Introduction
Nosferatu! Does the name not sound like the angel of death calling your name in the darkest hour of the night? Beware you do not say it when night overtakes us, for that will invite it upon you. Your dreams will turn to nightmares, and phantoms will crawl forth from the night and feed upon your blood.
You might dismiss what I say as nonsense. Many have with no consequence. It is possible to live your whole life without seeing a vampire, the same way it is possible to live your whole life without seeing a powerful predator in its habitat. But when you see it, you will know it is real. That is what has happened to your town, the crossroad town of Pierreton, Wisconsin. A vampire has struck! Perhaps it has killed one of your loved ones. Perhaps it has killed more than one. Perhaps you simply want the death to end. Either way, a group of you have banded together, ready to kill the vampire.
Your hunt may take you far from your home. It may cost you dearly. But if you can save Pierreton from the Vampire, it will be worth it.
Breaking character...
This RP, as you might surmise, is about a vampire hunt, as in the novel Dracula. In this RP the vampire will be similar to older depictions of a ruthless yet tragic monster. We will be averting some notorious modern vampire tropes in this, which I will be happy to go into if enough people want me to. However, I have a preference to keep the vampire's exact nature a secret for now, so you will learn about it with your characters. But again, this isn't set in stone.
Though this is nominally a horror RP, I would love to see all kinds of character development going on. Make interesting characters, submit them, and let's get rolling!
Character Skeleton:
You might dismiss what I say as nonsense. Many have with no consequence. It is possible to live your whole life without seeing a vampire, the same way it is possible to live your whole life without seeing a powerful predator in its habitat. But when you see it, you will know it is real. That is what has happened to your town, the crossroad town of Pierreton, Wisconsin. A vampire has struck! Perhaps it has killed one of your loved ones. Perhaps it has killed more than one. Perhaps you simply want the death to end. Either way, a group of you have banded together, ready to kill the vampire.
Your hunt may take you far from your home. It may cost you dearly. But if you can save Pierreton from the Vampire, it will be worth it.
Breaking character...
This RP, as you might surmise, is about a vampire hunt, as in the novel Dracula. In this RP the vampire will be similar to older depictions of a ruthless yet tragic monster. We will be averting some notorious modern vampire tropes in this, which I will be happy to go into if enough people want me to. However, I have a preference to keep the vampire's exact nature a secret for now, so you will learn about it with your characters. But again, this isn't set in stone.
Though this is nominally a horror RP, I would love to see all kinds of character development going on. Make interesting characters, submit them, and let's get rolling!
Character Skeleton:
- Code: Select all
[b]Full Name:[/b] (Character's full name including embarrassing names. Preferred name should be in the "name" slot; ex "Edward Johnson" who prefers to go by "Ed" would have "Ed Johnson" in the permanent "name" slot, and "Edward Johnson" here.)
[b]Age:[/b] (no hard limits, but I'd prefer high school age minimum)
[b]Occupation:[/b]
[b]Height and Weight:[/b]
[b]Physical Appearance:[/b] (Photos are preferred but not required if you prefer describing with words. Realistic drawings are allowed and not required. Animesque or otherwise unrealistic drawings are not allowed.)
[b]Clothing:[/b] (This can tell a lot about a character.)
[b]Personality:[/b] (The importance of this part cannot be overstated. This dictates how the character interacts. At least a good paragraph, please. Include character tics like an accent, a stammer, etc.)
[b]Favourite Colour:[/b] (self-explanatory)
[b]Biography:[/b] (This is also very important. Describe your character's childhood, their adolescence, etc, leading up to when the RP starts. Try to be specific unless the character would not reveal a given piece of information. About a paragraph or two.)
- 19 posts here • Page 1 of 1
The Story So Far... Write a Post » as written by 5 authors
Tuesday, 3 September 2013
Pierreton Community College, Clemens Building, Room 221; 10:00 AM
History of Western Civilization, Part I
From the name alone, Philip Harding predicted that attendance would be lacking in this class. After all, as a general education, it was virtually bound by law to be like the bed of a river in a droughty land: shallow, dry, and largely pointless. He was not inclined to blame students who came infrequently to this class, as many of them had learned its material several times over in secondary school. He remembered learning it at least twice, then writing a bachelor's thesis about part of it. Then, after Slovakia, after Diane, he had taught it for decades. He was bored sick of it. He didn't blame those who were also bored of it.
That said, it still irritated him. He was more lenient about absences in this class than in some others, but he had about as much personal tolerance for it. A perpetually absent student would not get much sympathy if his grades fell behind.
Thus, a note of dry pleasure crept into Harding's voice as he finished calling roll and began his professor's spiel. "This is not a common occurrence, for every person to be in class on time. I don't expect you all to be able to manage this for every class, as accidents happen, but I do not suffer chronic abuse of the attendance policy lightly. I expect, in this class, that at 10 o'clock AM you will be in your seat and ready to take notes. Not just walking in, not just sitting down, not just leaving your car. In here, seated, and ready. This is not an 8 AM; getting here is not that difficult.
"Now, with that out of the way, permit me to introduce myself. I am Dr. Philip Harding. I graduated from William and Mary in nineteen sixty-seven, and earned my master's degree from the same in nineteen seventy. I earned my doctorate from the University of Virginia in nineteen seventy-five. I have worked both abroad and in the United States in cultural history, anthropology, and desk jobs. I have taught at Pierreton Community College for thirty years now. The wheelchair," he continued, tapping it affectionately, "is about a year old, though I've used a manual since '83. Don't ask how I came to need it." He relaxed, realizing he had tensed slightly during the last sentence. "Enough about me. Let us get down to the meat of this class."
———————————————————
Overall, the class seemed to have gone well, he later reflected as he wheeled out of the classroom and down the emptying hallways. Now was time to grab a newspaper and eat lunch. He passed the small stack of papers, and grabbed the only paper he cared about, The Pierreton Tablet. A clever pun, and a well-run paper at that. Without looking at it, he laid it in his lap before he wheeled off to his office.
Inside, he placed the paper on his desk, opened the lunch he had boxed the night before, and laid out the items of it. Taking the BLT sandwich in hand, he leaned back in his wheelchair and took a bite, then picked up the paper and finally read it. The front story surprised him.
EMPTY TRUCK FOUND WITH STRANGE CARGO
A box truck was found early this morning near the Pierreton Estate Services with seven casket-sized sealed crates and no driver. Police say the license plate was from Pennsylvania, number AXY-2279. The driver was nowhere to be found, but the delivery documents were still in the truck. Police have declined to release the documents, citing that they contain personal information.
