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Blurry Line [IC]

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Blurry Line [IC]

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby That One Guy on Thu Jul 21, 2011 12:33 pm

Caramel


Image“No biting next time, it leaves a mark on me indicating I’ve been with someone else. Which many customers do not like to be reminded of that fact Officer Stevens.” Caramel adjusted his robe on as he got up off of the bed; flashing the naked Officer a look as he went over to his bathroom to freshen up. “I told you your time was up five minutes ago, please leave.” Caramel’s tone was not really all that cold, but it was firm. This customer was cutting into his free-time, and all because he had an ‘emergency’ need to come to his favorite whore. Police Officers were given special treatment and favors, and this was one of them, visiting at any point in the day. Their odd hours made it harder for them to frequent the night. “Are you listen-?!” Somehow the Officer was now behind him, his arm around his waist and his head rested on Caramel’s shoulder. “No biting, no cuffs, you are so fussy.” Officer Stevens kissed his neck and backed away, heading out the door, fully dressed, hat on shirt tucked in and shoes tied. How did he get dressed that fast? Caramel’s aghast face left him quickly as the Officer left, suddenly not caring how the Officer got dressed at the speed of light.

He quickly closed the door and fastened the many locks that lined it. There were about five of them, and each was different, call it overkill but he had to be careful. Especially since he was going behind his boss’s back and doing something she probably would not approve of. It didn’t bother his conscience in the least, but it did make him protective of his space, he felt safe in his room, even if he did have to share it with a horny person every so often. His room, a product of his taste, was colored purple and gold. Cushions riddled the floor, and plush fur rugs could be spotted here and there, layered on top of one another under other types of cushion rugs. His tea table in the middle of the room was where he set up station most of the time, or of course served his guests tea. It lay low to the ground and required others to kneel or sit cross-legged. His bed had curtains that enclosed him and his ‘partner’ during sex, and his room was quite windowless. Candles were his main light, but his room did have a light overhead that he used when the mood struck him. And of course the incense box that he had next to his bed stand told him how long each customer had. Officer Stevens had two sticks worth of time.

A quick shower washed away the filth Caramel was covered in, and a towel wrapped his hair up to dry. He started his laptop up quickly, the homepage was a map cite, in which it showed him a map of the city. He had learned to quickly read a map, no use in wondering aimlessly when you are some sort of spirit that no one can see. He combed through his hair, bathrobe still on and kneeled before his tea-table, looking through the local news website. The news had failed to report the organized crime that had gone on these days, but still reported a few straggling loners who were not working for anyone in particular. If you were working under a boss you had leverage, if you were alone then you were just some criminal that the public became easily annoyed with. Vigilantes were always in the news, descriptions of powers and faces were posted for the purpose of hunting them down and throwing them in prison. They were disruptors of the peace according to the law. He sighed as he ran through the blurred pictures and masked faces. He had studied each of the ones listed, and a few that weren’t. The names that the newspaper had given them were catchy, that was the funny part.

He shut the computer down; an hour had passed, three hours until work time, night. Dinner would soon be served and he debated going down to the dinning hall. He decided against it and instead leaned back, falling into a pillow. He’d meditate for a few, and see what was going on, because today was an extremely important day after all. Today was the day it all began. Fate’s wheel was spinning at last, and if he could help it he’s be there to make it spin in the favor of good.

He closed his eyes and flushed his mind of excess thought, drifting into a half sleep until he found himself looked down at his body. Time to go creep about like a creeper then.


F L A W L E S S


ImageThe sickening crack that reverberated through Flawless’ ears was nothing other than the solid snap of bone. To be specific it was the bones of a neck that were being snapped. “You see? I have no issue with snuffing out any number of you.” He stated flatly, tilting his head to look down at the cowering men before him. They numbered five, not including the man he had squeezed the life out of. “And to think, I was just going straight home today. Instead, I find six robbers robbing a van of coke…coca cola of all things. Are you part of any organization I may be familiar.” Flawless crossed his arms, his voice demanding.

All five men nodded yes, “Yah we ah part ah…Viola’s crew yah!” One of them piped up. The rest agreed vigorously. Viola was a Mafia Don, the Italian sect. Flawless had Viola under his thumb.

“Oh, you are?” He laughed his booming laugh, “And here I thought you were a random sort of people, my mistake. I shouldn’t have attacked you.”
The five cronies laughed their own booming laughs, and nodded, getting up and dusting themselves off. “You simply need to show me your tags….you know, your member tags?” They became silent at the face of Flawless’ cold reply. He had them caught; he knew they weren’t working for anyone under his thumb when he did attack them. Only idiots would attack a truck full of soda, thinking it held something else. To their defense, the truck had no logos on it.

A couple of minutes later Flawless exited the alley, flying towards his penthouse to meet up with none other than Viola. He arrived through the open window, his hair windswept and falling into place. His penthouse was bleak, very empty save for his desk and the numerous visual equipments that allowed him to view certain parts of the city. He was wired through to any place that had cameras connected to a network. On his desk were stacks of paper, a computer and a phone. A couple of chairs were set behind the desk for the comfort of his guests. One such person was seated, Viola, with his two bodyguards flanking him, they were not allowed to sit apparently.

“Ah Viola, you know I was just talking about you, some men claimed that they were working for you. Idiots were stealing from a Soda truck.”

“My men will hunt them down for you. That is, if you so wish.” Viola was a complacent man, eager to please and a complete snake. Flawless was aware that he only acted the way he did to ensure his good status, but Flawless didn’t care, so long as his desires were carried out.

“No no, it’s fine, I took care of them. How is business then? Are your men prepared to turn to my cause?” He stood, hands behind his back, watching Viola’s every reaction and expression.

“I have weeded out those who do not see eye to eye with the way my organization is going. And I trust that we will be allowed to continued business until the transition period?” Viola was playing it cool.

“Yes of course, it would be wise for you to wrap it up of course, but yes. I will be contacting the newspaper soon, would you mind having your men bring the their head to me? I have a few requests for him. Oh and there is also someone else I would like to speak to, There is a criminal by the name of Conduit, you dug some dirt on him and told me he needed money for his hospitalized father right? Have your men extended him an offer will you? We could use his talents, and fund his father’s expenses I’m sure.

Flawless smiled and looked out the window, “Almost dinner time isn’t it? Care to join me?”
Last edited by That One Guy on Thu Jul 21, 2011 4:55 pm, edited 5 times in total.
(°□°)┻━┻
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Re: Blurry Line [IC]

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Unicorn Luv on Thu Jul 21, 2011 12:34 pm

What was this? What was that? Why? Millions of questions were conveyed through slate colored eyes; they belonged to someone who knew next to nothing of everything. The flat color of the eyes this thing possessed was an inaccurate representation of the activity that went on behind them. Symbols she had seen over and over again meant nothing, but were categorized successfully, and sounds which were once foreign were now familiar. It had been a total of two days since she had awoken, and although fast, her thoughts were getting hazy. She was dehydrated and hungry. Like most two year olds, Beloved had tried to shove certain things into her mouth and eat them, but so far metal and plastic did not appeal to her appetite. Her mood had started to become gloomy and frustrated.

Every new door she had gone through held nothing but the same white surroundings and more objects that did not taste good. That lack of other beings like her was also something that subconsciously made her worry. She was quite aware of herself, and somehow knew that she shouldn’t be alone. The only other beings that had looked like her seemed to be broken and covered in brown and red. Their clothing was not like hers either, she wore all black and they wore all white. Besides, they didn’t move at all, and she had given up on them a while ago. Instead she had continued wondering, mimicking noises when she heard them, and carefully gliding around so she did not to break anymore things than she already had. Certain guilt riddled her nerves whenever she did something like that, especially when something was not for eating and it had been smashed by her teeth anyway.

Beloved’s head lolled to the side as she sighed, her posture was slumped as she glided a few inches off of the ground monotonously, turning into another wall with a split down the middle, which she had learned indicated an opening. The sliding doors opened for her, making a whooshing noise, which she mimicked out of habit.

Her head righted itself as her eyes went wide; the room she just entered was drastically different from any other she had ever seen. A circular dome of a room was completely clear, showing trillions of bright lights. Even if she did not know what they were, stars, she did know one thing, they were wondrous. Tiny dots all around her, she spun around and smiled, mouth and arms wide. Beloved’s heartbeat went up as she reached the middle of the room, her reflection coming into view through a tall mirror that placed itself in her path.

The mirror started to whir and buzz. Her face came closer as she touched the mirror ever so lightly, seeing herself for the first time, it had to be her right? Her hands and her clothes were the same as the reflection. She smiled and her reflection smiled. One thing did not match though, it began to glow red, the mirror. She backed up, red was not a color she liked, in fact it was her least favorite. Her indignant expression and reproachful look glared at the mirror.

A beam of red hit her, and she found herself unable to move. The red beam multiplied and began working her DNA into bits, making her body disappear. Her body was recreated down on earth, appearing in the middle of the street in bits and pieces, finishing in a matter of five seconds.

