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Boca Admins ([personal profile] bocadelmods) wrote in [community profile] theodeon2024-03-08 08:34 pm
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Test Drive Meme #1

A Choice to Make
 

In the midst of your mundane existence, amidst a meal's consumption or perhaps amidst a desperate struggle for survival, you find yourself teetering on the precipice between consciousness and oblivion. Whether it's the mundanity of everyday life or the shock of an unforeseen revelation, the next chapter in your tale is etched in the unfathomable tapestry of destiny. Abruptly, a shimmering azure tear in reality wrenches you from your reality, hurling you into the depths of a foreboding cavern. Within its shadows, two sinister whispers assail your senses, each vying for control over the path you must tread. One beckons from the left, promising dominion and power under the aegis of an enigmatic ruler, while the other lures from the right, pledging a noble crusade for justice and salvation. With each step, the choice you make echoes with the weight of eternity, determining the very fabric of your existence

As you stand at the crossroads of fate, the air thickens with anticipation, suffused with a palpable sense of ominous uncertainty. The leftward passage glimmers with an otherworldly allure, hinting at the seductive allure of authority and supremacy. Yet, the rightward path beckons with an ethereal glow, resonating with the righteous fervor of a hero's quest to vanquish darkness. Each voice, a siren's call to divergent destinies, casts its spell upon your soul, weaving a labyrinth of moral ambiguity. For in this twilight realm where the veil between worlds grows thin, your decision is not merely a choice but a covenant with forces beyond mortal comprehension. Whichever path you elect to traverse, know that the consequences shall echo through eternity, shaping the very essence of your being in ways unfathomable to mortal minds.
 

  1. Evil

 

Emerging from the left tunnel, you step into a labyrinthine city carved from the very bones of the earth, illuminated by flickering torchlight that casts eerie shadows upon the twisted visages of its denizens. Monsters, grotesque and malformed, roam the streets with a purpose that sends shivers down your spine. It becomes chillingly apparent that within this infernal metropolis, your destiny lies entwined with a bid for power at the side of a shadowy sovereign. Amidst the clamor of preparation, the temple to the enigmatic entity known as the First Evil looms ominously, its dark allure drawing in supplicants like moths to a flame. Should your throat grow parched from the fervent chants of devotion, the Cantina offers solace in its crude embrace, a sanctuary that exudes an aura of ancient malevolence amidst its clay and stone walls.

 

Yet, amidst the sinister ambiance, whispers of knowledge beckon, promising insight into the machinations of this unholy realm. Seekers of truth may find guidance from well-intentioned demons or delve into the esoteric depths of the Stacks, where secrets lie entombed within dusty tomes of forgotten lore. As curiosity compels you to explore further, the Bringers, sinister heralds of the impending darkness, stand ready to lead you to your abode, a cold stone sanctuary where dreams are haunted by the specter of impending conflict. And for those who prefer the solace of steel and the embrace of weaponry, the armory awaits, a chamber resonant with the echoes of impending strife, offering a grim reminder that in this realm, even sleep is fraught with the specter of violence.


          2. Good

Venturing through the right-hand tunnel was a pact, a commitment to a harrowing struggle that now unfolds before you. Emerging into the realm beyond, you are met by a spectral figure, a girl whose countenance shifts with each passing moment, a testament to the legion of vampire slayers that populate this accursed domain. She, like her brethren, is both warrior and guide, leading you through the labyrinthine streets with a cryptic explanation that betrays the gravity of the task ahead. Together, you traverse the shadowed avenues, passing landmarks cloaked in enigma, such as The Odeon, a den of debauchery where the echoes of revelry mingle with the cries of the damned. With a sardonic grin, she points towards the gym, a crucible where the art of combat is honed amidst the backdrop of impending doom.


 

As you journey further into the heart of darkness, the Resurrection Cemetery looms ominously, a sepulchral sentinel guarding the threshold of a towering edifice—the colossal teaching hospital that casts a pall of dread over the surrounding streets. Amidst a labyrinth of silence and apprehension, you arrive at your destination, standing before the facade of the Doubletree Hotel, its ostentatious glamour a stark juxtaposition against the encroaching shadows of desolation. Yet, even as the hotel's opulence beckons, a lingering sense of foreboding whispers tales of recent upheaval, hinting at secrets buried beneath layers of opulent facade.


