bocadelmods: (Default)
Boca Admins ([personal profile] bocadelmods) wrote in [community profile] theodeon2024-03-08 08:34 pm
Entry tags:

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.

 

theconsequences: (๐ŸŒŒ sizzling like a snare)

edited because i completely misread your tag - apologies!!!

[personal profile] theconsequences 2024-03-17 04:28 am (UTC)(link)
Mack pokes her head over the gravestone, eyeing the guy in front of her. Sure, coyotes are not exactly known for their violent prowess against humans, but this guy still has a solid set of huevos to look a wild animal in the eye and dead-ass greet it like a random person at a coffee shop.

Her Spanish is rusty, but she knows enough to get the gist and isn't sure how to answer. First, she's just a small girl wandering around a graveyard in the dead of night, so she's not sure she wants to own up to being alone. Second... she can't talk in animal form, so there's no way to answer the question directly anyway. Third, well, sheโ€™s an animal and most people arenโ€™t exactly expecting an animal to understand them, muchless answer back.

Which, of course, means Mack has to do something to fuck with him.

She stares at him, trying to make eye contact so he knows she understands, and then she nods her head.
Edited 2024-03-17 23:25 (UTC)
burnyoudown: (013)

[personal profile] burnyoudown 2024-03-17 06:35 am (UTC)(link)
He laughed, but it was more startled than anything, and much more bitter than happy. He didn't think that sounded sketchy at all, actually; he'd heard so many worse things, some of which had actually made him pause for a moment. But not this.

"You don't know me, either. No one's ever called me sweet. Pretty sure no one's ever even thought it." His smile was hollow. "People think I'm a monster." And he hadn't really done anything to change their minds, but there was a certain safety in appearing dangerous. If people were genuinely afraid of the consequences, the chances they would fuck with him were much lower.

"Everyone's got skeletons in their closet." He was trying not to be a hypocrite. He was trying not to say that maybe, the fact she was sure she'd go to hell meant she felt guilty about whatever'd happened, and bad people didn't usually feel guilty about doing awful things. He didn't say it, because he knew then he'd have to apply that logic to himself, and it was so fucking hard to even begin thinking of himself as a good person.

"People are allowed to change though, you know? You could've fucked up in the past, but it doesn't mean you're still the same person who did that thing." He didn't know what sort of things she felt responsible for, but he would've said this either way. People could change and learn and grow.
diana_abel: (Skeptical)

[personal profile] diana_abel 2024-03-17 03:35 pm (UTC)(link)
Her smile got a little deeper, more relaxed. If nothing else, Diana believed in the ability of people to change for the better. Whether or not a Cainite qualified as 'people' varied, depending on her mood. But even she wasn't self-loathing enough to ignore the fact that she didn't have her old accent and that, in general, she didn't run around draining people dry for no good reason.

She didn't follow orders. Well, better to say she was more discerning when it came to orders.

Nevertheless, there was still one overwhelming question. "Okay, if you and I both think we deserve to be in Hell...how do we know this isn't it? I mean, we can't actually be in Ohio, right? Do you remember getting here? Because I definitely don't."

Logic. Artemis would be proud of her.
speechy: (pic#16180006)

[personal profile] speechy 2024-03-17 07:52 pm (UTC)(link)
People so often looked upon Spike with distaste that discerning whether that meant they were having a bad day they wanted to take out on him or because they thought he was still running around killing people was a guessing game at best. It took him a minute to place her, considering the last time he'd seen her she'd looked different and she was supposed to be dead. Bit of that was going around, apparently.

He sighed, barely a dignified response.

"Oh. You again."

He was wary of completely turning his back on Cordelia, but he did turn some, far enough to swipe a matchbook off the bar top and away from some poor bastard who was too engrossed in slurred conversation to notice he was being robbed โ€” by the girl using him for free drinks. He didn't seem like he'd miss the matches. Normally, he would slip outside into a dark alley to enjoy a smoke in solitude but he was equally as fine with ruining her outfit with the thick smell of cigarette smoke.

"Always pegged you for more of a cosmopolitan girl."
speechy: (pic#16180009)

[personal profile] speechy 2024-03-17 08:01 pm (UTC)(link)
Debatable. Hell had its upsides. Hell on earth, that was. Who could say about the reality of the thing? Cleveland had yet to boast of any such perks.