Five seconds is not a very long time. And certainly not long enough for a van to swerve out of the way when a person appears in the middle of the road. And so it was that a van did crash into Beloved.

She lurched forward a few inches in surprise, her hands grabbing behind her, which stopped the van from flipping. Beeps and horns angrily sounded all around her, making her panic even more than she already was. Large metal objects stopped or whizzed by her, they were cars, but entirely unfamiliar to her. She let her grip go of the front of the van, turning around and pushing it off of her, her indent on the front of the van could be made out, as well as where her hands had gripped it. The van skidded back a foot or so, and Beloved took its overlook to mean she had broken it. The back of her outfit was now tattered, and the split on her right-thigh which showed the tattoo of her name had gotten even wider. Her knee-high boots touched the ground as she lowered herself to it, her hands covering her mouth in her guilty expression. They moved to her ears as she crouched down, scrunching her eyes closed as well. Images and noises she did not care for being sorted out. It was so loud all of a sudden! She wanted it to stop right now, but did not know how to make it stop. The sudden over-stimulus made her head spin even more than it had been with dehydration.

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Re: Blurry Line [IC]

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Medic on Thu Jul 21, 2011 9:49 pm

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Last edited by Medic on Fri Jul 22, 2011 12:06 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Re: Blurry Line [IC]

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Kurokiku on Thu Jul 21, 2011 10:22 pm

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A small, dilapidated wheelchair rolled down the battered city sidewalk, silent save for the occasional squeak of a wheel. Inside it sat an equally small, dilapidated person; a youth wearing long pants, a coat, and an old-fashioned cabbie’s hat. The delicate figure moved its arms in swift, smooth strokes, propelling the chair forward with a determined expression. Slung across the back of the chair was a scuffed, beaten instrument case. Someone who knew anything about music would recognize it as a violin, but then, who knew much about such old music anymore?

A man, tall and lean and beautiful, walked along behind the chair and slightly to one side, but he did not offer to push it nor assist the seated figure in carrying their burden. This was not unexpected; he never had done her much good, she supposed. For indeed, though it may take more than one glance to tell, the seated adolescent with the paper-thin physique and porcelain-doll skin was in fact female.

September ceased in her motions abruptly, pulling her hands to her lap. They were shaking again, like leaves in the wind, and she was beginning to feel it more than she did most of the time. It wasn’t so bad as it had once been; Virgil was capable of regrowing new muscle to deteriorate in the place of the old, and she had been less than a week ago. Still, she was pushing her luck venturing so far away from her home, and she well knew it. She well knew just about everything she cared to, and many things that she did not. Doubling over in the seat, September clasped her hands together tightly, focusing and trying to suppress the neural pain-signals that shot up her sore arms from the repetitive motions. Her breaths were thin and ragged, but she did not grimace.

After about thirty seconds, the pain eased to manageable levels, and she sat back up again, shooting the man behind her a look. He returned it to her in a way that might have conveyed sympathy, and this did cause her to frown. “Stop it,” she mumbled, and he nodded almost imperceptibly.

“As you wish, my dear. Shall I smile for you instead?” A telltale twitch appeared at the corners of his mouth, and she shook her head.

“Do what you want,” she replied flatly, leveling her eyes once again ahead of her. It hurt, sometimes, to watch him smile. He was all warm Mediterranean sunshine and life, and if she wasn’t careful, such things may well melt the ice off her heart. Or, well… they would if not for one small consideration that she disliked thinking about. Setting her jaw, September started again, this time veering off the main sidewalk and onto a path that would take her into Glades Park, one of the few well-kept spaces left in the city. Well, besides the seedier establishments, anyway. She’d heard the Whorehouse was quite nicely maintained.

Parking herself near a fountain, September managed to transfer herself from the damned chair and onto the lip of the water feature without too much difficulty. She refused to play from a wheelchair; she always had. Maybe it was just that the one thing left in life that she enjoyed without reserve should not be tainted by the same poisonous frailty that touched everything else. Maybe she was simply stubborn. Each possibility was as likely as the other. Sighing softly, she glanced up at the sky. The dusk was just beginning to paint the sky with rosy fingertips, and she surmised it must be dinnertime for most people by now. How long had it been since she’d last slept? Last eaten?

…Three hours, five minutes since she’d eaten, twenty-seven hours, thirty-two minutes since she’d woken last. A mind like hers didn’t leave room for idle speculation. It knew, and it answered. Daydreams were for people without enough thoughts to fill the requisite space-time. September Sylvan did not deal in such nonsense as daydreams.

“Are you going to play for me now?” The man’s light tenor drew her attention, and she amended her last thought slightly. He was sitting beside her now, smiling that heart-melting smile, and she nodded sagely. Grasping the case from the back of her chair, she brought it to her lap with some effort and flipped the clasps open, withdrawing the smooth, reddish friend she’d had for years. Strings never failed her, wood did not sting. And even when she failed them, left them idle for to long in lieu of nursing the pain of aching hands and a wounded soul, they did not abandon her.

Tucking the instrument beneath her chin, September ran a few test notes, adjusting a bit when she heard that one of them was a trifle off-key. It was so slight that most people would not have noticed it, but, as she was constantly reminded, she was not most people. Taking a deep breath, September slowly sank into herself, and the first note fell from the slender violin effortlessly, followed by a rather melancholic tune that she had always enjoyed.

She had chosen the park not only because of its cleanliness, but because she was not allowed to play in her apartment building without fear of a noise violation. Of course, the landlord’s son had loud parties every weekend, but the one time she’d brought that up, she’d nearly been evicted, and so she now played in public places from which none could remove her. When she’d first come to this city, she’d played on street corners, case open to receive donations, and some days she still did, but she didn’t really expect an audience today.

“No audience?” he questioned teasingly. “What about me, love?”

But he wasn’t real, and she knew it.
Last edited by Kurokiku on Fri Jul 22, 2011 11:49 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Re: Blurry Line [IC]

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Baby on Thu Jul 21, 2011 11:41 pm

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"Tea, Mistress Bixlow?"

Yoebe was lying on her bed, going in and out of consciousness. A deep, male voice was blurred through her ears, and she could not recognize it nor understand the words.

Yoebe was on her bed, naked and sweating. The red and cream sheets under her were mussed, and the wrinkles caused by rough pulling were intensified towards the center, where Yoebe lay. In the quiet room, you could hear panting. The type of panting that came after you ran a mile in P.E under the hot sun, while your slightly overweight, adolescent body was still getting through it's awkward phase. The panting came from Yoebe alone, who was on her stomach, her face pointing away from the wall and her golden eyes, which were usually bright and almost glowing with life, were dull and hazed over. Her only movement was the small of her back going up and down to match her desperate breathing.

"Mistress Bixlow?"

Biro Jeeves, the primary butler of the WhoreHouse, and occasionally the bodyguard of Yoebe Bixlow, was dressed in his normal tuxedo. He was thirty seven, a full ten years older than Yoebe, with no noticeable signs of age, except for a small gray streak going through the left side of his gelled over black hair, and said streak was turning white over the years. Jeeves was standing next to the bed, fixing his white gloves while giving a casual glance at his motionless mistress. When Yoebe still did not respond, he took out a single needle that was hidden in his sleeves and lightly dug into a pressure point in her back. For a few seconds, nothing happened. Jeeves had put away his needle and gave a once over on his hair, to make sure it was perfect. Guests were coming soon.

Suddenly, Yoebe bolted from her spot and grabbed, well, tried to, at her back. Jeeves was laughing lightly to himself while his back was facing the bed, staring at a mirror on a wall and pretending to be engrossed in his primping. "Tea, Mistress Bixlow?" Jeeves repeated calmly, not giving away the smile that was appearing on his lips. Yoebe looked around, taking in her surroundings and saw Jeeves at the mirror, her golden eyes getting their life back with every passing second. "You..." Yoebe whispered darkly, while looking at Jeeves through the mirror. His green eyes did not falter in their sobriety while he turned to face her. He looked innocent; the harmless, yet very tall and muscular, butler, who modestly appealed to all guests of the WhoreHouse.

"I said to be gentle motherfucker!" Yoebe's face was slightly pink in her anger while she threw a pillow at her trusted butler. The pillow hit Jeeves' chest, and fell to the floor. The moment the soft red pillow hit the even softer matching red carpet, Yoebe was on Jeeves, her legs on his waist to support her and her pink face puffing up in anger. She was thrashing at his broad shoulders with her small, balled up fists, cursing and screaming.

"Mistress Bixlow, you have not had your tea. I'll prepare you some at once." Jeeves said calmly, though his smile was now completely visible, betraying his attempt to be serious. He pried Yoebe off of his torso like you would a cat who got it's claws stuck in the drapery, carefully, making sure it's claws do not scratch you. He took the opportunity to escape the room and get Yoebe her tea, who would be temperamental for the next hour without it. Not that she was without reason, if you were to look closely at Yoebe's body, you would notice that there were small blue bruises (that would turn purple later) around her hips and buttocks, marks of her evening sex with Jeeves.