Harding sighed. An interesting morning, indeed.
Pierreton Community College, Clemens Building, Room 221; 10:00 AM
History of Western Civilization, Part I
From the name alone, Philip Harding predicted that attendance would be lacking in this class. After all, as a general education, it was virtually bound by law to be like the bed of a river in a droughty land: shallow, dry, and largely pointless. He was not inclined to blame students who came infrequently to this class, as many of them had learned its material several times over in secondary school. He remembered learning it at least twice, then writing a bachelor's thesis about part of it. Then, after Slovakia, after Diane, he had taught it for decades. He was bored sick of it. He didn't blame those who were also bored of it.
That said, it still irritated him. He was more lenient about absences in this class than in some others, but he had about as much personal tolerance for it. A perpetually absent student would not get much sympathy if his grades fell behind.
Thus, a note of dry pleasure crept into Harding's voice as he finished calling roll and began his professor's spiel. "This is not a common occurrence, for every person to be in class on time. I don't expect you all to be able to manage this for every class, as accidents happen, but I do not suffer chronic abuse of the attendance policy lightly. I expect, in this class, that at 10 o'clock AM you will be in your seat and ready to take notes. Not just walking in, not just sitting down, not just leaving your car. In here, seated, and ready. This is not an 8 AM; getting here is not that difficult.
"Now, with that out of the way, permit me to introduce myself. I am Dr. Philip Harding. I graduated from William and Mary in nineteen sixty-seven, and earned my master's degree from the same in nineteen seventy. I earned my doctorate from the University of Virginia in nineteen seventy-five. I have worked both abroad and in the United States in cultural history, anthropology, and desk jobs. I have taught at Pierreton Community College for thirty years now. The wheelchair," he continued, tapping it affectionately, "is about a year old, though I've used a manual since '83. Don't ask how I came to need it." He relaxed, realizing he had tensed slightly during the last sentence. "Enough about me. Let us get down to the meat of this class."
———————————————————
Overall, the class seemed to have gone well, he later reflected as he wheeled out of the classroom and down the emptying hallways. Now was time to grab a newspaper and eat lunch. He passed the small stack of papers, and grabbed the only paper he cared about, The Pierreton Tablet. A clever pun, and a well-run paper at that. Without looking at it, he laid it in his lap before he wheeled off to his office.
Inside, he placed the paper on his desk, opened the lunch he had boxed the night before, and laid out the items of it. Taking the BLT sandwich in hand, he leaned back in his wheelchair and took a bite, then picked up the paper and finally read it. The front story surprised him.
EMPTY TRUCK FOUND WITH STRANGE CARGO
A box truck was found early this morning near the Pierreton Estate Services with seven casket-sized sealed crates and no driver. Police say the license plate was from Pennsylvania, number AXY-2279. The driver was nowhere to be found, but the delivery documents were still in the truck. Police have declined to release the documents, citing that they contain personal information.
Harding sighed. An interesting morning, indeed.
”Selene Secrets” The Old Bookstore, Around Noon
Last night was terrible. Every two hours, Nevaeh Selene, woke up from her sleep. It was a routine now for every other night, and it started ever since she read that damn book about creatures of the night. Interesting dreams came from reading before bed and she should have known better. She tried her best to drink tea or warm milk to fall into a deep slumber, but nothing seemed to work.
It was safe to say that now she had hardly any sleep and she was paying for it in energy and snippy attitude. Her grandfather spent a lot of time in his office or at home, which allowed Nevaeh to work alone and avoid any confrontations. The bookstore was somewhat large in size, two stories. The first floor was surrounded in books of all sizes, mostly on the ancient myths and stories of old legends. Shelves and cases about the room were covered in old candles and incense, charms and potions that were said to fend off harmful spirits and curses. Of course, near the counter toward the stairs, is where she kept the cash register and her personal journal (under the desk).
Nevaeh was dressed properly for her shift, a brown tank top and a pinkish skirt to fit. Her hair was pulled back into a clip and she wore flat slippers for shoes. People came and gone. Some stayed for awhile, to preview one of the books, while others roamed about the charms and spells. Some would make jokes, and some woud actually show interest and comment about how a spell would work or how old it was. Nevaeh stood on one of the short ladders, putting away one the last book out of place.
“What’s with the bulletin board?” A voice was heard and Nevaeh turned her gaze toward the young girl at the counter. She was staring at an old, worn down bulletin board on the wall. Several pictures, columns, artifacts and notes were pinned to it. By first glance, no one would assume it had a purpose larger than just reminders, but studied it even more so, one would realize that it was Steven Steele's work. She was his number one fan and always will be. She researched him. She found him fascinating and loved to hear more stories.
“It's Steven Steele. Have you read his work?” Her customer looked at her funny but then back at the clippings.
“no, I haven't. I don’t get it. Why do you have all these?” The girl indicated the board with her hand.
“I love his work. It’s very passionate and he writes a lot about the same thing this store provides.” Nevaeh answered, climbing down the rest of the ladder.
“Have you ever spoken to him? Ever emailed him? Write him?”
“Well...several times. I told him he should come by the bookstore, but he's never replied. I think he's just busy with work and all.”
“Well. Weird.”
“I suppose it is kind of weird..." She smiled, moving behind the counter. She watched the girl shrug and head out of the store. “Have a good day! “She called. No one really understood Nevaeh’s personality, but she didn’t care. It made her unique.
Last night was terrible. Every two hours, Nevaeh Selene, woke up from her sleep. It was a routine now for every other night, and it started ever since she read that damn book about creatures of the night. Interesting dreams came from reading before bed and she should have known better. She tried her best to drink tea or warm milk to fall into a deep slumber, but nothing seemed to work.
It was safe to say that now she had hardly any sleep and she was paying for it in energy and snippy attitude. Her grandfather spent a lot of time in his office or at home, which allowed Nevaeh to work alone and avoid any confrontations. The bookstore was somewhat large in size, two stories. The first floor was surrounded in books of all sizes, mostly on the ancient myths and stories of old legends. Shelves and cases about the room were covered in old candles and incense, charms and potions that were said to fend off harmful spirits and curses. Of course, near the counter toward the stairs, is where she kept the cash register and her personal journal (under the desk).