The scoff was rupturing out of him before he could stop, along with the eye roll.

"You share a similar hairstyle with a guy and it's all anyone can talk about." Billy Idol, the wanker. He could go on a tirade (he might still). One pathetic famous singer stole his whole staple and here he was, explaining it, decades later. "More of a Road to Ruin enjoyer, if you think you'd do a hit justice. Can't say I'd hang around for much else. But hey, kudos for wearing the bozo down for the spotlight."
speechy: (pic#16180005)

[personal profile] speechy 2024-03-17 08:15 pm (UTC)(link)
Right, yeah. Okay. There it went, all his meticulous effort slashed through in an instant. Not that life-altering, he supposed. Buffy spent how many years taking the wind out of his sails? Not that she was, at the moment, not really. If he focused on the melodramatic of it all and on hating the fates or what-have-you, then he didn't have to tune in to what was happening internally. The fact of the matter was that Spike spent so much time toiling over how he would get to Buffy that once he had nothing holding him back, he turned over a different stone.

Hence the avoiding her since arrival. Oh, he'd asked. He'd heard whispered talk. Thought maybe once he'd even smelled her in the halls โ€” her perfume, yeah, but her. Blood, essence, didn't much matter.

( And he had rehearsed, you know? Imagined the impossible, wrote it down once in an actual letter that he burned in a metal trash can because how could anyone be so cowardly as to not say the words to her face? )

So here they were, destinies intertwined, and Buffy was asking him . . . how it was hanging???

"Please. They couldn't pull it together without me," he tried lousily. He knew full well that it sounded like he was choking on gravel. "Wouldn't expect anything less than to be jerked around by destiny."

He pocketed the cigarette with as much grace as a blind man and forced himself to ask, "And you, pet?"
speechy: (pic#16180000)

[personal profile] speechy 2024-03-17 08:27 pm (UTC)(link)
It was a good, strong lighter, intricately designed with more care than he had put into the cool metal of his own missing belonging. He took an extra moment to look it over, turned it in his hand after he lit up. Spike took a slow drag, inhaling like an old round of going through the motions just to do something that wasn't walking aimlessly for hours at a time or looking for a fight he wasn't prepared to tackle. When he was through, he held the lighter back out to return it to its rightful owner.

Spike, never one to appreciate the veils between known and unknown, shrugged and exhaled a wisp of smoke to his left, out of the young man's range as best he could.

"If you mean the live entertainment, you couldn't be more spot on. I've heard trash make a better series of sounds." It seemed that the future leaned more into synth and pop than even the early 2000s had.

"But," a pause for dramatic effect, another drag, "if you're referencing the nasties and all the bells and whistles surrounding getting us here to dabble with them, I don't know. I've stepped in worse." Chances were that the man would either give him a good conversation or he would look at Spike like he was insane; either way, he had gotten what he wanted.
diana_abel: (Cheerful)

[personal profile] diana_abel 2024-03-17 09:34 pm (UTC)(link)
"Would I do the Ramones justice?" she said, both of her eyebrows quirking a little in amusement. "You'd have to pick something harder than Road to Ruin or anything on that album. It was basically written for me. The whole thing is made up of heavy metal-influenced guitar solos and 1960s-style ballads." She patted the base of her borrowed guitar. Diana was pretty sure she should have been born in the 1960s. Music so seldom lived up to that era.

The human drive for change, as well.

Not that Diana had given up on either front. Quite the opposite. She just wanted both music and humanity to strive for what they had been. And surpass it.

Someday...

Meanwhile, there...Cleveland. "I'm pretty sure I could work Road to Ruin into my set. What else you got for me?"
Edited 2024-03-17 21:34 (UTC)
burnyoudown: (012)

[personal profile] burnyoudown 2024-03-17 10:27 pm (UTC)(link)
Tension coiled in his shoulders for a few long seconds, only easing away when he'd processed what she'd asked, and that it wasn't what he'd been expecting. Except, that was still difficult to answer, because there were things he couldn't just admit to, things he couldn't talk about freely. The last time he'd put his trust into someone...well, that hadn't been going too well for him.