When the door closed, Yoebe's phone rang. The ringtone was the sound of a woman moaning that only got louder and more erotic as you continued to ignore the person calling. Yoebe snatched her phone and answered it, taking out her temper on petty actions.

"Hello?" Yoebe said, her voice was sweet, soft, and calm. A drastic transition from before. Yoebe was preparing a shower and getting out a new dress, her old one ripped away, to put on the bed. She had an important guest coming in twenty minutes, the start of her busy evening.
Last edited by Baby on Fri Jul 29, 2011 10:47 pm, edited 2 times in total.

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Re: Blurry Line [IC]

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Soki on Fri Jul 22, 2011 1:57 am

Thought the day was not entirely over yet, Lucas felt the need to take on his alter ego and go on a criminal hunt. Most of his day had been spent in a business meeting with the board to his families company. His father; Cian, a well-respected business man and seller of arms to the government. The man was nearing his mid-fifties, but yet was still a strong man. Lucas figured it was the gritty Irish in his father that kept him from growing frail with age.

He currently stood in his penthouse condo looking out the window to the people below. He felt a small bit of pity to the people that acted like everything would be alright, but most of all he felt ashamed of what this country had become. Lucas made his way to his room, digging through his closet for a change of clothes, finding the business attire to much for just a visit with a friend. His chosen attire for the casual meeting, a pair of black jeans complete with a pair of DC shoes, a sleeveless band t-shirt with leather jacket over it. Though his attire, would not be complete without his sunglasses which he placed on his face. He was ready to go, opening the door and moving towards the elevator hitting the down button.

Once he was in the garage portion of the building, he took his time choosing something to drive for the day. choosing to take his old favorite out for the day; R33 skyline, climbing into the drivers seat and was off, He had an appointment with an old friend; Mistress Yoebe; someone he had a history with, and a promise to keep with her as well. He got lucky and hadn't been caught in traffic taking his time as he climbed out of the car and locked it, the car giving a chirp to let him know it was as he made his way towards the entrance of the whorehouse. He knocked twice before entering. He wasn't sure if she would be ready yet, the last he had seen her had been, well a situation he felt best not to think about at present time either.

He shut the door behind him and looked around, taking a second to re-familiarize himself with the building as he stood there. When a butler, who he could tell was not Jeeves came up to greet him he rose a hand. "I'm here to see Mistress Yoebe, please let her know that I'm here; and would be very happy to see her this fine day." The man acknowledged Lucas' words and was off to do just that. Lucas himself placed his hands behind his back, his left grabbing the wrist of his right as he stood staring at the decor of the building, he had always found this place quite beautiful, he couldn't help but find that the beauty of this place, could only seem dull compared to it's owner.
Last edited by Soki on Sat Jul 23, 2011 2:05 am, edited 1 time in total.
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"Suggest that we escape by putting fish in our mouths so we can breath while under water AGAIN I will Ninja punch you so hardcore it will knock you out and when you wake up? the force of it will knock you out a second time before you wake up!"

RM:"Please promise to kill me with your pants on" BM:"I PROMISE NOTHING!"

"IN THE NAME OF MEANINGLESS BATTLE!" *Attacks*

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Re: Blurry Line [IC]

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Yonbibuns on Fri Jul 22, 2011 8:57 am

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An obscurely caustic dementia snaps ducky-yellow dish-washing gloves. An oppressive consequential deadening of the twisted man's heart causes him to feather the rubber gloves across his face, spreading the warmth across his jawline and lips. An obnoxiously cruel phobia causes his fingers to suddenly shake, clench and smash against the dashboard, because the redness makes him want to shower. And that irony speckles the hideous colour across the window, revealing a macabre scene far ostentatious than himself. Prime cuts lied frozen in the back of the butcher's van, wound up on meat hooks; some had already been peeled fresh from their often tedious skin, some hadn't been touched but remained bound in black zipped-up bags. His mouth slavered at the thought, but he remembered himself and coughed mannerly into his gloved fingers. His recent kill had been as easy as cutting a delicious sliver of apple pie; his preferred weapon, a serrated hunting blade, fit perfectly into the depression of flesh behind the pig-eyed man's eyes – his temples – and smashed through the thinner bone there, sinking into soft brain with little resistance. He was fattier – harder to butcher, but tastier by far. He licked the top of his fist and suckled a bit of the blood off, savouring the flavour. A little gamey, but it'd have to do.

Felix was a delicate little thing, short and spare with not an ounce of excess fat on him, and not much in the way of muscle. It was truly an amazing feat dragging the larger prey into the back of the van, but not one that he could entirely call his own. If not for his grotesque abilities, hunting would prove to be much, much more difficult. And what would the fun in that be? He wanted his meals now; not later, poached and boiled and baked with seasoned garlic and sautéed vegetables. Irony was his favourite companion, if you might've noticed. The meat hooks in the back of the van always slid easily in behind the Achilles tendon, through both feet; successfully keeping the body's blood to the man's succulent brain, and freezing it there until it was properly prepared. Freezing said bodies prevented rigour mortise. He fingered the edge of his heavy cleaver lovingly, pressing the flat cold steel of the side to his cheek for a moment while driving steadily with his free hand clutched to the steering wheel. He could still feel the soft, warm liver on his tongue, the taste of blood at the corners of his mouth. Delicious.

Skinless, bloodless, hanging upside-down with a meat hook through his legs, they resembled any other meat carcass. Being caught wasn't one of his primary fears, anyway. They might've searched his van for probably evidence, seen the hanging, fleshy meats and assumed it was of the bovine variety. Felix wore the butcher man's clothes and white, dirtied apron; and a caustic, genuine smile across his face. He might've explained why he had blood slathered across his lips, but he wasn't intending to be stopped any time soon. Drool builds up on his carnivorous tongues, betraying his thoughts and intentions – much like a begging hound, it would seem. But no! He was more intelligent than that. His hungers and desires were far more cultured than that. He couldn't stoop so low as to compare himself to a canine. No, it wouldn't do. Felix scratched his chin with the rubber gloves, successfully ignoring the tempting urge to find the nearest sink and wash himself of the sticky substance. All in due time, he'd remind himself, all in due time.

Immediately, as Felix drove, he thought of returning to the WhoreHouse. His household was unsuitable for anything besides dining on his hearty, often rude, meals. The WhoreHouse posed as a non-judgemental refuge he could continuously return to and lavish in it's beauty. Yoebe, the fine mistress of the prestige institute, didn't seem to mind his disgusting habits – or else, she wasn't particularly aware. She was a lithe beauty with alabaster skin that caught the moon and his shimmering eyes. However, he was sure that if he ever offered a nice, clean bottle of Chianti, that she'd outright refuse. He tapped his fingers again his lips, letting them linger there.

And then, without a moment's notice a strange beam of light crackled into the pavement in front of him. It seemed to come from the sky, but he didn't have time to be entirely sure. A myriad of colours blinded him, disappearing like a strike of lightning. Had he been the only one to see it? No one else seemed effected. The butcher's van attempted to skid to a halt, to save his precious cargo, but without the allotted amount of time he only swerved towards the feminine body standing wholly in the middle of the street. What the hell was she doing there? Instead of mutilating her slender body, the van suddenly halted it's momentum. Everything stopped, but he still had to brace himself against the dashboard. It nearly met his skull! Grumbling incoherently, Felix raised his crimson eyes to see the unjustified sight before him; the woman had held back the van and easily pushed the van a few feet back, smoking and hissing in protest. From the obvious indention, it was clear that the butcher's van would no longer be functional and he was going to be without a meal – how dare she! How dare she simply rob him of that!

You!” The man hissed, rubbing sourly at his mouth with the white apron. He quickly disposed of the rubber gloves, threw them down at his feet and exited the vehicle. He was still wearing his hoodie pulled up over his chestnut locks, effectively hiding his malformations. And then the fickle creature was huddling itself in the middle of the road, crouched down and scrunching her eyes closed like a little girl hiding from the world. The sight was unseemly and for once, he didn't know what to do. A scowl curdled his countenance, crinkling his nose and slender eyebrows. His fingers stretched at his sides, curling, uncurling – and finally, resting. Blame sorely landed on this pathetic creature, whom he could still respect for simply palming the butcher's van away from her. What sort of thing was she, anyway? Surely, not something of his kind. Right? He licked his lips indecisively, regaling in the after-tastes of copper. Fine. He'd have to, just to be sure. Decidedly, Felix strode towards the crumpled woman and touched her shoulder; tenderly, at first, and then gripping assuredly.