Nevaeh was dressed properly for her shift, a brown tank top and a pinkish skirt to fit. Her hair was pulled back into a clip and she wore flat slippers for shoes. People came and gone. Some stayed for awhile, to preview one of the books, while others roamed about the charms and spells. Some would make jokes, and some woud actually show interest and comment about how a spell would work or how old it was. Nevaeh stood on one of the short ladders, putting away one the last book out of place.
“What’s with the bulletin board?” A voice was heard and Nevaeh turned her gaze toward the young girl at the counter. She was staring at an old, worn down bulletin board on the wall. Several pictures, columns, artifacts and notes were pinned to it. By first glance, no one would assume it had a purpose larger than just reminders, but studied it even more so, one would realize that it was Steven Steele's work. She was his number one fan and always will be. She researched him. She found him fascinating and loved to hear more stories.
“It's Steven Steele. Have you read his work?” Her customer looked at her funny but then back at the clippings.
“no, I haven't. I don’t get it. Why do you have all these?” The girl indicated the board with her hand.
“I love his work. It’s very passionate and he writes a lot about the same thing this store provides.” Nevaeh answered, climbing down the rest of the ladder.
“Have you ever spoken to him? Ever emailed him? Write him?”
“Well...several times. I told him he should come by the bookstore, but he's never replied. I think he's just busy with work and all.”
“Well. Weird.”
“I suppose it is kind of weird..." She smiled, moving behind the counter. She watched the girl shrug and head out of the store. “Have a good day! “She called. No one really understood Nevaeh’s personality, but she didn’t care. It made her unique.
Pierreton Community College Campus, 12:30 pm
Xandy sat outside, skimming over a neurology book, croissant in hand. She rolled her eyes as she read over material that she'd learned years ago. She wondered why she hadn't gone to Yale or Wisconsin University, but then she remembered that they wouldn't take her because she was "too young". She adjusted her cardigan and took a bite of her lunch, rereading the textbook. As she sat, she heard two older girls walking past, talking about a class that they had just taken.
"Isn't Dr. Harding just brilliant, Sara?" the blonde one said.
"Kerrie, you've been gushing about him for the past 7 minutes," the redhead said.
Xandy looked up. She'd heard about Dr. Harding quite often, but she'd never taken any of his classes before. He taught about the history of Western Civilization, a class she'd never bothered to sign up for. She realized that she needed a book by Preston and Shapiro, and stood up, polishing off the last of her meager lunch. She grabbed her bag and headed to the nearby bookstore, "Selene Secrets".
About halfway there, she realized that she should have taken into account the wind when she was getting ready- her sheer white blouse, dark jeans, brown combat boots, and navy blue cardigan provided little protection from the wind. Her hair whipped around her face as she walked briskly to the bookstore.
She entered the old bookstore, breathing in the smell of books. She looked at the salesgirl, who was busy with another customer at the bulletin board. Xandy looked over the shelves, looking for Preston and Shapiro Electromyography and Neuromuscular Disorders but failing. She walked back over to the saleswoman.
"Excuse me, I was wondering if you had a book in stock?" she inquired.
Xandy sat outside, skimming over a neurology book, croissant in hand. She rolled her eyes as she read over material that she'd learned years ago. She wondered why she hadn't gone to Yale or Wisconsin University, but then she remembered that they wouldn't take her because she was "too young". She adjusted her cardigan and took a bite of her lunch, rereading the textbook. As she sat, she heard two older girls walking past, talking about a class that they had just taken.
"Isn't Dr. Harding just brilliant, Sara?" the blonde one said.
"Kerrie, you've been gushing about him for the past 7 minutes," the redhead said.
Xandy looked up. She'd heard about Dr. Harding quite often, but she'd never taken any of his classes before. He taught about the history of Western Civilization, a class she'd never bothered to sign up for. She realized that she needed a book by Preston and Shapiro, and stood up, polishing off the last of her meager lunch. She grabbed her bag and headed to the nearby bookstore, "Selene Secrets".
About halfway there, she realized that she should have taken into account the wind when she was getting ready- her sheer white blouse, dark jeans, brown combat boots, and navy blue cardigan provided little protection from the wind. Her hair whipped around her face as she walked briskly to the bookstore.
She entered the old bookstore, breathing in the smell of books. She looked at the salesgirl, who was busy with another customer at the bulletin board. Xandy looked over the shelves, looking for Preston and Shapiro Electromyography and Neuromuscular Disorders but failing. She walked back over to the saleswoman.
"Excuse me, I was wondering if you had a book in stock?" she inquired.
There was something about Tuesdays that Maiko Nakani-Maisuradze really fucking hated.
Maybe, she mused listlessly as she crossed the campus of the Pierreton Community College, maybe it was because Tuesday, inevitably, no matter what, came after Monday. Or maybe, corollarily, it was precisely because it succeeded Monday, the day the weekly grind of school and work resumed in full force. That was bad enough. Tuesday was just a reminder that the week wasn't even halfway over with.
Or fuck it, maybe it was just because Tuesday was just another day in a long, dull, dreary, eternally discontent existence. What more reason did there have to be?
Whatever. She wasn't gonna dwell on it. She had a destination in mind, and her body language was that of intent, the forward lean of her considerable stature contributing largely to that impression. On the way, every now and then, some imbecile would disentangle themselves from the writhing mass of nondescript flesh that comprised the student body of this hole in the middle of Fucking Nowhere, Wisconsin-- would approach Maiko, start flapping their lips about the typical inane bullshit. The consequences, one supposed, of being generally well-liked in a small town by people she ardently wished would die of a brain haemorrhage.
"Omigod, Maiko, you won't believe who I saw the other day!" one would gush joyously, as though what was to follow was going to completely rock the foundations of Maiko's existence. "Yes I will," she wanted to reply flatly. "Of course I'll believe who you saw the other day. In fact, you know what, don't tell me, I don't care. Unless you're about to tell me you saw Josef Stalin, Michael Faraday, and Ötzi the Iceman sitting out by the coffee shop discussing interface ontology, I don't give a shit. Also, it's my-ko, not 'may-ko'. Does it take any effort on your part to act like you have the IQ of a block of stale cheese, or is it something that comes naturally to you?"