He scrunched his face for a moment, mostly in thought about how he'd ended up here, but also because he was trying to figure out how much was safe to say. He wouldn't put it entirely outside the realm of possibility for him to have been whisked off to Ohio while being alive and physically fine.

"There was a portal or some shit like that, I think. Right before the cave." It'd happened fast though, and he still felt like he had some sort of emotional whiplash while trying to remember what, exactly, had happened. Had he or hadn't he woken up with the dragon? Had he left the dream before finding himself in the cave? It sort of blurred together. "I've seen some weird fucking shit though, so I can't really rule out 'magical portals' as a legit thing."
ineverygeneration: (car smirk)

[personal profile] ineverygeneration 2024-03-17 11:00 pm (UTC)(link)
Buffy Summers, with a gaze that could cut through steel, found her features veiling momentarily, masking the turmoil within. The arrival in this unfamiliar realm had thrust upon them a pivotal crossroads: the perennial struggle between good and evil, a dichotomy she knew all too well. Despite the certainty of Spike's ensoulment, the capricious nature of interdimensional portals hung like a specter over her thoughts. She had borne witness to the inexplicable, from resurrections to encounters with strangers from distant epochs. Thus, the notion that Spike could have been plucked from any point in time loomed ominously, casting a shadow over their precarious situation.

A sense of caution pervaded Buffy's movements as she deftly reached behind her, her hand instinctively seeking solace in the familiar weight of her stake. Though her lips curved upward in a semblance of levity, the facade was as thin as parchment, barely concealing the weight of her apprehensions. "Same old Buffy," she quipped, the words laced with a brittle sarcasm that belied the gravity of their circumstances. "Just trying to keep it together while wondering if everyone back in Sunnydale is holding up without us..."

A fleeting moment of vulnerability flickered across her countenance, a crack in the armor she had meticulously forged through years of unyielding battles. How could she not succumb to the onslaught of doubt and fatigue? The echoes of her past struggles still reverberated within her, and now, thrust into yet another trial in an unfamiliar realm, the weight of her responsibilities bore down upon her with renewed vigor. When her gaze met Spike's once more, it was a reflection of her resilience tinged with weariness.

"Spike," she began, her voice a steady anchor amidst the tempest of uncertainty. "What is the last thing you remember?โ€
Edited 2024-03-17 23:01 (UTC)
diana_abel: (Sly)

[personal profile] diana_abel 2024-03-17 11:30 pm (UTC)(link)
She wasn't really sure she remembered the portal. Except for the sensation of falling which, really, she'd just kind of assumed as a death throe. Their similar arrival, though, didn't necessarily prove anything, except that Hell or Ohio was consistent in whatever it was doing.

The fact that he wasn't immediately ready to dismiss the supernatural was more what piqued her attention, anyway.

There were lots of people out there who were 'in the know' about the world of darkness around them. The trick was sometimes sorting out the ones who did from the civilians--to use a military term that Diana hated and kind of hated herself for using. Her new friend was continuing to elevate himself to new levels of curiouser and curiouser.

"What kind of shit?" she asked. "If you...don't mind me asking."
ineverygeneration: (smile)

[personal profile] ineverygeneration 2024-03-18 01:04 am (UTC)(link)
Buffy's smile unfurled like a beacon of understanding and empathy, a testament to the myriad trials she had weathered throughout her years as the Slayer. It was a smile that spoke volumes, conveying a silent reassurance that echoed her unwavering resolve in the face of the supernatural. As she extended her hand towards Maddie's shoulder, a fleeting uncertainty flickered in her eyes, a reflexive acknowledgment of the ethereal nature of their encounter. Would her touch find purchase on the spectral form of the high school ghost, or would it pass through her incorporeal presence like smoke through a sieve? With a hesitant pause, Buffy withdrew her hand, opting for caution over presumption.

"Witches, huh?" Buffy's voice, laced with warmth and camaraderie, carried an air of casual familiarity born of countless encounters with the occult. "They're usually pretty chill about being called witches. Some even embrace it, practicing Wicca and all that jazz. It's all about who you're talking to, but don't sweat it. Asking never hurt anybody." Her grin widened, imbued with a sense of joviality that bordered on irreverence. Look at her, doling out advice on making friends with witches like she was giving a tutorial on Sesame Street. Next lesson: how to navigate the complexities of befriending werewolves!