“You might...” He began, voice raspy from disuse. “want to move out of the road. You'll get hit. By a car, no less.”
Last edited by Yonbibuns on Fri Jul 22, 2011 11:19 am, edited 1 time in total.
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Re: Blurry Line [IC]

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Lovely VonSchultz on Fri Jul 22, 2011 11:19 am

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Image His chest was thrumming with every bass beat. His head was swimming with all the neon bright colors. His feet moved of their own accord as the melody tore him from his seat and onto a floor filled with sweating bodies, spilled drinks, and heavy breathing. He didn’t look seventeen, and even if he did, no one cared. He moved like fire, his sneakers carrying him easily around each woman he touched. Their hips swayed toward him and his smile made them smile.

Ludis had no idea what he was doing. He was too high to really care. A few numbers were slipped into his torn jeans and one woman even found her way into the waist line of his boxers. She was frisky. Still, he didn’t care. Give him a man with fingers that deft and you’ve got his attention.

The music that had pulled him helplessly back to the dance floor turned into something else and Ludis realized he needed more. More sugar. More Snow. More of that sweet, sweet Aunt Nora that always caressed his nerves into a sleeping baby. The place where he found himself was a dark corner where the neon lights couldn’t find him. It didn’t matter though, because his skin was effervescent. The men and women around, all high as kites, thought it an illusion and perhaps that was why Ludis always found himself back in this place. The only one who knew it was real, who knew the strange things Ludis could do, was Carry. He was Ludis’s guide, his protector when he needed it, his supplier. He was N E O N’s dark side. He was the shadow that crept over the bright rainbow that would explode randomly from Ludis’s heart.

As if he knew, as if the man could read Ludis’s ever predictable mind, there he sat. A new line ready to be whisked away in. Fluidly, stepping over one woman who was already passed out, head in Carry’s lap, Ludis knelt over top of her and took in one last hit. For a moment, his brain ceased functioning and he just stared at the bright green lights flashing from the dance floor. His eyes fogged over and he sat perched over that woman, watching as bodies melted into each other and the lights filled up all the crevices left void by them. Something tingled through his brain and behind his eyes and then his veins iced over. N E O N was something invincible. N E O N was immortal. N E O N was so high right now he didn’t know what he was.

“Take a drink.” Carry’s voice floated into his clogged ears like a lullaby sung from a sweet mother. His hands brushed over Ludis’s gauze covered fingers and placed a tall glass of something fruity there. Ludis drank blindly. Carry would never hurt him. Carry would keep him safe. Carry took care of him and nursed him when he was unwell. When he’d taken a bad hit. When he’d gone a little too far.

“CARRY!” Ludis screamed at the top of his lungs, standing on the cushioned bench seat and throwing his arms into the air.

After his episode, Carry reluctantly carried Ludis out of the club and into the morning air. He’d been partying all night. With his head resting against the taller man’s shoulder, Ludis sighed and jumped out of his arms, bouncing a few times and then running his thin fingers through his hair.

“Thanks, Carry.” He smiled wide, his blue eyes shining brightly in the morning sun. The bass beats from the club inside were still going. Carry didn’t smile back, just reached into his back pocket and withdrew his wallet. Five hundred dollars found its way into Ludis’s pocket and for just a moment, the young man stood there and smelled his cologne. It reminded him of someone he wished to see. Someone who smelled clean like that. Ludis stepped back from Carry, watching his face and seeing that he was a remorseless man. He wasn’t on the side of good the way Ludis wanted to be.

Ludis still couldn’t stop smiling, even if the way Carry was looking at him made the smile a forced one. He was better off here. He felt good with cocaine in his system and Carry made him feel special if even for a moment.

“Don’t give that out to those bums in that building.” Carry sighed, shoving his hands into his pockets and turning back to the club door. Ludis just nodded his head and turned to leave. Carry had a way of making him feel special, and then turning right around and making him feel like just another customer. It was life though. He needed his fix and Carry was the only person he trusted to get it for him.

So Ludis made his merry way toward the park, his pocket stuffed with pity cash and his brain floating around like a bright pink cloud in the sky. It would be hours later, while hanging upside down from a nearby tree, that he would watch the girl in her wheelchair begin to play the violin. He liked it. It made him feel… sad. Ludis wasn’t a sad person so he figured that meant she was pretty good. He stood in front of her, and tossed a ten dollar bill into the violin case. But he never left.

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Re: Blurry Line [IC]

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Rispetto on Fri Jul 22, 2011 11:41 am

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Saint Alexander's Hospital. The hospital in particular that held his father in Intensive Care. The doctors had informed him that he hadn't much time left, but Avræci tried his best to fund any procedure that could be done. It disappointed him greatly that he had to use his powers for such a unjust cause. But it was necessary and the only way he could think of possibly recovering his father's health. He was headed towards this hospital, traveling along the street lamps that lined a main road. As he moved along, each bulb shattered as he bound from it.

There as a particular accident as he made his way, a woman had stopped a van with her hands. Avræci was interested, but felt no desire to aid this person at that time, his father was his first priority. He soon came to the hospital's block and dived into the underground power lines via a power pole, shooting through the circuits. He navigated through the hospitals electrical wiring up to the bathroom of the floor his father was located on. There was a blow dryer that was connected to the wiring, and that was what he came out of, panting and sweating in the formal suit he wore. After all, his father thought him a business man.

The Middleman, as they called him, stepped into the room after Conduit. His black shades and black suit hid everything about him, from his blank expression to his muscles. "Ehem..." The subject Conduit's father was asleep. So he spoke frankly. "There is an associate of mine who wishes to help you out with your money troubles...Conduit."

Avræci turned his head to the anonymous man, eyes boring into him. Thoughts raced through his head as to how this man could possibly know he was Conduit, and a smile soon spread across his face. "Ah," he began, walking up to the man with overbearing steps, seeming to make himself appear superior. "You're a sensor, aren't you? That's the only logical excuse here. And if you know about my powers... Then you know that I'm not one to be approached so directly." This was, of course, a bluff. But it didn't stop him from reaching out a finger and letting electricity arc between his finger tip and the man's forehead. He stared for a moment before grinning again and dropping his hand. "Who is this associate of yours?"

The Middleman smiled calmly, this man was funny. Sure he was no combatant, but did he really think that with his nice suit and obviously practiced calm, he didn't have his leverage? "I can approach anyone, simply because of who my associate is." He moved over to the chart on the bed and picked it up. "He already knows your father's condition, I checked it for him a while ago...His name is Viola. But what is more important is who Viola works for, the Mafia Don now has a higher up, and he goes by the name Flawless." He set the clipboard down and turned to Conduit.

"A man even you don't stand a prayer against I'm afraid, no one does. Maybe you've heard rumors of him?"

Avræci narrowed his eyes, his grin fading into a frown. "Flawless? What does he want with me? Why would he want to help me?" He cast his eyes towards his resting father, then back to the anonymous man. He sighed and brought his hand up to rub his temples, picking up the clipboard the man had set down and examining it before peering over it at him. "The fact that he's your associate won't make me hesitate killing you."

The Middleman smiled once more, his shaded glasses turning towards Avræci. "He wants you to work for him. A keeper of the peace, if you will. Killing if necessary. In return, Mr. Viola and Mr. Flawless wish to help you fund your father.

Avræci shook his head at the mention of killing. "No, I don't kill. If he wants me to work for him, he'll have to deal with me doing it my way. Or no deal." Avræci refused to kill anybody, especially an innocent. He wouldn't go against his morals that much, even if it meant saving his father. He couldn't...

The Middleman remained silent for a while before shaking his head. "I'm afraid that's not how Flawless works. And I'm afraid that you now have a hit on your head, Conduit." The man's voice was sincere, and he took off his glasses and rested his hand on Avræci's shoulder. It surprised Avræci slightly, the man's eyes were all black. No white. "You sure you won't reconsider?"

Avræci nodded and the tore his gaze away, staring at his resting father. "I'm sure." He watched the man shake his head and put his glasses, walking towards the door. He stopped and turned his head to say something, but decided against it and left without a word just as he had arrived.
Last edited by Rispetto on Tue Aug 02, 2011 7:01 pm, edited 2 times in total.
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Re: Blurry Line [IC]

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Unicorn Luv on Fri Jul 22, 2011 11:56 am

Vulnerable, as if she hadn't just pushed a van away with her bare hands, Beloved felt fear. She felt as though all of those impossibly loud noises were yelling at her for breaking something. Her hands did little to shield her hearing, though thankfully the worse noise, the noise of when she crashed, was gone. Only dull roars could be heard by her. But more than that, they were becoming dull roars because her mind was sorting them out. The distance between her and the noise became known. And when someone touched her shoulder, she wasn't too distracted to open her eyes. Slowly at first she opened them, guilty expression still on her face, but after seeing another being she unfurled, suddenly curious now. She looked him up and down, he was wearing colors that were both dark and light, like her and not, and he had made noise himself! The vibrating sound waves were her favorite part of this discovery, and just like that she changed from a scared little girl into a person struck by wonder. Quicker than a pregnant woman changed from angry to depressed.