She coulda said that, but she knew better than to be so open and honest if she really didn't have to, even if sometimes she almost wished she could be the kind of person to give a shit about that kind of bullshit. Instead, her high features lit up with a statuesque smile, a quality of genuine interest kindled in her green eyes, and, in a fabrication of amicability on par with a base, vile con-man's flawless reproduction of the most beautiful depictions of nature by Monet, she replied, "Well, don't keep me guessing. Who'd you see the other day?" And, lo and behold, their answer was, of course, something so utterly irrelevant that even Maiko, having steeled herself mentally to be subjected to something she couldn't bring herself to care about if she honestly, earnestly tried, was taken aback by how incredibly inane it was. "What a coincidence," she remarked with a light laugh, hoping with all her heart that, in the span of about a second, a mass of cumulonimbus clouds would form overhead, kick up a storm, and direct a stray lightning bolt right at the degenerate who honestly thought Maiko needed to hear about who they'd seen the other day.
Failing that, Maiko offered up some brief, equally asinine small talk, and then extracted herself from the idiot's presence, mentioning that she had to stop by someplace before work. And thus, following yet another dull encounter with another dull creature, just another drop of water in a vast, dull ocean, Maiko was off again, the soles of her boots crunching steadily against loose gravel, the chains hanging from her jeans clanking mechanically against one another and against the copper bullet casings that lined her belt; a white cord, in stark contrast against the general black of her leather jacket, snaked it from one of her pockets, splitting into two headphones buried in each ear, dutifully pumping blissful music directly into Maiko's brain.
Before long, Maiko was free of the campus, and heading a ways into the town itself-- though, small town like this, the college was just about all it had goin' for it. Certainly, it offered much of whatever this town had. And yet, in this case, Maiko found herself venturing beyond its borders. The campus bookstore at which she made enough of a paycheck to get by, for once, did not have what she was looking for (and, in a way, rightly so-- the shelves of the school bookstore were generally reserved for things that mattered)-- lacked resources on Maiko's latest thread of interest. For that reason was it that she found herself, then, shortly before she was due at the campus bookstore, in a decrepit old hole of a bookstore called Selene's Secrets.
Shit, by the name, you woulda thought the place sold perfumes, or lingerie, or some shit like that.
But no. It was, in fact, an establishment that specialised primarily in shit like curses, vampires, werewolves-- not even really the occult, or mysticism. She was pretty sure they were only there to make some easy cash on the kind of idiots who really, honestly thought werewolves or whatever were real and thought they could get some credible information from the books this place sold. As for Maiko? She was only here to fuel her latest passing fancy. After all, anybody knew vampires and witches were bullshit, but that didn't mean it couldn't be minutely amusing to read about them.
Upon entry, Maiko was assailed with the scent of incense drifting throughout the bookstore-- meh. Probably to add some kind of mystical atmosphere or whatever. If the incense bothered her, then as usual, it didn't show: Maiko merely directed a cordial grin towards the lady at the counter, and made to go about her business.
"Excuse me," Maiko heard someone say from the counter as she walked by. "I was wondering if you have Preston and Shapiro's 'Electromyography and Neuromuscular Disorders' in stock?"
Maiko probably wasn't gonna say anything about it until the lady at the counter mentioned that they didn't have it, which made sense, because this was where you came for shit about vampires, not for actual information. At that, however, Maiko did what she figured she was, of course, supposed to do in that situation; she turned to the woman in question-- she looked vaguely familiar to Maiko, probably went to the college, they all looked the same to her. "s'cuse me," she interjected politely. "But if you're looking for that book, we should have it in stock back at the campus bookstore. Feel free to drop by there anytime to pick it up." She punctuated it with a brief but friendly sort of smile-- y'know, the kind you were supposed to give when you acted all nice to people. At least, as far as Maiko had gathered.
((Had permission from xRoo for the bit of Neveah telling Xandy they don't have the book in question.))
Maybe, she mused listlessly as she crossed the campus of the Pierreton Community College, maybe it was because Tuesday, inevitably, no matter what, came after Monday. Or maybe, corollarily, it was precisely because it succeeded Monday, the day the weekly grind of school and work resumed in full force. That was bad enough. Tuesday was just a reminder that the week wasn't even halfway over with.
Or fuck it, maybe it was just because Tuesday was just another day in a long, dull, dreary, eternally discontent existence. What more reason did there have to be?
Whatever. She wasn't gonna dwell on it. She had a destination in mind, and her body language was that of intent, the forward lean of her considerable stature contributing largely to that impression. On the way, every now and then, some imbecile would disentangle themselves from the writhing mass of nondescript flesh that comprised the student body of this hole in the middle of Fucking Nowhere, Wisconsin-- would approach Maiko, start flapping their lips about the typical inane bullshit. The consequences, one supposed, of being generally well-liked in a small town by people she ardently wished would die of a brain haemorrhage.
"Omigod, Maiko, you won't believe who I saw the other day!" one would gush joyously, as though what was to follow was going to completely rock the foundations of Maiko's existence. "Yes I will," she wanted to reply flatly. "Of course I'll believe who you saw the other day. In fact, you know what, don't tell me, I don't care. Unless you're about to tell me you saw Josef Stalin, Michael Faraday, and Ötzi the Iceman sitting out by the coffee shop discussing interface ontology, I don't give a shit. Also, it's my-ko, not 'may-ko'. Does it take any effort on your part to act like you have the IQ of a block of stale cheese, or is it something that comes naturally to you?"
She coulda said that, but she knew better than to be so open and honest if she really didn't have to, even if sometimes she almost wished she could be the kind of person to give a shit about that kind of bullshit. Instead, her high features lit up with a statuesque smile, a quality of genuine interest kindled in her green eyes, and, in a fabrication of amicability on par with a base, vile con-man's flawless reproduction of the most beautiful depictions of nature by Monet, she replied, "Well, don't keep me guessing. Who'd you see the other day?" And, lo and behold, their answer was, of course, something so utterly irrelevant that even Maiko, having steeled herself mentally to be subjected to something she couldn't bring herself to care about if she honestly, earnestly tried, was taken aback by how incredibly inane it was. "What a coincidence," she remarked with a light laugh, hoping with all her heart that, in the span of about a second, a mass of cumulonimbus clouds would form overhead, kick up a storm, and direct a stray lightning bolt right at the degenerate who honestly thought Maiko needed to hear about who they'd seen the other day.
Failing that, Maiko offered up some brief, equally asinine small talk, and then extracted herself from the idiot's presence, mentioning that she had to stop by someplace before work. And thus, following yet another dull encounter with another dull creature, just another drop of water in a vast, dull ocean, Maiko was off again, the soles of her boots crunching steadily against loose gravel, the chains hanging from her jeans clanking mechanically against one another and against the copper bullet casings that lined her belt; a white cord, in stark contrast against the general black of her leather jacket, snaked it from one of her pockets, splitting into two headphones buried in each ear, dutifully pumping blissful music directly into Maiko's brain.