With a playful glint in her eye, Buffy leaned in conspiratorially, her mind already concocting plans to alleviate Maddie's dilemma. "And hey, if the door's giving you grief, why not spice things up a bit? A groovy beaded curtain could totally give your haunt some flair. Throw in a few strategically placed partitions for privacy, and voilร ! No more prying eyes, just a stylish makeover for your spectral abode." Her suggestion brimmed with enthusiasm, a testament to her knack for turning mundane problems into exhilarating projects. After all, in a town where the supernatural lurked around every corner, what better way to pass the time than with a little DIY ghost renovation?
ineverygeneration: (pinch nose)

[personal profile] ineverygeneration 2024-03-18 01:30 am (UTC)(link)
Buffy's expression darkened as she gave a slow, ominous shake of her head. It wasn't just a flutter of nerves dancing in the pit of her stomach; it was a familiar dread, a chilling sensation reminiscent of the darkest days back home when the malevolent force of The First had waged its psychological warfare upon them. The question lingered like a shadow in her mind: how far was this new threat willing to go? Would it content itself with mere mischief, or did it hunger for something far more sinister? Though she would never openly admit it, a tremor of apprehension coursed through her veins.

"The First," Buffy murmured, her voice tinged with resignation as she delivered the grim diagnosis. "It's responsible for these wiggins, sorry to say, and who knows what else it's got up its sleeve." Her words hung heavy in the air, a somber acknowledgment of the insidious power wielded by their unseen adversary. "That means we're dealing with more than just your run-of-the-mill bloodsuckers. Anything could come slithering through that pretty blue portal."

Her gaze flickered towards the alleyway entrance, where a motley crew of figures clad in antiquated attire slinked into view like predators stalking their prey. Buffy's jaw tensed as she sized them up, a flicker of recognition igniting within her. Without a word, she met Faith's gaze and offered a subtle nod, a silent agreement to pursue the looming threat before it could escalate into a full-blown catastrophe. It felt like a risky gambit, a potential diversion orchestrated by unseen hands, but in the dimly lit confines of the club, they were the only vampires in sight.

With a sense of grim determination, Buffy led the way, her senses attuned to the faintest whisper of danger lurking in the shadows. Whatever lay ahead, she was ready to face it head-on, armed with nothing but her wits and the unwavering resolve of a Slayer on the hunt.
ineverygeneration: (pinch nose)

[personal profile] ineverygeneration 2024-03-18 01:49 am (UTC)(link)
Buffy's expression shifted into one of contemplation, her eyebrows arching in a moment of deep thought, while her lips formed a subtle pout. "I've heard tales," she began, her voice tinged with a hint of skepticism, "that it shakes every now and then, and if you're lucky, you might catch it rolling. But personally, I've never had the pleasure of witnessing any rocking action." A smirk danced across her features, that trademark Buffy brand of mischief that could easily be mistaken for either playful teasing or something altogether more flirtatious. "Maybe we should put that theory to the test sometime."

With a casual grace, Buffy eased herself backward into the embrace of the comfiest chair within reach, her movements fluid and relaxed. "Anyway..." she continued, her tone light and conversational, "how's the people-watching going? Spot anyone intriguing yet?" Her gaze swept across the room, taking in the eclectic mix of faces and characters that populated the space around them. In a town like this, where the supernatural lurked just beneath the surface, you never knew when an ordinary face might conceal an extraordinary secret.
burnyoudown: (006)

[personal profile] burnyoudown 2024-03-18 02:16 am (UTC)(link)
Under different circumstances, Kavinsky might have preened a little upon noticing the attention paid to the lighter. He couldn't exactly come out and say he'd made that, that he'd lovingly designed every bit of it, but he could still be proud when someone took a moment to appreciate it. But he wasn't feeling very proud of anything, right now.

He took his lighter back with a nod in place of verbal thanks, sliding it into his pocket. The first answer was so unexpected that he couldn't help but laugh a bit. "Harsh." But he grinned anyway. "I never expected anyone here to play any kind of music I actually love, anyway--but at least it's not all country."