A Grave to Dig – Resurrection Cemetery

Patrol, it's the nightly routine for slayers, a dance with darkness amidst the tombstones, where the soulless minions of evil lurk in the shadows, ever loyal to the malevolent machinations of The First Evil. A cemetery of this magnitude, its layout intricate and labyrinthine, serves as the perfect battleground for the eternal struggle against the forces of darkness. But it is patrol, right? Surely you're not taking a detour to The Odeon without your trusty stake and crossbow. Strange choices in these perilous times, indeed.
 

This graveyard pulses with the heartbeat of vampiric activity tonight, more undead rising from their graves than ever before. Will you recruit them into the fold of darkness, their loyalty pledged to The First? Or will you stand as their nemesis, driving a stake through their unbeating hearts? The choice looms before you, a decision that could tip the scales of this eternal conflict, determining whether you become their savior or their midnight snack.


A Party to Crash – The Odeon


Amidst the haunting melodies of an otherworldly band, The Odeon pulsates with the feverish energy of revelers seeking solace in food, drink, and a hell of a time. At the jumpstart of the bash, there’s no doubt you'll get to soak up some of that vibe. But lurking amidst the revelry, there's more than just party plans brewing.

If you've been getting those Slayer senses tinglin' 'bout the graveyard gig, hold onto your stakes 'cause The Odeon's gonna be jumpin' too. Within the shadowed halls of The Odeon, a palpable tension lingers, as The First Evil's malevolent design looms ominously over the unsuspecting patrons. In this twilight realm where the line between good and evil blurs, the clash between opposing forces is inevitable, and it's here, amidst the haunting melodies and whispered secrets, that the true test of one's training and arcane talents shall unfold.

 

ironrider: (1686549 - 2024-02-21T142241)

[personal profile] ironrider 2024-03-15 06:17 pm (UTC)(link)
Taking her hand he holds it as he meets her eyes. His smile at her introduction reaches his eyes. He doesn't know the source of why she introduces herself that way but he thinks it's kind of cute. "Diana Abel, not from the Midwest." He pauses. "Ashley Cromwell, officially. Also not from the Midwest. But, please, call me Ash."

California and New York City are the places he calls home. Only two Garou tribes felt comfortable calling the city home, Ash was born of one of those tribes. He loves living in a big city. You'll never find him complaining about the traffic or noise. Which is why in a smaller city like this he finds himself drawn to the club, it's where the people are.

Taking a seat he leans back comfortably. "The song you were singing...you wrote it?"



diana_abel: (Default)

[personal profile] diana_abel 2024-03-15 07:48 pm (UTC)(link)
Ashley Cromwell? Sounded like a nice English boy. Not that nationality especially mattered to Diana, but she did have something of a soft spot for her old home.

She eased back against the seat, trying not to upset the bites on her back. "It's called Stranger to the Rain," she said, which neither confirmed nor denied his question, but she had to be careful. Yes, she did write. But she didn't get credit. Good, old Stephen Schwartz did.

Apparently, Ashley wasn't a fan of showtunes.

"I've been composing since I was...God, I don't even know. Almost all of my life, I think." Which was completely true. "Like the piano better, but the guitar is infinitely more portable." She set her chin in her palm. "Big music person? Let me guess..." Her gaze flicked up and down, taking him in. "Power ballads? Maybe a Bon Jovi fan?" Her face split into a grin that made her eyes twinkle like the lights on a pinball machine.
visionsinprada: (22)

Cordelia Chase | Angel

[personal profile] visionsinprada 2024-03-15 11:47 pm (UTC)(link)
Arrival - Good

In the moments before her encounter with, as Cordy would say, the glittery phantom, she'd been in Angel's convertible with the whole gang. Plus one! But as soon as they'd gotten ready to leave Plrtz Glrb for the earth dimension, and LA, she found herself alone and compelled to head to the right tunnel.

How that winding path managed to spit her out in Ohio of all places was anyone's guess.