Before long, Maiko was free of the campus, and heading a ways into the town itself-- though, small town like this, the college was just about all it had goin' for it. Certainly, it offered much of whatever this town had. And yet, in this case, Maiko found herself venturing beyond its borders. The campus bookstore at which she made enough of a paycheck to get by, for once, did not have what she was looking for (and, in a way, rightly so-- the shelves of the school bookstore were generally reserved for things that mattered)-- lacked resources on Maiko's latest thread of interest. For that reason was it that she found herself, then, shortly before she was due at the campus bookstore, in a decrepit old hole of a bookstore called Selene's Secrets.
Shit, by the name, you woulda thought the place sold perfumes, or lingerie, or some shit like that.
But no. It was, in fact, an establishment that specialised primarily in shit like curses, vampires, werewolves-- not even really the occult, or mysticism. She was pretty sure they were only there to make some easy cash on the kind of idiots who really, honestly thought werewolves or whatever were real and thought they could get some credible information from the books this place sold. As for Maiko? She was only here to fuel her latest passing fancy. After all, anybody knew vampires and witches were bullshit, but that didn't mean it couldn't be minutely amusing to read about them.
Upon entry, Maiko was assailed with the scent of incense drifting throughout the bookstore-- meh. Probably to add some kind of mystical atmosphere or whatever. If the incense bothered her, then as usual, it didn't show: Maiko merely directed a cordial grin towards the lady at the counter, and made to go about her business.
"Excuse me," Maiko heard someone say from the counter as she walked by. "I was wondering if you have Preston and Shapiro's 'Electromyography and Neuromuscular Disorders' in stock?"
Maiko probably wasn't gonna say anything about it until the lady at the counter mentioned that they didn't have it, which made sense, because this was where you came for shit about vampires, not for actual information. At that, however, Maiko did what she figured she was, of course, supposed to do in that situation; she turned to the woman in question-- she looked vaguely familiar to Maiko, probably went to the college, they all looked the same to her. "s'cuse me," she interjected politely. "But if you're looking for that book, we should have it in stock back at the campus bookstore. Feel free to drop by there anytime to pick it up." She punctuated it with a brief but friendly sort of smile-- y'know, the kind you were supposed to give when you acted all nice to people. At least, as far as Maiko had gathered.
((Had permission from xRoo for the bit of Neveah telling Xandy they don't have the book in question.))
Tuesday, 3 September 2013
Pierreton Community College, Parking lot
Logan's Monday classes were over; one small step in a long path toward true success. He was starting out quite a bit later than most of the other students at age 37. None of their strange looks intimidated him. After wrestling gators and crocs, not to mention surviving the South Florida drug scene, any sort of social situation was trivial. Logan readjusted the strap of his backpack as he walked to his black and chrome 1994 Harley Sportster.
His first class had been Philip Harding's History of Western Civilization, Part I. If an 18 year old Logan took the class, he would have thought Harding was a decrepit, boring old man. Thankfully his experiences had taught him better than that line of thinking. The professor's head contained a fountain of knowledge; the least of it contained the history of the west. There was a lot more to that man than a wheel chair and some books.
He was half-tempted to chat up some of the local students, make an acquaintance or two. It seemed silly though, How many of these kids wanted a friend who would be turning 40 soon? He worked second shift at the Wesley Distribution Center in Pierreton Monday nights. Stacking merchandise on pallets, shrink wrapping the pallets, and moving them with power lifting equipment was a repetitive, boring job. As a felon, he was happy to be working anywhere. The DC started people out at a little over $17 an hour, which was more than double minimum wage. Logan knew plenty of ex-convicts back in Florida who were slinging hamburgers at a fast food joint for $7.40 an hour.
After placing his full face motorcycle helmet on, he sat atop his bike, taking it all in.
New beginnings. The thought resonated in his mind as he hurtled down the road in his Sporster.
Pierreton Community College, Parking lot
Logan's Monday classes were over; one small step in a long path toward true success. He was starting out quite a bit later than most of the other students at age 37. None of their strange looks intimidated him. After wrestling gators and crocs, not to mention surviving the South Florida drug scene, any sort of social situation was trivial. Logan readjusted the strap of his backpack as he walked to his black and chrome 1994 Harley Sportster.
His first class had been Philip Harding's History of Western Civilization, Part I. If an 18 year old Logan took the class, he would have thought Harding was a decrepit, boring old man. Thankfully his experiences had taught him better than that line of thinking. The professor's head contained a fountain of knowledge; the least of it contained the history of the west. There was a lot more to that man than a wheel chair and some books.
He was half-tempted to chat up some of the local students, make an acquaintance or two. It seemed silly though, How many of these kids wanted a friend who would be turning 40 soon? He worked second shift at the Wesley Distribution Center in Pierreton Monday nights. Stacking merchandise on pallets, shrink wrapping the pallets, and moving them with power lifting equipment was a repetitive, boring job. As a felon, he was happy to be working anywhere. The DC started people out at a little over $17 an hour, which was more than double minimum wage. Logan knew plenty of ex-convicts back in Florida who were slinging hamburgers at a fast food joint for $7.40 an hour.
After placing his full face motorcycle helmet on, he sat atop his bike, taking it all in.
New beginnings. The thought resonated in his mind as he hurtled down the road in his Sporster.
Xandy sighed with a little bit of annoyance. She should have known that Selene's Secrets only had books related to absolute drivel like vampires. As she was about to leave, a girl said,
"S'cuse me, but if you're looking for that book, we should have it in stock back at the campus bookstore. Feel free to drop by there anytime to pick it up."
The girl smiled, but Xandy could tell that it wasn't a real smile. She didn't really care whether it was or not. Xandy glanced at the girl, recognizing her from walks around campus. Her name was Maiko, and she seemed like one of the few people on campus that were not complete and utter idiots. Xandy might have taken the time to talk to her once in a while, but there were too many... airheads hanging around Maiko.
Xandy nodded curtly.
"Thank you for your help," she said, not returning the smile. She walked out of the old bookstore and breathed in fresh air. Christ, was it stifling in that bookstore. No matter how much incense boosted brain function (the number of alpha-2 in the left posterior portion of the brain rose significantly), it smelled awful to her.