"You might..." she gave the exact equal pause that the boy had given his words. "want to move out of the road. You'll get hit. By a car, no less." Her feminine purr of a voice could not match his rasp, but she tried her best. She was sitting now, but say little use in that, with her eyes still trained on him she slowly stood up, this time smiling and checking his face. Her pupil-less eyes memorizing everything as if it were precious. He was moving, but the red on his shirt suggested he shouldn't be. It was the same red as she had seen on the other broken beings, but he was not broken! Her excited mood had caused her to raise off of the ground a few inches, and she glided in a full circle at this being who was not broken. Other people got out of their cars and walked angrily towards the pair.

"Hey what the hell! Who the fuck goes out in the middle of the street and stops a Van of meat?! I almost ran into that van I'll have you know, you had better have damn good insurance woman." the burly and angry man's voice had steadily gotten calmer as he looked Beloved up and down, now curious and marveling at her physique in leather instead.

"Hey what the hell! Van!" Beloved moved her gaze from the man that approached them to the van, identifying the object. Language was already settling into her brain.

"Is she crazy? Maybe she got hit harder than I think." the man said, weirded out obviously. His expression became sour as Beloved repeated him again, this time word for word.

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Re: Blurry Line [IC]

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Blizzard on Fri Jul 22, 2011 7:06 pm

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Will visit violin girl in park today. Have yet to introduce myself to her, I am not confident without my mask. When I wear it, I feel stronger. Invincible. If only I could approach her as Pulse. Just around the corner, I can hear her music carried innocently on the wind, a line of white lice in the black filth that is the city. At first, it was chance. Happened to walk by during day. As it continued to happen, found myself intentionally finding my way to her. I am wasting time, but for now, it is alright.

Kat looked up from her journal at the park around her. Like she wrote in her journal, the sweet sound of the violin floated nonchalantly through the air. For a while, Katalin found she could ignore the stress of her 'pastime'. She stood from the picnic table was sitting at, and deposited her journal into the worn messenger bag on her side. Awkwardly edging from the center in between the bench and the table, she stretched her arms to the air and then retracted them, eyeing her surroundings for any who might have seen. Seeing none, she started towards the music.

A minute later, she rounded a corner in the central path and set her eyes upon the fountain, where her fixation of last several days sat; a girl in her later teens, accompanied by her wheelchair. The girl's body was rather confusing. In one glance, Kat would think she was a male, and in the next, quite sure of the opposite. Over the past few days Kat had become sure of the girl's gender, mainly because of her body language. The subtle differences in the way the body moved; Kat's eyes had adjusted to them during her time with The Illusionist. Kat leaned against a tree about 25 feet from the fountain, and watched the young violinist.

To most people the young girl lacked beauty, but to Kat, she was gorgeous. Not conforming to humanity's gross standard of beauty. Not spending hours in the morning on superficial sense of beauty. Focusing on more important things, not on appearance. That makes her beautiful. Pretty flower in field of dead dandelions, all waiting to be blown away by something more influential, while she stands out.

"Hmph. I should write that down..." Kat spoke under her breath to herself, not wanting to interrupt the music. She averted her eyes from the girl and gazed at the sky, the sun only just beginning to sink and the orange tendrils of sunset began to crawl up through the smog. Soon it would be time for Kat to don her mask and prowl the city. She'd been tipped of a mob meeting at 8:30 PM, and had an appointment to keep. For now, though, she could afford to enjoy the music.

Kat wished she could give the girl some change, but she had none. Her pockets were nearly always empty, and when they weren't, she gave what she had to her landlady. Still, Kat thought that perhaps just a human presence was enough payment; after all, if the girl sets up in a public place and receives no audience, she'd be disappointed. The music continued to caress her ears. It was sad, but beautiful. Happy, in comparison to the city, which was just sad. It was alive.
Last edited by Blizzard on Sun Jul 24, 2011 11:13 pm, edited 3 times in total.
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Re: Blurry Line [IC]

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby winged1107 on Fri Jul 22, 2011 11:35 pm

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Candy lounged on her oversized bed, her petite back propped up against the extremity of her wall. Her bare, overheated skin felt much cooler on the sleek wall, skin that still tingled pleasantly with a mix of contentment and bliss. Her eyes were half lidded from the intense sex she had just had and her chest heaved, trying with difficulty to breathe. Since when had the simple act of diffusion become so incredibly intricate? She didn't even bother to try and answer her pointless question, the same always happened when she was with Seth. Although it did leave her feeling sore, not a feeling she particularly enjoyed but she would just have to live with it, it was what he wanted.

"Don't you have a meeting or something?" She asked him, her voice playful and taunting; teasing him from the daunting task he had ahead of him. He had told her before their session that he needed to cut his usual time but he still needed her to cut out some stress about it. Candy couldn’t have given much less of a shit but she wanted to be alone. As much as she enjoyed the company of her clients, sometimes all she wanted to do was take a nice, cold shower to rinse away the evidence of what she had just done, much like she always did. Being a whore was fantastic for Candy but she still always felt dirty for a bit when another man left her room, some of them familiar and some of them strangers.

She just sighed and didn’t attempt to wave Seth goodbye, even after he threw a wad of cash on her naked body, the money landing on her left thigh before it teetered curiously and fell onto the bed sheets between her legs. She heard the door open and close and only then did she look down at the money, her cheap feeling soon gone. Without counting she could tell that the man had over tipped, much like he always did, a generous amount to top. She smiled and got off the bed, padding over to her shower to cleanse herself of the sweat her body had just produced as well as her smudged makeup. The water felt amazing on the welts and bruises on her body, Seth was one of the ones with the fetishes that only Candy knew, not even his wife. Extra cash here and there always ensured that no one found out about what happened when he told his wife that his meeting had only run late or he needed to prepare early for the day.

She smirked and stepped out of her shower, drying off quickly and dressing herself in a corset that showed her hipbones off nicely as well as shorts that shouldn’t have been really considered shorts. After brushing her teeth thoroughly to get the taste of Seth out of her mouth and running a comb through her hair she left her room, walking down to the dining hall. She didn’t really run into much of anyone although, if she concentrated hard enough, she could hear soft moaning from the well insulated rooms of the WhoreHouse. She merely giggled like a little girl at the moans, knowing that she was making her own only a few minutes ago. Candy pushed open the door to the Dining hall, noticing a few people here and there, eating and talking; some were even reading. She ignored the others and went up, grabbing herself an bacon and egg sandwich, knowing she needed calories for what she did. Besides, bacon was good and every proper breakfeast needed some, well, in her books at least.

She scarfed it quickly down her throat and left, soon finding her way outside of the WhoreHouse. She found herself happy that she had stuffed her cell inside of her corset, knowing the alarm would warn her of her next appointment, which wasn’t anytime soon if she recalled correctly. She found herself walking along a street, not noticing the direction she walked in until she looked up. She smiled at herself as she soon found her way to a somewhat familiar destination, the Doctors work place. She sauntered up to his door and walked inside, knowing that his doors would be unlocked just in case someone would need his medical attention in an emergency. He was a good man to care for others with practically no concern to himself, something that Candy would never really admit that she secretly looked up too. It wasn't her style, and after all, she was a villian.

"Virgil," She called out in a voice that she didn't bother adding sex appeal too, she was too tired from her previous sex to be flirting with him just this second. She walked over to his desk and sat down, the same place she always did just to annoy him, well, she hoped she was annoying him. Because the rough wood did prove to hurt her behind most of the time. She waited a few moments without him answering and she honestly wondered if he was there or not and she just shrugged. "Where are you Doc? I’ve been shot and I’m bleeding to death." Candy called out which was soon followed by a giggle, wondering if that statement would rush him if he were there. She doubted it because he knew her voice but still, it could always work.

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Re: Blurry Line [IC]

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Kurokiku on Sat Jul 23, 2011 12:55 am

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“You have a guest, love.” September did not respond to his voice; what he was telling her was obvious enough to her. Whether she would choose to acknowledge this fact was something that remained to be seen. Either way, nothing would occur until she was finished with her piece. She had enough pride as a musician to ensure that much. Under different circumstances, perhaps she would have become one, but this was not a world where people like herself had the luxury of choosing to chase such idle fancies as though they might grasp at them with fragile fingers and tug until they were close at hand. This was not a world where teenagers had the luxury of simply walking down the street and laughing at nothing, reveling in the company of their friends and experimenting with their half-adult faculties or each other, as the case may be.

This was the kind of world where you grew up and you grew strong, or you grew trees above your rotting corpse.

The last note faded solemnly from existence, and she set her instrument upon her lap, placing both palms delicately over the thing and finally looking up. He’d left a ten in her case, which was simply absurd. She deduced he either had money to burn or a distinct lack of judgement. Perhaps both. His coloration was odd, she decided. The bluish hair was obviously a dye job, and looked suited to the kinds of people you’d find at those rave events in parts of town she only frequented when and because she had to. He was even a little paler than she was, which was saying something.