Considering the other part, Kavinsky made a thoughtful noise. "Just feels kind of..." Not rude, though also yeah, rude. "Presumptuous to pull in people from where-the-fuck-ever to get us to do shit." That wasn't necessarily his real concern, either, though. "'Course, that implies someone has control over it. Which I've sort of been figuring someone does." Unless portals or whatever just opened themselves whenever they felt like it. "You don't sound very surprised about all this, though."
speechy: (pic#16179982)

[personal profile] speechy 2024-03-18 02:56 am (UTC)(link)
Same dance, new place.

He had become intimately versed in the warrior's mask, plastered on before the girl and recognized both were the same person. An armor to protect all her human flaws. Spike didn't struggle with parsing through the thin differences. Sometimes, she took some getting through to is all. She was stubborn โ€” that was a strength, not a weakness. It weeded out all the people that didn't have it in their bones to persevere against all odds. Speaking plainly, that was most humans because of their fragile sensibilities. Not all but most.

'Trying to keep it together while wondering if everyone back in Sunnydale is holding up without us' earned her a pointed look, somewhere between unimpressed and have you lost your bloody mind?

"A dragon. A horde of demons. Gunn bleeding to death. Angel being pompous with that stupid haircut. Illyria ripping spleens out with her bare hands. Fred, but not Fred. It's a long story. What's all this about Sunnydale? You know as well as I do that the only people waiting for you in Sunnydale are burned up ashes."

He hesitated, after the words cascaded like a waterfall. What if she didn't know? Tara was here and the good witch had been dead previously, up in smoke, so to speak. That made for a wonky timeline.

"Unless you don't."
wereperrito: (confused)

[personal profile] wereperrito 2024-03-18 06:15 am (UTC)(link)
"No, I do not think we died," Jack says, shaking his head a little. "Ghosts do not interact with the world the same way. I did meet a ghost at the hotel, though."

He pauses. "What is the Shining?" Look, he knows some pop culture references from some cultures, but he missed that particular one.
wereperrito: (delighted)

no worries!

[personal profile] wereperrito 2024-03-18 06:23 am (UTC)(link)
Jack blinks in clear surprise, then suddenly looks delighted. He doesn't approach, but he does stop his own wanderings and smile brightly at her-- not a smile with teeth, really, but a smile with his mouth open like a dog's relaxed grin.

"Oh! Do you understand me?" Still in Spanish, but that's a variation on a phrase most people are taught when they take Spanish classes in school, so she might pick it up.
definitionofcrazy: (Say what?)

[personal profile] definitionofcrazy 2024-03-18 08:50 am (UTC)(link)
"Damn. I thought we just eighty-sixed it."

She'd expected more than vampires, but... the First. She'd known the First wasn't gone, but it should have at least been done, at least for a while. A decade, a century, something. She feels like they've barely had time to rest.

Still. Not much good bitching about it is gonna do. So she shuts up and she follows Buffy through the club, body already tensed and blood already pumping. She's been keyed up for a scrap since she walked through the doors, so it doesn't take much to set it off.
ironrider: (1686549 (17))

[personal profile] ironrider 2024-03-18 02:40 pm (UTC)(link)
The first City Parent was discovered by the Glass Walkers in London, the City Father, in 1882. Making the city historically significant to the tribe and a city of great spiritual power. After the passing of his wife, Ashley's grandfather migrated to California with his young son. Ash wasn't born in England but his father and every generation before him has been.

Every time he chugs down a cup of coffee he thinks about the look on his grandfathers face. Remembers his teasing banter over tea verses coffee.

"Tell me the story behind the song you just sang." Ashley loves the piano. In his home in New York there is a beautiful baby grand that he frequently plays. One of the few things his mother had been allowed to teach him. Music wasn't a priority when the goal was to raise a warrior. She saw how it calmed him and gave him focus, made him come alive in a way that the training with his grandfather didn't. Ash grins at her and nods. "Love music. All of it really. Well, that's a lie, I'm not much of a country music fan. Anything with a good beat you can move to." The way she smiles makes him pause and take her in. Remember the way her eyes lit up. "Power ballads are for karaoke night. I lean toward Journey."
ironrider: (1686549 (68))

[personal profile] ironrider 2024-03-18 02:54 pm (UTC)(link)
"Where the hell did you get a tank from?" He was going to have to tell Chrissy to step up her party planning.