She made her way back to the campus bookstore, where a petite, over-excited girl was all too happy to help her ("Hi there! I'm Claire! What are you looking for today! You know, we just got a huuuuuuge shipment of new books, so if you want to take a look at them, it'd be totally awesome! Hey, you're Alexandra Vittoire, aren't you? We have a class together! Hey, isn't that cool?"). It made Xandy want to dash her head against a rock, but that would cause significant brain damage, and that would be a shame. She purchased her book from Claire (finally!) and made her way to Neuro-Oncology.
She was less than thrilled to see that many of her classmates from Operative Skills in Neurosurgery were here as well. Then she saw Claire, waving at her with a huge smile plastered onto her face.
This would be a long, long semester.
"S'cuse me, but if you're looking for that book, we should have it in stock back at the campus bookstore. Feel free to drop by there anytime to pick it up."
The girl smiled, but Xandy could tell that it wasn't a real smile. She didn't really care whether it was or not. Xandy glanced at the girl, recognizing her from walks around campus. Her name was Maiko, and she seemed like one of the few people on campus that were not complete and utter idiots. Xandy might have taken the time to talk to her once in a while, but there were too many... airheads hanging around Maiko.
Xandy nodded curtly.
"Thank you for your help," she said, not returning the smile. She walked out of the old bookstore and breathed in fresh air. Christ, was it stifling in that bookstore. No matter how much incense boosted brain function (the number of alpha-2 in the left posterior portion of the brain rose significantly), it smelled awful to her.
She made her way back to the campus bookstore, where a petite, over-excited girl was all too happy to help her ("Hi there! I'm Claire! What are you looking for today! You know, we just got a huuuuuuge shipment of new books, so if you want to take a look at them, it'd be totally awesome! Hey, you're Alexandra Vittoire, aren't you? We have a class together! Hey, isn't that cool?"). It made Xandy want to dash her head against a rock, but that would cause significant brain damage, and that would be a shame. She purchased her book from Claire (finally!) and made her way to Neuro-Oncology.
She was less than thrilled to see that many of her classmates from Operative Skills in Neurosurgery were here as well. Then she saw Claire, waving at her with a huge smile plastered onto her face.
This would be a long, long semester.
6:15 PM
"And with that, I'll see you all on Thursday," Harding said almost cheerfully to conclude his last class. As the students began to pack, he added, "Don't forget to bring a copy of the reading and a healthy set of thoughts about it, even if you don't like it! Whether you like it or don't like it, thinking and asking questions is the most important part." The last part was a favorite aphorism of his that he had learned decades ago, in England. He liked teaching this particular class almost entirely because students felt free to think and criticize the work of long-dead authors, often considered above criticism for no real reason. The importance of old texts was not that everyone would love them, but that anyone could get something about the contemporary culture out of them.
Harding wheeled over to his desk as the students left, and organized his papers into their folders, before taking the folders and depositing them in the basket under his legs. He pulled out from the desk, turned to face the door, and wheeled forward at a pace just shy of a brisk walk. He paused at the door, waiting for a gap in the flow of people, then moved out quickly upon finding said gap.
At his office he tarried only long enough to drop off the lecture materials and gather his personal items before locking up and leaving through the back door of Clemens. It stood on the northern edge of campus, with a blessedly paved bike path passing by both PCC Campus and a small apartment complex, where Harding lived. He chose to live there specifically after getting the professorship and surveying the area with his old assistant for paths of access that would require minimal assistance. This way he hardly needed a car to travel to campus, which had over the years saved thousands in gasoline money. Hell, Harding hardly needed the car now, with the home-delivery services he had wrangled to make his disabled life easier. Though he was by nature dry and serious, he could not help but be happy that he had found a way, however basic, to live after being crippled.
As he reached the bike path and set out, Harding glanced around at the sky. Though sunset was a while off yet, the sky still had that beautiful tinge of amber that heralded the nearing of day's end. Harding glanced at a distant hill and stopped suddenly, trying to focus his aged eyes on what looked like a man's figure, carrying some large package. But as quickly as the old professor saw the figure, it disappeared into the trees nearby. Harding shrugged, turned the chair back, and continued on his way.
He had to admit that, though sometimes he had felt stifled in the relative confinement of Pierreton, especially early on, he had come to like the town. As the wheelchair whirred along the path at its meager-seeming top speed, Harding permitted himself a small smile. This semester would be long, as always, but it did not seem to present any particular challenges. As Harding arrived at his apartment, he decided he would find a film to watch tonight. Perhaps something new.
"And with that, I'll see you all on Thursday," Harding said almost cheerfully to conclude his last class. As the students began to pack, he added, "Don't forget to bring a copy of the reading and a healthy set of thoughts about it, even if you don't like it! Whether you like it or don't like it, thinking and asking questions is the most important part." The last part was a favorite aphorism of his that he had learned decades ago, in England. He liked teaching this particular class almost entirely because students felt free to think and criticize the work of long-dead authors, often considered above criticism for no real reason. The importance of old texts was not that everyone would love them, but that anyone could get something about the contemporary culture out of them.
Harding wheeled over to his desk as the students left, and organized his papers into their folders, before taking the folders and depositing them in the basket under his legs. He pulled out from the desk, turned to face the door, and wheeled forward at a pace just shy of a brisk walk. He paused at the door, waiting for a gap in the flow of people, then moved out quickly upon finding said gap.
At his office he tarried only long enough to drop off the lecture materials and gather his personal items before locking up and leaving through the back door of Clemens. It stood on the northern edge of campus, with a blessedly paved bike path passing by both PCC Campus and a small apartment complex, where Harding lived. He chose to live there specifically after getting the professorship and surveying the area with his old assistant for paths of access that would require minimal assistance. This way he hardly needed a car to travel to campus, which had over the years saved thousands in gasoline money. Hell, Harding hardly needed the car now, with the home-delivery services he had wrangled to make his disabled life easier. Though he was by nature dry and serious, he could not help but be happy that he had found a way, however basic, to live after being crippled.
As he reached the bike path and set out, Harding glanced around at the sky. Though sunset was a while off yet, the sky still had that beautiful tinge of amber that heralded the nearing of day's end. Harding glanced at a distant hill and stopped suddenly, trying to focus his aged eyes on what looked like a man's figure, carrying some large package. But as quickly as the old professor saw the figure, it disappeared into the trees nearby. Harding shrugged, turned the chair back, and continued on his way.
He had to admit that, though sometimes he had felt stifled in the relative confinement of Pierreton, especially early on, he had come to like the town. As the wheelchair whirred along the path at its meager-seeming top speed, Harding permitted himself a small smile. This semester would be long, as always, but it did not seem to present any particular challenges. As Harding arrived at his apartment, he decided he would find a film to watch tonight. Perhaps something new.