September knew she was studying him more intently than was probably strictly in keeping with manners, but she couldn’t have cared less if she tried. It was all information to her, and information was never something she wanted for. Raising a brow mildly, she tilted her head briefly to indicate the fountain. “Unless you find standing more comfortable, you should sit if you wish to linger.” Despite the directness of her words, there was no edge to them, no unsubtle hint that he should leave. September had never been one to care what other people did, even if she wasn’t particularly fond of socializing with them. It was a public park, and she had no more right to the space than anyone else.

He looked displeased, glancing at the young man with a tight-lipped frown, and she could have rolled her eyes but didn’t. He was always disdainful of others, because she did not speak to him when they were around. For some reason, he found it hard to speak, too, as though the presence of the real made the illusory less perfect than he was when September could see nobody else.

It was at about this time that she caught movement from the corner of her eye, and glanced under a nearby tree to see that she was there again. It was kind of funny; that she showed up so often but never spoke. September had actually mistaken her for another conjuration at first, but upon the lightest of telepathic brushes, discovered precisely two things: that she was real, and that she did like the music. That was enough; she did not attempt to make a habit of such intrusions. She didn’t really wish to know the specifics of what people kept inside their heads. She knew the generalities, and it was enough to disgust her away from any more of the same.

Offering a slight nod in the woman’s direction, September sorted through her mental storage for another song. For some reason, she was inclined towards something a little less conventional and a little less melancholic this time. So be it. The fact that she played for an audience now, however small, was something she would have liked to say didn’t faze her in the slightest, but she was ever a creature of honesty, and she did decide to show off a little. It was funny, really. She didn't normally feel the need, but however subtle it was, it could be considered a bid for acceptance. A vulnerability. Even September only half-realized it, and she hoped this would remain veiled from outside perception.
Last edited by Kurokiku on Sat Jul 23, 2011 2:15 pm, edited 1 time in total.

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Re: Blurry Line [IC]

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Baby on Sat Jul 23, 2011 12:51 pm

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When Yoebe got out of the shower, she noticed a butler had not come in yet, meaning the guest had not come. She grabbed her iPhone and shot a text to twenty-three of her whores, just to check up on them. 'Good evening my wonderful whores. Just wanted to say how much I love you.' Three whores didn't get the text because they were about to get fired, Jeeves caught them lying about their payments, which was a big no-no. Yoebe paid them too much of the profits to be shorthanded by even one penny.

Two that did receive the text included Caramel and Candy, some of her top whores. Candy was the easiest of the two to talk to, not only because she seemed to like Yoebe more, but because her personality was generally warmer than Caramel's. Not that the difference would stop Yoebe from trying to talk to Caramel, he was still her whore and Yoebe wanted him to know her appreciation.

"Mistress Bixlow, the guest has arrived." Yoebe didn't even look back at the butler who came in and simply flicked her wrist, saying she would be right down. She was sipping the tea that Jeeves had left and replying to the texts that she got back already. Yoebe had the wonderful skill of multitasking, which she developed through her years as a prostitute, and in balancing texting and drinking tea, she had gotten ready in five minutes.

Yoebe had calmly walked down the stairs of mansion, passing by customers and maids, many giving a greeting which Yoebe returned sweetly. Yoebe finally got to the entrance hall, where James was waiting for her at the door. Tomalis James was her fastest butler/bodyguard, and though he slipped up last time, she decided to use him for her guest. "Don't disappoint me James. Or your punishment will last much longer." Yoebe warned. James only nodded in response and followed her outside, where her guest was waiting.

"Lucas." Yoebe called out, extending her hand to the man in less than formal clothing. She expected as much, though it was a meeting, the two were friends. Meeting up for the occasional sex of course, but now their friendship had been jeopardized over an incident that happened last week. And this meeting was going to see exactly where they stood.

"Let's make this quick." Yoebe said, taking Lucas hand in hers as they walked back into the mansion. Past the entrance hall, there where three corridors that led to numerous rooms. The one on the left, had three conference rooms. Yoebe took the closest one and entered, this one having just one red desk and three cream chairs. Yoebe sat in one, but she knew the two men accompanying her preferred to stand, so she didn't bother asking them to have a seat.

"Now Lucas, as we both know, you are the heir to your father's company, which produces weapons. I would like to offer my standing in the company. I'm willing to partially buy my way in, just as long as I'm in it so that I may use the weapons that are produced as I please. Does this work for you?" Yoebe asked. James had gotten the paper contract out with a red pen. The paper was partially blank, but the pen was filling in the details as Yoebe negotiated, another praise to technology. When they came to a deal, the pen would stop writing, and allow for the two to sign. Yoebe gave Lucas a moment to think and read the contract while she herself began replying to text messages. If Lucas didn't think the meeting was formal, why should she?
Last edited by Baby on Fri Jul 29, 2011 10:48 pm, edited 1 time in total.

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Re: Blurry Line [IC]

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Yonbibuns on Sat Jul 23, 2011 5:26 pm

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Wringing his hands nervously, Felix's carmine eyes lingered on the tumbling dusky locks framing her gentile, distraught countenance. He couldn't figure out why she was so frightened, nor how she'd suddenly beamed down from the Heaven's like Scotty. Was she some kind of illegal alien? His mouth formed a hard, white-line as he debated whether or not it would be proper to simply haul her over his slender shoulders and carry her back to the butcher's van or leave her trembling in the middle of the street. So poised in the insatiable paradigm of perfection, in such unconventionally unorganized world, Felix found a symmetrical beauty in the woman with the odd tattoo spindling across her thigh. Beloved – Beloved, what? Suddenly, she was an insatiable puzzle he needed to piece back together, to solve and challenge himself. She wasn't his, she wasn't. How tedious! Roaring horns blared as several vehicles hissed past them, barraging them with curse words and incoherent sentences. He didn't particularly care. They could wait all day because they didn't matter. They were mere insects buzzing across his earlobes; buzzing and buzzing until he felt the urge to tear them asunder. With his teeth. And now whomever this was, this Beloved character, met his leering gaze with moonlit eyes – without pupils, and guilty. Hadn't she been the one who'd almost been run down? If not for her monstrous strength. Wonderment danced in her pupiless oculars, reflecting the beaming lights and shadows surrounding them.

The woman repeated his exact words except in a far more alluring and sensual tone that he couldn't have ever mustered even if he tried. The type of erotic purr Candy, Yoebe or Caramel might've whispered against the concave of his neck – but of course, they'd never do that. There'd been a few occasions where he would've loved to dine on them, but he always had to contain his appetites. Felix always vaguely wondered whether or not his appetites were merely cannibalistic, or sexual in flavour. They might've been both, actually. How puzzling. “Strange woman,” the young man whispered, leaning forward and capturing her chin in his fingers, tipping it upwards. His fingernails were crusted with blood and whatever organ's he'd dug through to thoroughly disembowel his victims. Maybe this silver-haired rapture wasn't from around here? Perhaps, she didn't understand their language? So many questions, so little answers. It erupted a curiosity within him, kneading and gnawing at his mind's inner workings. Beloved rocked back on her heels, sitting down on the pavement with a sincere smile that directly contracted how she'd been feeling only moments ago. Immediately, decipherable words like bipolar, multiple personalities or schizophrenic caught on his tongue – words he might've heard from the Doctor. Virgil. Virgil. Virgil.

And then, the most unimaginable thing happened. The woman levitated from the asphalt and hovered in slow, methodical circles around him. Felix eyes widened into two ruby saucers and he blinked, once, twice, and gawked stupidly. His fingers had dropped from Beloved's chin, resting anxiously near his pocket. He was already picking at a piece of lint to distract himself from the thousands of questions bombarding his brain; he could never sort through them, it was impossible! A burly man approached, exercising his vulgarity and then halting to fully admire the woman's lovely physique. A tawdry, licking anger ignited in the pit of his stomach at all of the interruptions. There was nothing he wanted to do more than crush that man's oesophagus between his pearly teeth. “Shut up! Shut up!” The man's voice erupted into a snarl as he drew himself upwards, fingers cracking grotesquely in front of his lint-filled pockets.

His teeth clamped together, grinding. Muscles jumped along his jawline and temple like an erratic spasm, and Felix's unnaturally carmine eyes seethed with an unprovoked rage. His bulbous nose! His ugly, beady eyes. Everything about the unsymmetrical man – he hated him, he hated him! Why couldn't he shut his vulgar, hideous mouth? And better yet, why was he interrupting his conversation with nonsensical things? Felix advanced with the hunkering steps of a man whose intentions were entirely ill. His pulsing fingers shot forward like a rattle snake, covering the man's wide open mouth and curling around the left side of his face. He could feel the desperate, heated pants against his palm and shuddered. Sickness! Unhygienic infestation; alcohol and soap, one, two and three. One, two and three. His claws drummed tunelessly on his flesh, prodding and plucking and picking until the older man's eyes bulged.