Ash taps a finger against his own chest. "I feel like I lost something. Something big." Someone. That's what he kept thinking, someone not something. He hated feeling that way. Like he walked into a room and can't remember why he crossed the threshold in the first place. "Keep thinking maybe my mind is trying to protect me by not letting me remember."

Nodding in agreement he picks up his freshly delivered drink and taps it against Kavinsky's. "To making your own decisions."

Taking a swallow from his drink gives him time to think of a question to ask. He had been pretty certain K would choose dare. "What kind of power do you already have?"
ironrider: (1686549 (98))

[personal profile] ironrider 2024-03-18 03:01 pm (UTC)(link)
"How do ghosts interact with the world?" The way he said that gave him the impression that ghosts weren't new or shocking. That he had experience. "No shit? At the hotel?"

Ash smirks. "Stephen King book turned movie. There is a creepy pair of twins."
ironrider: (1686549 - 2024-02-21T142219)

[personal profile] ironrider 2024-03-18 03:43 pm (UTC)(link)
Trouble. She is trouble. The kind of trouble he likes to get himself into. "As a man of science," What he says is true. It's also a line. If ever a day comes where he doesn't flirt back with a gorgeous woman? Check his pulse, he's probably dead. His smirk is flirtatious in subtle, almost boyish way. A dimple forms on the right side of his lips and his lashes dip lower over his eyes as he looks at her. "I'm morally obligated to test that theory as many times as you need." He clears his throat and his smile only grows. "You know, make sure you get some action."

The way she moves catches his attention again. She gives off that kind of energy that draws people in. He would be a liar if he said he wasn't intrigued already. Her movements speak of confidence that is earned over time. Fought for. Her gaze sweeps over the room, over the other people, his bright eyes stay on her. "Yes, very intriguing. But, I'm a sucker for a gorgeous, funny woman who can likely kick my ass."
theconsequences: (๐ŸŒŒ is it by mistake or design)

[personal profile] theconsequences 2024-03-18 03:47 pm (UTC)(link)
Mack laughs, both delighted and surprised at his casual response. Of course, she's a coyote, so it comes out more like a few quiet yips.

She does understand, although she has to translate in her head for a moment. She is momentarily annoyed with herself; her childhood best friend used to tell her to work on her Spanish, that it would be useful to Mack eventually. It wouldn't have been difficult. Her best friend's abuela only spoke Spanish, so Mack learned her key phrases, but she didn't have much of a talent for languages.

Or she simply just didn't care enough to try.

Mack nods again, moving slightly so she can lazily rest her chin on the gravestone before her. A very casual, human move, like resting an arm against a wall. She's not ready to shift back to human form to maintain a more in-depth conversation (again, she's just a random girl walking around a graveyard) but she's still pretty fascinated by how he caught on so quickly, and with so little disbelief. She tries to gesture with her nose towards him, curious if he'll fill up the silence.
diana_abel: (Serious)

[personal profile] diana_abel 2024-03-18 03:51 pm (UTC)(link)
Okay, okay, the dude had good taste in music. She could get behind most of that, although she had to admit, country had started growing on her. Maybe it was because there was a new generation taking over. Time would tell.

Since, apparently, she had time now. Still a lot to wrap her brain around, but she wasn't exactly complaining.

Diana very much enjoyed being alive. Undead. Whatever. Around. That seemed like the best word for it.

She considered lowering her lashes and coyly asking what made him think there was a story behind it. Something stopped her, though. Maybe because the song really did have a certain emotional kick to it. "It's about my sister," she said. "I have two, one older, one younger." She rolled her eyes. "Yes, I'm the poster child of a middle child." Always looking for her place. Always trying to stand out. Always trying to get attention, until she got the wrong kind. "She gave up the love of her life. She'd never admit that's what he was but...well, she's stubborn." Slightly cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs, although not nearly as much as she pretended. Mostly, it was stubbornness.

Page 6 of 11