Cordelia Chase was always dressed fabulously but not usually this inappropriately for the occasion. In the hotel lobby stood a tall, brunette woman that looked like a princess from a medieval fantasy. Her outfit read as a cross between royalty and a belly dancer; she wore a precious metal studded bikini top, flowing bottoms, and a tiara. Despite her appearance, when Cordelia spoke she sounded very modern and had a pronounced valley girl tone.

Upon entering the hotel, someone had ushered Cordelia to the front desk where she soon learned about the available room, mobile phone, and $300 stipend. That came as a pleasant surprise, especially with how poorly she was paid back in Los Angeles. Cordy was assuaged... but only so much.

"I'm getting SO tired of portals and weird caves. So tired," she complained loudly to no one in particular. "Of all the ways to screw up a spell home, I end up trapped in Cleveland?"

The seer wasn't prepared for this. She'd had visions of a lot of things and yet she'd been in the dark about being separated from her friends again. Cordelia wasn't sure if they'd ended up in the same place or if she was even in the same reality. The whole slipping through tears in the fabric of reality was getting super, duper played out.

And, as much as she loved her princess attire, Cordy needed some alternative clothes stat.
burnyoudown: (043)

[personal profile] burnyoudown 2024-03-16 12:36 am (UTC)(link)
"That's sort of fucked. But-...I'm glad she was able to move on." He sounded just a touch hesitant about it, like he wasn't entirely sure it was a good thing. He guessed it might depend on the ghost? Or if there was an afterlife or just nothing at all. He sort of liked the idea that there was nothing after life, just an endless sleep. Peaceful. But he knew that idea wasn't for everyone, that some people would cling to their existence for as long as they could. He couldn't blame them for that. Not when he hadn't been able to let someone go, himself.

"Fucking truth," he muttered, before taking a sip of his drink. "I graduate next year, in the spring. Can't wait to get out." He wanted to feel like he could breathe again, move on to better things, a place that wasn't Henrietta. He wanted to study-...fuck, he didn't know. Art or nature or something. Maybe both.

He couldn't help but grin at the question. "Anything with cars in 'em, really. A specific focus, you know- street racing, car chases. Action stuff I guess, yeah. Shit that gets your blood pumping. It's the next best thing to being behind the wheel, myself."
burnyoudown: (047)

No worries at all! :3

[personal profile] burnyoudown 2024-03-16 01:01 am (UTC)(link)
"Yeah. I do the best 4th of July bashes. Had a tank one year." It was easier to talk about previous years than the most recent one, the one he'd left behind just a few hours ago.

He made a sympathetic noise. "I don't usually have that problem with dreams, but I know what you mean. Some shit's a little...fuzzy for me. Like, certain specifics." But everything else was good. Well, not good, but solid in his memory. "Maybe it's like- fuck, you know when jet lag throws you off, except we came through some kind of portal thing, right? Maybe it fucks with our brains." He did not, after all, know jack shit about the effects of mysterious magical portals on the average brain--or body.

Kavinsky thought he was already the villain in someone else's story. A lot of people's, probably. He told himself he didn't care, that what other people thought about him didn't change who he actually was, but...he did care. He couldn't not. It was just easier to pretend, brush it off and embrace being a monster. "Yeah. And just-" He glanced away, for a moment, a heartbeat, before scrapping the rest of that sentence, and instead- "I don't want to be caught up in anyone's crusade or whatever. I'll make my own decisions."

Refocusing his attention on Ash, he smirked, slouching a little more in his chair. "Truth. Hit me with it."
burnyoudown: (008)

[personal profile] burnyoudown 2024-03-16 02:22 am (UTC)(link)
"Bullshit. I've heard a lot of people say they're no one, like just because they don't think they're important or something means they don't matter." It might have come out a bit more impassioned than he'd originally intended, but he wasn't going to apologize for it.

He did, however, go quiet for a moment, patiently keeping pace beside her, doing his best not to reach over to help steady her. He was pretty sure that every teenage boy he'd ever pulled under his wing and befriended had thought they were no one at some point. It killed him to see them be hard on themselves, to think they weren't special because no one had ever made them feel special.