“Get back in your damned car,” Felix calmly added, eying him steadily. “Now.” Without awaiting the man's answer, his fingers punctured the man's chin, drawing coppery blood and sucking at his sharpened, resin-caste nails. They didn't dip all the way, however. He could control himself that much, you see. Shoving the man backwards, Felix turned on his heels and grabbed Beloved's wrist, hauling her upwards and leading her towards a nearby alleyway. Virgil's office was nearby. Virgil would know what to do with this woman – because he certainly wasn't going to care for her! And he wasn't stupid enough to try and devour her.

“You... what's your name?” He asked heatedly, glancing towards the tattoo on her thigh. “Beloved? No, no. That's not a name.” While tugging the erstwhile woman behind him, Felix fished his cellphone from his pocket and quickly sent a message to the Doctor, indicating of his coming. He was always, always there. And he could wash his hands in the office. Those germs were probably multiplying, massing their cesspool into a colony. How sick. How tedious.

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Re: Blurry Line [IC]

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Soki on Sat Jul 23, 2011 5:35 pm

Lucas hadn't been waiting long before Yoebe's beautiful voice caught his ear, he smiled slightly as he took her hand. "It's good to see you again Yoebe.." He said in a calm voice. When she led him through the mansion to a conference room and took a seat he could only smile and watch her movements, it wasn't his fault it was something he liked to do. He straightened up though and leaned against a wall as he listened to her words. Lucas rubbed at his chin thoughtful, her offer was an easy one and he moved towards the desk resting both hands on it. "Yoebe, as per our agreement the week before, as well as with my father; you have no reason to buy your way in considering you are already very much considered a loyal friend to us, and our company.

Even though Lucas said that he had to look over the contract, it was just how he was raised. "I understand what you need, and I agree on the terms that your people that will be using our weapons be put through the necessary training for them; it will take a standard one to two weeks to get them proficient with some of our weapons, but we also produce normal everyday weapons." He said clearing his throat a little as he looked to her, then to James recognizing him from the situation of last week and offering a smile and laugh in his direction. "I personally guarantee the weapons will work, and you can order the standard amount any business partner, the whole sale service our own mass-produced weapons that we hold a patent for your allowed to buy up to, due to your business as it is five hundred, and each of them come with a mandatory training that will be needed. The regular weaponry you can buy as much as you please, and ammo can be, supplied; and will be on your first purchase of said weapon." He said calmly signing his name on the contract and placing it on the desk.

It was up to her now, if she liked the details of the standard contract with his and his father's company, or if she wanted more all she had to do was voice it, though Lucas owed her a great deal. He would not be able to do somethings due to this still being his father's company. "I hope this is agreeable, it is our best agreeable, and standard deal we make with any business partner, and all we ask is your continued support." He said with a nod of his head, returning to the wall he had previously been leaning against.

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Re: Blurry Line [IC]

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Medic on Sat Jul 23, 2011 6:34 pm

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It had been three years now for Virgil since he had first discovered his powers and during those three years he felt as if he had aged by at least ten. The joy he got from helping the hundreds, no thousands of people was unrivalled to any tiredness that he might feel. But while he may have the ability to heal basically any type of injury or illness he still required rest like any other ordinary human being but the day was just beginning and he had much to do…

“Virgil,” He heard his name being called out from his main office but it would have to wait a moment because he was still installing some new technology within examination room one. "Where are you Doc? I’ve been shot and I’m bleeding to death." This time the voice sounded slightly more serious and it forced him from his work as he stepped out of the small room and into the lobby which contained chairs and his desk and this time, Candy Lovee sitting on his desk in her usual fashion. Virgil still didn’t understand why she insisted on sitting right where all his paperwork was. But he had a few guesses and his main thought was that she enjoyed to annoy or toy with him.

“You don’t look to be shot and bleeding to death…” Virgil said as if he was surprised that Candy had lied to get his attention but he really wasn’t. So far she had visited his office quite a few times and each time she had never been very injured if hurt at all. ”So then what brings you he-“ Virgil had stopped mid sentence as his smart phone let out a loud beep and a short vibration alerting him to a text message he had received. ”Just a moment please Candy.” He requested in a way that it seemed like he wouldn’t check his phone if she didn’t want him too. But if he got a message he had to check it, after all he never knew who might be requesting his help.

Checking the phone he saw that he had received a text message from Felix Lacroix. A young man that he had recently been helping using a type of hypnosis and talk therapy. Virgil wasn't even qualified to do either but he found that he had been able to help Felix with what little knowledge he did have and if he could help someone he wasn't going to stop even if it was against the law. What would they do arrest a man who is constantly helping hundreds and thousands of people? I think not.


Felix Lacroix
342-987-4402
____________________________________________________________
Virgil. I found a strange woman, shes…different.
I’m bringing her to you. You will know what to do. Right?
Be there soon.
___________________________




After viewing the message Virgil couldn’t help but let an eyebrow arch in confusions and interest. “A strange woman? What does that mean?” He mumbled quietly to himself almost forgetting that Candy was even in the room. Sliding his phone back into a pocket in his white doctors coat he focused back on Candy.

”Sorry about that Candy. It appears a patient of mine has found someone who needs my help or something along those lines. Anyways, how are you today Candy? Dropping in for some sort of quick checkup again? You are using protection right?” It was obvious that Virgil was joking with her about her getting a checkup. After all a few times she had come describing how she felt sick and needed to be looked at, and in the end it just turned into Candy attempting to get him alone and nude. So far she had not succeeded.

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Re: Blurry Line [IC]

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby onetrickpony on Sun Jul 24, 2011 11:27 pm

Vermuse


Vermuse was idly scrubbing his hands with pink hand soap in the men's bathroom, slowly rubbing his fingers through each other and allowing for a nice lather to appear. He kept his eyes down, on his hands, focusing intently as if he were performing an important surgery. He needed his hands to be extra clean now that he worked in the medical arena, the new receptionist for Dr. Virgil. It was big break for him, and he didn't want to fuck it up, especially over something as stupid as hygiene. He scrubbed carefully, mouth slightly agape, even examining beneath his nails for any grime. They seemed squeaky clean, pale and soft. He peered at himself in the mirror to check for any remnants of his lunch in his goatee. Nope, nothing to be seen but an immaculately groomed and painfully attractive facial hair. It wasn't normally so groomed, but he wanted to make a great impression on the doctor. The rest of his face was very smooth, the marks of a few nicks near his jaw--also uncharacteristic for the trekkie who almost always had a bit of scruff. He had even trimmed his eyebrows. He moved his attention to his teeth, checking for bits of spinach or cilantro trying to ruin his life.

He hadn't been in there long when he heard the front door open with a clang and an unfamiliar voice, though the voice seemed to be familiar with the office. He instantly grew nervous, and his motions became panicked and quick. He ran water over his hands, allowing it to run through and around his fingers as if he were playing with a mouse, rinsing them excessively as he figured out the best course of action.
"Ooooh boy, this will awkward," he whined to himself in the mirror, small eyes worried. "Yea, uh, I was just in the bathroom, you know…using it," he practiced to himself uncertainly.
But Oh. Oh good, the doctor was speaking with her. Their voices were muffled by the door and the sound of running water. He couldn't make out what they were saying, but at least she wasn't entirely his responsibility anymore.
He caught his breath, drying his hands slowly and thoroughly on some paper towels before disposing of them neatly in the trash. He opened the door casually, peeking his head out first, staring down the hallway. No one appeared to be in the waiting room--the voices were coming from by the desks. He flinched, wondering if he would get in trouble for allowing the woman back there. He slowly shuffled down the hall, craning his neck for the first glimpses of either of the voices. The door shut automatically behind him and he paused. They seemed uninterrupted by the sound. He continued creeping along. He was no ninja, but he tried with all his might to be in this moment. Sweat was appearing on his brow.
'This is dumb, this is really dumb,' he scolded himself, 'dumb and childish.'
He gave up on his stealth routine and tried for a casual one instead. Smoothing his black star trek shirt (this one sported a Spocktapus… a graphic design of Spock with tentacles…one of his favorites) with a white button up shirt over it, though unbuttoned so the design could still be seen. He exhaled his negative energy and waddled over to his desk, eyeing the Doctor and Candy cautiously. Nope…negative energy still there. The queasiness in his pudgy stomach confirmed it.
"Oh hello!" He chimed brightly, voice a bit higher that usual, waving a quick hand at Candy.
He wracked his brain for the greeting he was supposed to give, stammering over half-formed words.
"Uh, yes, oh, hrmmm," he started, face alternating expressions from warm and welcoming to concerned before they even solidified, "and, yes… uhm, do you…uh…yes, do you have an appointment?"
He rocked back and forth from his heel to his toe, swinging his arms beside him. "Hmm?" he wheezed, lifting an uncertain chin.
Carpe diem bitches.