The lady in question merely directed a curt little nod Maiko's way, and, with all the expression of a boulder, said, "Thank you very much." And then she just turned around and walked right out of the old bookstore. Man, what a dick, Maiko immediately decided. Not really for not returning the smile-- Maiko would probably have just figured her for yet another imbecile, one of the many others who polluted this campus. You'd expect that in some densely populated hole of human refuse like New York City, or Los Angeles. Who knew I'd be dealing with it in an insignificant little town in the middle of Wisconsin? But, more to the point, on the subject of the woman being a dick, there was just something... oh, to hell with it, Maiko just didn't like her. Did she really need to start thinking of reasons to not like people for being there?
Hell, now she was in a bad mood again.
"Anyway," she said in a bright voice, turning back to the woman at the counter with a good-natured smile. "I was wondering if you, perchance, had any books on Thelemic occultism..."
It was shortly thereafter that, with the newly purchased book in tow, Maiko set off once more for the college-- in particular, the campus bookstore, destined to spend the next few hours diligently retrieving whatever bullshit college students wanted from her. Really, if it wasn't for school, then it was almost invariably something that simply wasn't worth the time. Sure, Maiko was more than prone to disparaging the campus bookstore, and it wasn't like its content was flawless, perfect, worthwhile reading throughout. Still, there had to be something these idiots thought was worth reading more than the latest Twilight book or whatever. All the amazing things to read about in this world-- physics, biology, anthropology, you name it-- and yet I couldn't for the life of me enumerate the sheer volume of people who come into that store consistently showing absolutely zero interest in any of it. Apparently, a book about a sparkly vampire with apparently crooked nipples is more relevant.
It was enough to make anybody lose their faith in humanity, except Maiko hadn't cared much to replenish her stocks of that rare commodity in many years.
Maiko had already begun to scan over the foreword to the book on Thelema she'd purchased as she encountered a cross walk and stopped, waiting for the light across the street to indicate it was permissible for her to cross-- or, more importantly, waiting for when there weren't any cars prohibiting her from just crossing anyway. She glanced from side to side for any cars, but looking to the right down a sidewalk devoid of pedestrians revealed no cars. Instead, far down in the distance, Maiko caught sight of what appeared to be a person-- some freakishly pale man, in a black coat, off in the distance. It was much too far for Maiko to make out much in the way of details, but she did know from the second she saw him there was something definitively off about him.
A recurrent tone tore Maiko's attention from the man, and she looked across the street; the light on the post had switched to an image of a walking stick figure, indicating that it was now time for her to cross. Still, somehow, Maiko couldn't help a second glance towards the queer man in the coat. And, predictably, when she went for a second look, he was gone.
... well, either some anemic dude in a coat's got some bitchin' ninja skills, or I just found myself in the plot of some kind of horror movie. Maiko figured in the latter case, she'd probably be the first person to die-- as it always is in movies, where the first person to die always gets the most violent death so that the rest of the protagonists have a total 'oh shit' moment.
As far as she was concerned, though, as she crossed the street and walked onwards, there was no horror that pale person could inflict upon her worse than having just one more degenerate ask her if they had Twilight in stock.
Hell, now she was in a bad mood again.
"Anyway," she said in a bright voice, turning back to the woman at the counter with a good-natured smile. "I was wondering if you, perchance, had any books on Thelemic occultism..."
It was shortly thereafter that, with the newly purchased book in tow, Maiko set off once more for the college-- in particular, the campus bookstore, destined to spend the next few hours diligently retrieving whatever bullshit college students wanted from her. Really, if it wasn't for school, then it was almost invariably something that simply wasn't worth the time. Sure, Maiko was more than prone to disparaging the campus bookstore, and it wasn't like its content was flawless, perfect, worthwhile reading throughout. Still, there had to be something these idiots thought was worth reading more than the latest Twilight book or whatever. All the amazing things to read about in this world-- physics, biology, anthropology, you name it-- and yet I couldn't for the life of me enumerate the sheer volume of people who come into that store consistently showing absolutely zero interest in any of it. Apparently, a book about a sparkly vampire with apparently crooked nipples is more relevant.
It was enough to make anybody lose their faith in humanity, except Maiko hadn't cared much to replenish her stocks of that rare commodity in many years.
Maiko had already begun to scan over the foreword to the book on Thelema she'd purchased as she encountered a cross walk and stopped, waiting for the light across the street to indicate it was permissible for her to cross-- or, more importantly, waiting for when there weren't any cars prohibiting her from just crossing anyway. She glanced from side to side for any cars, but looking to the right down a sidewalk devoid of pedestrians revealed no cars. Instead, far down in the distance, Maiko caught sight of what appeared to be a person-- some freakishly pale man, in a black coat, off in the distance. It was much too far for Maiko to make out much in the way of details, but she did know from the second she saw him there was something definitively off about him.
A recurrent tone tore Maiko's attention from the man, and she looked across the street; the light on the post had switched to an image of a walking stick figure, indicating that it was now time for her to cross. Still, somehow, Maiko couldn't help a second glance towards the queer man in the coat. And, predictably, when she went for a second look, he was gone.
... well, either some anemic dude in a coat's got some bitchin' ninja skills, or I just found myself in the plot of some kind of horror movie. Maiko figured in the latter case, she'd probably be the first person to die-- as it always is in movies, where the first person to die always gets the most violent death so that the rest of the protagonists have a total 'oh shit' moment.
As far as she was concerned, though, as she crossed the street and walked onwards, there was no horror that pale person could inflict upon her worse than having just one more degenerate ask her if they had Twilight in stock.
Tuesday, 3 September 2013
Wesley Distribution Center: 4:10 PM
Logan grabbed shrink wrap off of the shelf on the wall, tying it to one of the bottom corners of a pallet stacked high with grocery merchandise. At the DC, they mainly helped ship supplies to retail stores throughout the region. The merchandise ranged from TVs and air-soft rifles to toys and frozen juice. The juice of course, going in a refrigerated unit.
There were dozens of employees at large, all of them little worker ants shuffling away. Logan put the repetitiveness out of his mind, wiping his brow of sweat. He worked his ass off to do good work, to impress his bosses and hopefully get better raises. A lot of the jackasses working there fooled around much of the time. Some worked slowly, others took long breaks, and a few would attempt to steal merchandise. Those that stole didn't last long, the DC had cameras covering every angle of their work floor.