"Everybody's unique," he continued, a bit softer, a little gentler. "I almost lost my best friend, once. The thought of being without him was like someone ripped my lungs out, 'cause there'd never be anyone else like him." And he would have torn the world apart for Prokopenko. Had, in a way--he'd flipped off death, at the very least, told it not today, fuck you. "I just mean...you don't have to be a rockstar to be important. People care about you, right?"
diana_abel: (Skeptical)

[personal profile] diana_abel 2024-03-16 02:56 am (UTC)(link)
The weird part? This was exactly the kind of pep talk Diana was usually the one giving. Not as a platitude, but because it was something she generally believed. Every single person possessed a special quality, a special something. Everyone was important, as long as they opened themselves up to the love of others.

And, oh God, did Diana believe in love. Unironically and whole-heartedly.

Was this what she sounded like to other people? Kavinsky was being genuine, she had no doubt.

In another lifetime, they would have obviously been BFFs.

She shook her head, just slightly. "Yeah. People care about me." The problem was, some of them cared about her too much. Enough to kidnap her, hold her prisoner, and dangle her over the floor like Andrew Lloyd Webber's damn chandelier. Diana took a deep breath, unable to look at Kavinsky for the moment. "Although I guess that part doesn't matter so much here. I mean...Hell and all."
hopethatremains: (064 - Cutscene)

[personal profile] hopethatremains 2024-03-16 05:03 am (UTC)(link)
Sophia was still mostly milling about the hotel lobby due to the novelty of human spaces. She didn't get to really explore Tokyo with her sister twisting reality into a new horrifying shape stealing the wills of humans.

And she was still dressed as herself, waist-lenght parka over bike shorts. Not the most reasonable of outfits for anyone. Sophia walked over, a little too curious at all the things going on but especial Cordelia's... interesting, attire, "Your clothes do not appear appropriate to the local customs."

On top of Sophia's clothes, the fact that she's well under five feet tall and, has red hearts floating behind her head like overly large pigtails, and her eyes aren't even remotely human. It's likely she's something otherworldly and strange, and should not be giving fashion commentary.
burnyoudown: (016)

[personal profile] burnyoudown 2024-03-16 06:24 am (UTC)(link)
"That's good. It's important."

He could count on one hand the number of people who cared about him, and he wouldn't even need all five fingers. He knew that was still something, that he still had people who cared, and he wouldn't trade any of them for the world, but-... He still wondered if he was unlovable. It wasn't just about romance, even though no one seemed to want him, and the boy of his dreams had told him, what was still just a few hours ago, that he wasn't good enough- he knew he hadn't been a good son, either, but he also knew that was because his parents didn't give a shit, and not the other way around.

"So long as you matter to someone, you're never 'no one'." And he knew too well what it was like to feel unimportant, a speck in space.

He snorted a bit, and it was both amused and a little surprised; he'd never considered that this could be hell. Not at any point. Not because he didn't think he'd probably end up there, but because he was pretty sure he was alive. "Damn, that's harsh. I wouldn't say Ohio's as good as Jersey, so far, but it's not that bad." He knew she was most likely being literal, but he was stubborn--and trying to lighten the mood.

After a pause, he cocked his head to the side. "Would I still be aware of my heart beating if this was actually hell?"
speechy: (pic#16180008)

spike — buffy the vampire slayer/angel

[personal profile] speechy 2024-03-16 12:48 pm (UTC)(link)
A CHOICE TO MAKE (GOODISH)

In classic 'The-Powers-That-Be-Have-It-Out-For-Me' fashion, Spike plummeted through the big, blue shiny fold in reality and came nose first with a dirty cavern floor, none too quietly. If asked, he'd remark that the screaming that happened simultaneously was from the other bloke nearby — yeah, just missed him. Funny, that. All of that aside, he found he was less concerned with his ego and more worried about the eerily familiar whispering that currently plagued him like an incessant buzzing. (Been there, done that. Didn't much care for the voices in the head shenanigans, thank you.)

"What's all this, then?" He sniffed disinterestedly.

(Listen, when you've been to one wacky dimension, you've practically been to them all.)

Sooner rather than later, it became apparent that no answer was coming by standing still. Regardless of what he was leaving behind, the whats-it with the magic was gone, like the rift had never been there. As much as Spike would prefer to ignore the whole ordeal and stride down a third unforeseen path to make his own way in the world, he followed the girl. Wasn't there always a girl?