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Re: Blurry Line [IC]

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Blizzard on Mon Jul 25, 2011 1:43 am

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Kat had been staring at the girl, until she glanced back. Heart skipping a beat, she quickly looked away and pretended she hadn't been staring. She waited a few seconds before glancing back, in time to catch the girl nodding to her. At first, Kat froze, not knowing what to do, but when the girl started playing her next song, she loosened up and slowly made her way over. She sat on the lip of the fountain, a few feet from the violinist, but dared not look at her, instead keeping her eyes on the sky.

As the girl played, Kat smiled a bit, but she didn't know why. She recognized the song from somewhere, but couldn't quite recall; it would go on to bug her all night. She sat and listened as the sky darkened, the upbeat music contrasting the slow, rhythmic flow of the city. Kat felt a chill as the wind flared up for a second. As the girl came to a close, Kat stood, realizing she'd lingered too long.

"Uhm." Kat mumbled, still looking away from the girl. "You're...very talented." She stood around for a moment in silence, thinking. "..Right." Her voice trailed off as she glanced back at the girl, meeting her eyes, before she started to walk off.

A few minutes later, she was standing in front of an abandoned apartment building. She walked to the door and looked around before kicking it in. Entering, she was cautious to check her corners, making sure no one was inside. She located a suitable room, and reached in her bag to pull out her things. She quickly got dressed, and finally held her mask in her hands. Taking a moment to savor the feeling of the fabric in her hands, Kat closed her eyes. Pulling the mask over her head, she breathed out, and it was Pulse's eyes that opened. Viewing the room through her mask, she suddenly felt herself. In a rush, her confidence and strength flooded back into her. She paused only for a moment, because the night was still young.

"Hmph". Clearing her throat, she began to speak to the empty room. "Free from doubt. From pain. From lust. Free from fear." Her low growl echoed off the empty walls and she felt her pulse pick up. Her body knew what was coming, and prepared for it. She packed her clothes in her bag and placed her hat on the top of her head. Leaving out the back door, she dropped her bag off just on the inside of the building. She looked up at the sky, no longer bright, but not yet dark. She estimated the time at 8:00.

It took her less than twenty-five minutes to traverse the urban labyrinth to her destination; an abandoned warehouse. When she arrived, she cased the building for a moment, to make sure it contained no surprises. After five minutes of waiting, her targets all arrived, in three separate cars. She counted nine total, and in her head began running through suppression tactics. Most if not all of them were armed, and all she had was a switchblade and a grappling hook.

She made her way around to the back of the building, and kicked in a back door. Inside, she noted the shipping crates, arranged to form a dense metal jungle. It was likely that the mobsters were having a meeting in the center. She ran along the edge until she found the fuses for the entire building. Without a word, she cut the power, plunging the entire building into blackness. In the distance, she heard shouting, and saw a couple of flashlight beams light up towards the ceiling before being brought down.

Without second thought, Kat ran towards the nearest crate and took a solid step on it, propelling herself high enough to grasp the top and pull herself up. Now above the crates, she could see where all the men were. They had spread out, into four groups of two, with the boss remaining at the center. Kat made her way across, and hopped down into a dark corner. Two men were approaching. As they passed, their flashlights illuminated Pulse's mask, but they didn't notice. She stepped from out of the shadows, silently, behind them. Kat had become adept at moving silently, and she matched her footsteps to theirs perfectly, blending in.

In a fluid motion, she approached the man in the rear and reached up to grasp his gun, her other hand covering his mouth. She pulled the trigger, killing the man in front with a loud bang before he could turn around, and then ripped her other hand back, snapping her hostages neck. She held on to the gun for good measure. She heard more shouting on the other side of a crate. Without hesitation, Kat ran and climbed the box, rolling on the top, and falling off onto the man on the other side. He dropped his flashlight and it lay on the ground, highlighting his face. She reached back and fired, hitting the man's partner square in the chest. The man below her had terror in his eyes. She brought the butt of the gun into his nose, sending the bone into his brain, and killing him. She heard the other two groups approaching on each side of her. She reached down and picked up a second gun.

Picking a direction, she charged towards the group and up on sight, opened fire. She dropped the two in front of her before they could fire, but she heard a shot from behind, and felt a sharp heat pass through her lower calf. Twisting while falling, she dropped the empty gun and fired the last two rounds back at her attackers, hitting them both in the jaw. Beneath her mask, she gritted her teeth in pain, but after a moment, shrugged it off. She'd only been grazed. Getting up she followed the path in between the crates to the center. She peered around the corner. The leader of this group stood alone, a flashlight in one hand and a sword in the other; a katana.

A sword? Odd. Why not a gun? Perhaps has powers. No mask though. Likely minor. She stepped out into his line of site. His flashlight pointed at her. It would have been blinding, but her mask dulled the light.

"W-w-who are you?" The man demanded. His Asian accent was strong. "B-back off!" Kat started towards him. She walked with purpose, with a menace that not many men could handle. "I'm not fucking with you, man. Back the fuck off! You did me a favor, gettin' rid of those shit-heads! We can be friends!" Kat flinched lightly under her mask. She'd always been uncomfortable with swearing, which she attributed to her mother's abuse as well as her upbringing in a christian orphanage. She kept walking towards him.

"Not friends with vermin." Before Kat had finished, she began an uppercut at him. He blocked with his arm but winced in pain in respond to Kat's strength, which caused his wrist to fracture. With his right hand, he brought his sword in at her side. Kat raised her left hand and grabbed his other wrist, flinging him to the side.

"Christ you're strong!" He shouted at her as he scrambled to his feet. Ran at him, diving as he brought his sword across and taking him out in the legs. The sword made a clank as it dropped to the ground. Both of them managed to climb to their feet, and he began to swing at her. He was more skilled than he looked at hand to hand combat, and Kat had to take a moment to warm up before being able to best him. Regardless, after a few minutes of trading blows, Kat managed to grab him by the collar and throw him behind her. As she turned around, she felt his blade run through her stomach. Pain shot throughout her body. In a second motion, he brough the sword out her side, tearing a noticeable amount of flesh off. Her head cleared and adrenaline began pumping. After a second of staring, she kicked up, catching him in the groin. As he cringed, she approached, grabbed his sword, and brought it into him, piercing his lungs. Within seconds he was dead.

Wooziness setting in, she made her way to the front door. It was dark out now. The streetlights turned the city into a orange and blue canvas. Underneath her mask, she let out a breath, and she clung to her sides. She needed to reach the doctor, and soon.
Last edited by Blizzard on Mon Jul 25, 2011 9:55 pm, edited 1 time in total.

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Re: Blurry Line [IC]

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Unicorn Luv on Mon Jul 25, 2011 12:47 pm

For perhaps the first time, Beloved witnessed anger. Her new muse became loud and grabbed the new being that came up to them, his voice furious, a tone that made Beloved uneasy. She covered her ears but stood watching, her face a mixture of worry and attention. Her muse's hand gripped and squeezed a red substance from his skin, her eyes zoomed in on it and studied the color and consistency. The red was on Savage's apron, the red had been all over the broken ones she had first seen, and now the red was coming from this man's face.

Her hands dragged down to her own cheeks, rubbing at them and wondering if the same red was inside of her. She crouched slightly, still uneasy at the tone and sudden pressure she felt in the air. For that very reason she had failed to repeat the sounds they were making, and simply stayed quiet until Savage rounded on her and took her wrist. Touch was an amazing thing, and he didn't even need to tug at her to get her to move. She started to grin at his hand as she glided behind him, walking on tip toe ever so slightly and feeling the sensation. His hands were warm, slightly wet with sweat, but her lack on knowledge at this produced no aversion to being touched by Savage's hand. "Beloved, Beloved, Beloved. Name!" She said nonchalantly, no meaning in her words, but her sing song voice still repeated them as they they did have meaning. Her worries were gone once more, though Savage's face looked annoyed and tense. He led her to an alley, which she found grand, absolutely grand. As shown by her wandering head and eyes. And took her into an office. "Whoosh!" she made the noise she was accustomed to hearing when a 'door' opened. The noise it actually made however was very different.

She stared at the door, body twisting to look at it she made a face at it, pursing her lips in confusion now, but cared for only a moment. During their walk Beloved had grabbed a hold of Savage's wrist too, and had a soft but iron firm grip on it, as he would find out when he tried to get away.

The sound of voices and new faces made her turn around, her bright smile at the new wonders produced boldness, and she practically danced forward, dragging Savage by the wrist with her. The first person whose space she invaded was Candy's, and beloved very close to her face for a brief second before retracting, apparently having seen enough, and moving, well gliding, over to look at Vermuse intently. Her seemed to fascinate her more, her eyes traveled up and down his clothes, resting on his chin with hair, her lack of manners showed by the way she suddenly blurted, "You might get hit by a car..." only repeating what she had heard earlier as a form of greeting. She seemed pleased with herself however.

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