him of being? "Distracted. Can I help you?"

「 @Justin | @LashL 」

LOCATION | INTERACTIONS | MENTIONS

code by wren.

 

[wren.]

hh

hh

AURELIA

Definitely the worst part about committing crimes is how boring holding cells are when you get caught. You especially don't want to spend your vacation in one. Whichever dumbass failed to catch that last camera in the Ascension Financial Credit Union on Harewood Drive and got her stuck here for the umpteenth time this month is going to have a date with some third-degree burns.

"Can the whistling, Vanderroest!"

Rolling her eyes, she turns to tapping Experience by Ludovico Einaudi on her leg instead. It's better than bashing her head against the stone wall behind her. She's never been a particular fan of classical music, but she'd heard the piece at an upper-class club she'd crashed recently and couldn't get parts of it out of her head.

She's been stuck here for three hours now, which is a long time for her followers to keep her in here. The police must be raising quite the stink about her ever-amassing charges. She's not worried, though, between the cops she already has in her pocket and the greedy nature of humanity. If her followers can't buy her way out, they can always torch the place down.

"You're here again?"

"You say that like it's a surprise," she grunts, rolling her head to meet dark bespectacled eyes. She can never remember this dork-in-a-sweater-vest's name, no matter how many times he's given it to her. She gets the feeling that she's not the only one with that problem.

"Would you like some coffee?" he asks, holding out a cup. "It might be a little on the cooler side now, though." She extends a palm, blue and white embers dancing across the skin. He chuckles. "Right. So do you want it?"

"Sure," she sighs, taking the drink and watching as the muddy liquid begins to boil in her grasp. She sips it without flinching, tongue immediately going numb. It's weird how this loser keeps trying to chat with her whenever she's here, but apparently, she reminds him of a friend of his, so that's probably why. It's pretty pathetic, really, his rambling while she pretends to listen. There's no way he thinks they're actually friends, right? Maybe he's just absurdly lonely. Perhaps if he didn't seem like such a pushover, that'd change for him.

Feeling kind, she tosses some of the drink on the man's sweater, deadpanning an "oops." He interrupts whatever he was rambling about, brows pinching and lips thinning in a frown. She waits for the impending rage and braces herself for a fight.

However, he just chuckles, looking down at the brown stain beginning to drip onto the linoleum floors of the station. "Sorry, I'll leave you alone," he says, disappearing quickly down the hallway.

Her jaw clicks, pissed by his lack of a response. What a pathetic person.

​

"Alright, Vanderroest, you can go," one of the guards barks minutes later, unlocking and opening up the door of the cage they've thrown her in.

Smirking, she keeps her head high as she slinks through the building and out the front door. There's a car already waiting for her, Firth in the driver's seat. She gets in the passenger seat, reclining into the leather that embraces her much less awkwardly than a stone wall and a wooden bench. "What'd we end up with?"

"Guys got about two hundred grand out before they had to scram," Firth answers, her eyes locked on the road ahead of them as she pulls out.

Not ideal, but it's better than nothing. "We'll try again in a month. Fortunately, we're not dying for funds at the moment. Took you an awful lot of time to get me out."

"Yeah, well. Believe it or not, arson starts becoming more serious once incidents start getting into the double digits."

"You ought to talk more politely to your superior," she lectures, making Firth snort. "Just take me to the tattoo parlor, will you? I'm already late for my appointment."

​

"Sorry I'm late!" she calls as she throws open the door to Haute Hell Tattoos, sounding completely unapologetic. "Seems my Black City firestarters need a firmer hand; they're incompetent!" she hisses, crashing down into Penelope's chair. She rolls her head to look at her, grinning. "So, whatchia got for me?"

「 @Ghostie 」

LOCATION | INTERACTIONS | MENTIONS

code by wren.

 

[Dusk]

JAX

"It is an exhibition, isn't it?" Jax replied with a wink.

Art was made to be seen, and Halo Al Nuaimi was as much a piece of art as that which he created. Jax had had the man numerous times and enjoyed it, he was a rare treat in a sea of mediocrity. Halo's pleasure came as much from pleasing his partner as it did from his own stimulation. An uncommon dynamic between Jax and his sexual partners. It was unfamiliar to him, but he wanted to explore it more.

Jax preceded Halo through the door, slipping his fingers from the other man's grasp as they entered, sure they would be entwined again later that night. The two were promptly assigned a table, and Jax wondered if Halo was a repeat customer. He decided he'd ask when the moment presented itself. Halo, ever the romantic, pulled Jax's seat out for him and Jax thanked him quietly.

And he thanked the waiter who brought the pair their menus. The staff did seem friendlier, whether or not that was because Halo's presence was something Jax did not care to brood on. Better was better, and he would take it. Jax didn't open his menu. His attention remained on his partner for the evening — on the art that was the sculpted figure beneath the sheer fabric of his shirt. His eyes crawled up Halo's body to meet his silvery eyes. Jax grinned confidently, with lascivious intent.

Then Halo asked how he'd been.

Jax lied to many of his clients. He lied to many of them without even batting an eye. Many of them wanted lies or asked questions with indifference to the answer. There were plenty more who didn't even pretend to care, and Jax had to at least respect the blatancy of that. Not that all of the people Jax was involved with feigned their concern, some of them seemed to quite like him. For them, he'd gotten good at focusing on positive truths.

Halo was a bit more than any of them and Jax answered him honestly.

"I've been fine," he replied casually. It was true enough. Very little had changed in his life since the two had last spoken. Jax had had a slow week and was glad to have the date set up.

Despite his profession, Jax lived a rather uneventful life.

"The old man across the street is receiving letters now." Jax wasn't sure if Halo wanted to hear about his observations of the people around him, but Halo hadn't told him to stop. Jax had become quite invested in the old man across the street. Every weekday for months he had gone to check his mailbox, only to leave in evident disappointment either empty-handed or with crumpled bills. But a week ago, for the first time, he had left the box in bright spirits holding a thick envelope as if it was the most precious thing. Jax had found himself strangely jealous of the parchment.

"And how was your trip?" He asked with renewed vigour. Travelling was not a high priority for Jax, and he did so rarely. However, he adored hearing Halo talk about his own trips. And Jax had never been to Hallen or Berwyn.

「 @PavellumPendulum 」

Code by Jenamos