Seconds turned to minutes to hours and what remained true in all dimensions seemed to be the need to prattle on needlessly about something or other, explaining every minor detail. He wasn't turned yesterday. At the first opportunity, Spike slipped from the gathered cluster of newcomers — some which looked ill-equipped, others who might have stood a chance — to get away from all the noise.

( I. ) The first thing he was interested in getting over with was feeding without an audience. Slayer Central had never been notorious for being open-minded and he expected that Cleveland was no different, even with a reputation that might have proceeded him (if anyone here actually survived the cratering of Sunnydale). It was as good an excuse as any, really, to escape the rah-rah-good-guy rallying. Anyone that popped into the kitchen was going to be faced with a bag of blood getting poured into a coffee mug and set in the microwave and the biggest look of indifference in all of history.

"I'm a growing boy." He explained dryly, followed by nothing else.

( II. ) Otherwise, he could be found in common rooms, particularly if there are televisions available. Or even in the gym, should someone want a sparring partner. Almost as though he was determined to be everywhere and nowhere at the same time. Certainly not because he was avoiding a run-in with someone(s) he might already know.

RESSERUCTION CEMETERY

"Well, don't look at me, mate. I'm on my legally provided rest break."

What should you not say to a newly risen vampire? That, probably. What with the rage and the bloodlust, all at an undeniable peak after having clawed free from their own grave. Spike didn't seem to care much about that, considering . . . well, everything. He looked perfectly at ease, perched atop a headstone, idly examining his new cellphone and playing none other than Candy Crush Saga. The future was brilliant.

Although, should someone scream ( and he was at a good pausing point ), he could be inclined to intervene.


A PARTY TO CRASH - THE ODEON

Zero out of ten — not that there were critics about, shaking him down for his two cents about the club. Or the town. ...Or the cult.

You know, a man dies and it's supposed to mean something! Not just a brief reprieve. The First they took out in the crater should have been The Last. Not even a smile springs forth at what he did there and he usually was quite fond of his own wordplay. It was a bone he had to pick for months, trapped in Wolfram & Hart, unable to leave and here it was again, unburied at his feet. He thought he was over it. Made his peace, threw in with a new team, and yet. Some things weren't easily compartmentalized.

Misery, party of one, had a little less stalk to his step than the ire he currently felt when he stepped outside into the cool night.

He pulled out a cigarette from the pack in his jacket, put it between his lips, only to discover a new nail in his boot. His lighter was missing. Naturally.

Forced into small talk, the true horror of the multiverse.

"Hey," he called to the person nearest without much of a real lookover. "Got a light?"
( OOC: rolling with post-series on both buffy and angel here, for anyone curious! haven't decided if i want to play with the comic!verse or not yet, but will probably vague it up with canonmates until i decide? come at me! wildcard is also an option if none of these starters intrigue anyone. i can match prose or brackets. )
Edited (oops) 2024-03-16 12:52 (UTC)
speechy: (pic#16180003)

the odeon

[personal profile] speechy 2024-03-16 01:37 pm (UTC)(link)
"Me too. Bit overrated in there." Automatic, thoughtless, and out of his mouth before any of his senses connect. What else would a stranger be apologizing about? "You've got the way of it. I'd stay out here if I were you."

It doesn't cross his mind immediately that her scent is familiar to him because it's one he never thought he'd be in the presence of again. He also hasn't paid her much mind, so there's that. He's talking to her, but Spike has a way of continuing without the participation of anyone around him when he so wishes, probably from years of hanging around people sharing absolutely nothing but mutual dislike.

But, then, he looks and . . .

He's at a surprising loss for words. Not much left in the world capable of shocking him and stranger things have happened, haven't they? Why not her? Why not here? Spike swallows, the beginning of recognition creeping up on him. Bridging the gaps between life and death is never without its struggles, no matter the circumstances. Hard to say exactly, if that's the case here. Tara was never the most spirited of the group, but he likes to think he knows the difference between socially anxious and shellshocked.

"You look cold," he finally deduces.

Spike doesn't think she'll snub the offer, though she has every right to. He steps away from the door, away from the light, and pulls off his coat.

"Here. Take it." He holds it out to drape on her shoulders, if she'll allow it. Otherwise, it might hang haphazardly for a few seconds until he takes the hint. They might not have been close, but they always had some sort of understanding of each other.
diana_abel: (Uncomfortable)

[personal profile] diana_abel 2024-03-16 04:54 pm (UTC)(link)
Jersey was a million times better than Ohio. And it was friggin' Jersey. But that was beside the point and Diana wasn't going to get into it.

Anyway, New York was superior. And California was the best.

She shook her head. "I don't really know," she admitted. "I've never actually been to Hell before. I mean, I guess I always expected to end up here but...it's not like I know the rules."

Of course, she'd read every holy text imaginable, describing the afterlife of the wicked. The only thing they all truly agreed about was torment and torture, but the form in which it took varied so considerably, there was no good way to establish the rules. She was sure there was more coming than just Ohio. She just had no predictions. Other than pain.
diana_abel: (Flirty)

[personal profile] diana_abel 2024-03-16 09:54 pm (UTC)(link)
Diana was sitting on the stairs leading up to the stage, tuning the guitar she'd borrowed from the stage manager. Her whole body was covered in vampire bites, but the one that was giving her the most consternation, at the moment, was the one on the heel of her right palm. Try as she ight, she couldn't stop brushing it, every time she played. Logic would dictate that she just stop playing until she healed.

But Diana Abel wasn't exactly known for her deep logic.

Look, she needed the music. It was one of the few things that made her forget the fact that a sadist could play connect-the-dots with her skin, right now.

She glanced up at the question, sweeping the choppy fringe of her brown hair out of her eyes as she took in...wow, that sure was a Billy Idol look-alike. "Sorry," she said, offering a faint smile. "Afraid I left my purse back in another universe."
speechy: (pic#16180000)

[personal profile] speechy 2024-03-16 10:40 pm (UTC)(link)
"Bugger."

His rotten luck was at it again. Seemed all he was meant to do was strike out lately. He made short work of plucking the cigarette from between his lips and stowing it back in the pack for later. His lighter was either in his room or someone had pilfered it, which was a route he didn't entirely want to entertain (lest it lead to one of those conversations better left avoided).

"You'd think they would give us a chance to scrounge a bag together first. Common courtesy goes about as far as penniless pockets in this day and age." It was downright rude. He had been evil once, and even he had rules.

Rant out of his system, he took a beat to look the young woman over. A musician. Interesting enough, made more so by the state of her – what he can see of her skin, anyway.

"Are you alright?"
diana_abel: (Sly)

[personal profile] diana_abel 2024-03-16 10:47 pm (UTC)(link)
His accent reminded her of home. Weirdly enough, California, not Notting Hill. Although both Diana and Selene had traded in their old accents, Artemis somehow managed to hold onto hers. He sounded like their little sister. Just throw in a few nonsense lines from Jabberwocky by Lewis Carroll and it would be like being back in the mansion.

Maybe. Or maybe Diana was just grasping at some very desperate straws.

God, she missed her family. So much more now than ever. Decades had separated them. Compared to that, six months was almost nothing. But they had been the hardest six months in Diana's whole life.

And it had been a long life, so far.

Nevertheless, she smiled through the pain. "Not the worst kidnapping I've ever experienced," she said.
visionsinprada: (collar)

[personal profile] visionsinprada 2024-03-17 12:14 am (UTC)(link)
Cordelia wasn't taken aback by the small girl's attire. A lot of club goers in California would rock a North Face puffer in the dead of summer. Whether they were hiding supernatural attributes usually remained to be seen. None of the fashion in the circles Cordy wanted to be in made sense.

Still, she didn't need to have visions to see just how she, herself, didn't look as though she belonged.

"Well if the weird glowing hole the other sparkly Oompa Loompa took me through had ended up in Vegas or Bollywood, I might not be doing so badly."

Cordelia did, indeed, believe Bollywood was the city that held the heart of India's entertainment.
visionsinprada: (pick on cordy)

[personal profile] visionsinprada 2024-03-17 12:26 am (UTC)(link)
Cordelia had the chance to thrift some decent, current fashion on her little weekly stipend. Given she'd arrived from Lorne's home dimension to Cleveland - she hadn't been appropriately dressed. Some clever spending, and haggling, and Cordy had herself a nice black purse, black wedge slides, and surprisingly flattering jeans with a silk halter top. She looked as authentically Cordelia Chase as she ever did.

That didn't help her unusually shaken confidence. Cordelia didn't expect slipping through time and space to become a theme for her. She was alone in this world without allies and the highly likely chance she'd be stricken by a vision in due time.

So, instead, she was going to have some shitty drinks that made her long for Caritas while feeling unexpected nostalgia for The Bronze. As she was tossing back her third cheap beer, that feeling of sentiment started to become too real. She swore the silhouette of a blonde guy was familiar. When he spoke as he turned around to ask for a light, that British accent made Cordelia's blood run cold.

Angel told them about the day that time took back. All that horror that Spike was hoping to have wrought. Her despondent expression had shifted to one of vicious retort. Better to be aggressive like you're supposed to do with bears, right?

"Spike..."

If the ice in Cordelia's voice could be quantified, the glaciers would no longer be melting.
speechy: (pic#16147811)

[personal profile] speechy 2024-03-17 12:37 am (UTC)(link)
One scarred eyebrow ticks up at that, but if he intended to challenge a total stranger on their pain tolerance he made no other visible show of the urge. What could he make of it? He didn't know the girl, one way or the other. Spike was out of fingers to count off the number of women society would have underestimated based on looks or size alone.

"Right." The skepticism remained. As much as he could stick his nose where it didn't belong, the whole lot of them had been sucked in here for the same purpose. One would hope they knew what they were doing, but years of dealing with so-called destiny hadn't convinced him. "Could be worse. Could be one of hundreds of hell dimensions."

Far be it to him to be worried about whether she was a regular or not, though the bites told him enough.

"Are you the entertainment tonight?"
diana_abel: (Amused)

[personal profile] diana_abel 2024-03-17 12:41 am (UTC)(link)
Diana laughed softly. It wasn't exactly funny, but her first assumption upon finding herself in Cleveland was that she was actually in Hell. It had taken some doing to convince her otherwise. And she was still fighting off some nagging doubts. Mostly because it was hard to believe that she was still alive. After everything Solomon had put her through...

Still. As much as she hated the Midwest, Cleveland really was better than Hell.

And Diana did love being alive.

"If I can sweettalk the management into giving me another set," she said, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. "I take requests. Are you more of a 'Dancing With Myself' fan or do you lean toward 'White Wedding?'"
ineverygeneration: (Default)

the odeon

[personal profile] ineverygeneration 2024-03-17 02:16 am (UTC)(link)
Buffy's gut twisted with a familiar discomfort, a sensation that always preceded trouble. Was there a way to evacuate the innocents from this place, or did her intuition dictate otherwise? Something was seriously amiss since her arrival. Gone was her mantle of the indomitable leader; now, a younger generation of Slayers stood in her place.

A voice, achingly familiar, pierced through her thoughts, causing her to spin around, her ponytail whipping behind her. A tentative smile graced her lips as her eyes met those of a certain peroxide blonde vampire.

"The Powers just had to drag you into this mess, didn't they?" Buffy's smirk held a hint of amusement. "How's it hanging, Spike?"
burnyoudown: (045)

The Odeon

[personal profile] burnyoudown 2024-03-17 02:21 am (UTC)(link)
Kavinsky wanted to launch himself into the sun--so it was a good thing the sun wasn't visible right now. Drinking for a little while had been one thing, something, but he couldn't decide if he was simmering with anger or teetering on the brink of apathy and misery. Both, he thought- they were just taking turns, one after the other. Fuck, but he wanted to burn something, just to hear the crackle of the flames, feel the heat of them on his skin.

Instead, abruptly, that line of thinking was interrupted, and he looked over towards the guy who'd spoken. The pause that occurred before K dug into his pocket for his lighter had more to do with needing to remember which pocket it was in, and much less to do with any hesitation about being helpful.

"Yeah, man; here you go," he said, offering out the lighter. It was gold, the sort of heavy that said it wasn't a cheap thing that'd been picked up at the check-out lane of a grocery store, with a dragon and flames etched into the metal.

"Some fucking shit that's been going on, huh?" He was never sure, at first, who was an utterly clueless, regular resident of the city, and who'd been dragged in from elsewhere, but he wasn't shy about poking around to figure it out.
burnyoudown: (011)

[personal profile] burnyoudown 2024-03-17 02:32 am (UTC)(link)
"I'd be surprised if you've been to hell." Because she seemed nice and he couldn't imagine, off the top of his head, what sort of things she could have possibly done to think she'd end up in hell. But also, there was the part where she was very much alive--as far as he could tell, at least.

"Same, though. I mean...I don't believe in heaven or hell, been sort of just banking on some eternal peace, but-" He shrugged a shoulder, mindful of not moving his arm too much, so he wouldn't risk knocking her off balance. But, if there was a hell, he figured he'd end up there.

"I know what they say about not judging a book by its cover, but...you don't seem like someone who should end up in hell." She'd been nothing but kind, which was honestly a large part of why he'd put away his barbs and venom and sarcasm.
ineverygeneration: (Default)

[personal profile] ineverygeneration 2024-03-17 02:46 am (UTC)(link)
Buffy, with a skeptical quirk of her eyebrow and a gesture mimicking fangs with her fingers, directed her gaze towards Diana. "A really... 'angry cat'?" Her tone was laced with a mixture of concern and amusement, though her Slayer senses were tingling like a thousand alarm bells in a cacophony of danger. Diana was a vampire — a certainty as solid as the stake in her back pocket. And she was fairly confident that encounters with vampires typically ended with either a frantic sprint or a bloody brawl. This girl, however, seemed more like an ally than a foe.

"It's okay," Buffy said, her voice a soft murmur as she leaned in closer, her eyes betraying nothing but kindness. "I just want to get you somewhere comfortable and semi-private where you can sit and heal." Her smile was warm, genuine, reaching all the way to her eyes, the color of a tranquil sea on a calm day. Scanning the club for a suitable spot, she spotted the introvert's haven — the couch tucked away from prying eyes.

"Come on," Buffy encouraged, looping an arm around Diana's waist for support as she guided her towards the plush sofa. It looked like the kind of furniture that could cradle a person in its embrace, offering solace in its softness. Partially concealed by a winding staircase, it provided just enough seclusion for a speedy recovery. "What do you think? Two thumbs up?" she asked, a playful glint dancing in her eyes, her lips curling into a reassuring grin.
diana_abel: (Uncomfortable)

[personal profile] diana_abel 2024-03-17 02:51 am (UTC)(link)
The smile she gave him didn't quite reach her eyes. It was sweet, but he was absolutely right. Books. Covers. Yadda, yadda, yadda. She had sins she needed to answer for. One in particular, despite the fact that people had spent centuries telling her that it wasn't her fault that man was dead.

God. It was totally her fault. And no platitudes in the universe would change that fact. Nothing short of a time-traveling DeLorean would change that fact.

"You're sweet, but you don't really know me." A pause. "Okay, that came out sounding way sketchy." She shook her head. "I mean, I'm not gonna hurt you or anything. Promise. I mean, you're being nice and everything and helping me and I just..." Wow. Words were usually her thing. "Actually, I'm not sure you belong in Hell."
diana_abel: (Dominating)

[personal profile] diana_abel 2024-03-17 02:58 am (UTC)(link)
There was...a lot to unpack in everything Buffy said and did within approximately thirty seconds of meeting Diana. Never exactly known for being much of a strategist--in fact, everyone told Diana that she was stupid and she generally believed them--her mind whirled with possibilities.

The mimicry of fangs was pretty unmistakable. This was a girl who was in the know. Possibly? Alive, judging from the pulse that Diana could feel in her skin. But familiar with the world of vampires and other supernatural weirdos. A ghoul, maybe? Diana took a quick peak at the girl's aura, as she allowed Buffy to lead her over to the sofa.

Nope. Definitely not a ghoul. Seemed pretty damn human, with only the slightest hint of a sparkle in the colors that swirled around her.

Okay, things were getting weird. Groovy. Time to..improvise?

Diana sat down carefully, not leaning against the back of the sofa, because her own back was also a patchwork of bitemarks. Still, it was good to be off of her feet, and she breathed a small, relieved sigh. "There were...a lot of angry cats," she said. Because she sure as hell wasn't going to be the first to use the v-word. Just in case she was totally wrong.

Wouldn't exactly be the first time.

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