When he first started the job, he found a kindred spirit in Oscar Gutierrez. An equally fit guy, without the convict status. He used to be a cop but wouldn't play ball with them, or so he claimed. He said they found a way to fire him when he wouldn't take dirty money. They both shut up and produced results at their job, stacking and placing product at a fantastic rate.
"What are you doing Thursday night man?" Oscar asked, as he started stacking another pallet while Logan circled the one they had finished, tightly wrapping it with the shrink wrap. The rotational shift they were on gave them September 5th off.
"Pushups, situps, pull-ups . . . then I'll probably stare at the ceiling of my room before blacking out."
"Sounds exciting. The NFL season kickoff game is then, Ravens versus Broncos. Should be a great game, even without our Packers playing." Oscar was actually from Wisconsin; feeling an ownership over the team in his state. Logan had been into football years back, holding season tickets to the Miami Dolphins. Most games he was so out of his mind on drugs, he had little recognition of the games. "I didn't know if you'd want to go to a sports bar and watch it?"
Logan thought about it. "Yeah, that sounds good. It'd be even better if the Dolphins were playing, but the season opener is usually a barn-burner." It did sound like a good time. He needed to start making more of a life for himself, and not be hanging around Ramos's place all the time. Quick, pounding footsteps came up beside them as Logan finished wrapping the pallet, tearing the shrink wrap, and placing the roll back on the shelf. Raymond Fields cleared his throat to get their attention, a kid half their age, recently graduated from some University. Fields was a grade A dick. He thought his education made him better than all the grunts.
"Can you guys drop what you're doing and come do a little project for me?" Oscar and Logan acquiesced, knowing better than to argue. Fields took them toward the back bay dock; one for smaller deliveries that rarely saw use.
"We've got a special delivery on this trailer. I need the two of you to unload it, and take it back to the old mission room where they held safety meetings while we were renovating the other side of the building. Got it?"
The two of them nodded.
"And don't be fucking around with the package at all. Leave it in the room, untouched. There's a lot of money riding on that trailer. I don't want so much as a scratch on it." Fields unlocked the bay door and rolled it open, then he marched off, barking orders out and getting a few guys to finish up the work he had pulled them away from.
Oscar looked at Logan, "This is strange. We never get special deliveries. Well, I guess there was one time a few years back we got a truck loaded with alcohol. The DC Manager was throwing his son's graduation party." They were working out of most peoples' line of sight, opening the truck and sliding the lip of the bay connector onto the floor of the truck.
The interior of the truck was truly dark. Oscar grabbed one of the overhead bay lights, flipping it on. He shined it into the truck and it burnt out immediately. Thinking nothing of it, Logan grabbed the light on the opposite side, shining it in. In the trailer sat a sealed plastic crate, about seven feet long. It was barely half as wide as its length, sideways and vertically. Logan tried to find a flatcart they could lift it on to transport it more easily. With none in sight, the two of them lifted it up from opposite ends.
"Damn, this is pretty heavy. Think we can manage it?" Oscar stated it more like a rhetorical challenge than a question.
"We can manage." They carried it without too much hassle down to the far end of their work station, then through a small hallway of back offices that were hardly used. The last door on the left was already open for them. Oscar backed in holding the other end of the crate, stumbling through the doorway on an absorbent pad for spill cleaning. His hand got caught between the crate and the doorway. As he wrenched his hand away to avoid it being pinched, he lost control of the crate and it fell to the floor with a thud.
"You alright Oscar?" Logan continued to hold his end of the crate up. He felt a weight inside the crate shift down toward Oscar, they had moved whatever was inside, slightly.
"Shit, yeah. Just cut myself on the end of this crate." It was a shallow cut with a few splinters, some of his blood had stained the side of the crate.
"You ready to finish and go to break?"
Oscar grunted, picking his end back up. They moved it into the room without further incident. Oscar laughed, noting that he had banged up the crate when he dropped it. "Fields would be pissed, we scratched it!"
"Forget Fields, he won't be checking on this. He's too busy running around making sure we all do our jobs so he doesn't have to be here all night." Logan looked around the room, wondering why the crate was being left here. The walls were bare, with a few tables and chairs strewn about. No camera in this room either, he noted, looking to each corner where one usually sat. On the far wall of the room there was a large window, holding a view of the woods off in the distance. It was the only redeeming value the room had.
"Lets go lock that bay back up and go to break Logan."
"Yeah." He wanted to know what was inside, it was an awkward looking crate. Awkward meaning that there was definitely no retail product inside. Logan shut the door behind him, halting his curiosity. He didn't need to get on anyone's bad side around here.
Wesley Distribution Center: 4:10 PM
Logan grabbed shrink wrap off of the shelf on the wall, tying it to one of the bottom corners of a pallet stacked high with grocery merchandise. At the DC, they mainly helped ship supplies to retail stores throughout the region. The merchandise ranged from TVs and air-soft rifles to toys and frozen juice. The juice of course, going in a refrigerated unit.
There were dozens of employees at large, all of them little worker ants shuffling away. Logan put the repetitiveness out of his mind, wiping his brow of sweat. He worked his ass off to do good work, to impress his bosses and hopefully get better raises. A lot of the jackasses working there fooled around much of the time. Some worked slowly, others took long breaks, and a few would attempt to steal merchandise. Those that stole didn't last long, the DC had cameras covering every angle of their work floor.
When he first started the job, he found a kindred spirit in Oscar Gutierrez. An equally fit guy, without the convict status. He used to be a cop but wouldn't play ball with them, or so he claimed. He said they found a way to fire him when he wouldn't take dirty money. They both shut up and produced results at their job, stacking and placing product at a fantastic rate.
"What are you doing Thursday night man?" Oscar asked, as he started stacking another pallet while Logan circled the one they had finished, tightly wrapping it with the shrink wrap. The rotational shift they were on gave them September 5th off.
"Pushups, situps, pull-ups . . . then I'll probably stare at the ceiling of my room before blacking out."
"Sounds exciting. The NFL season kickoff game is then, Ravens versus Broncos. Should be a great game, even without our Packers playing." Oscar was actually from Wisconsin; feeling an ownership over the team in his state. Logan had been into football years back, holding season tickets to the Miami Dolphins. Most games he was so out of his mind on drugs, he had little recognition of the games. "I didn't know if you'd want to go to a sports bar and watch it?"
Logan thought about it. "Yeah, that sounds good. It'd be even better if the Dolphins were playing, but the season opener is usually a barn-burner." It did sound like a good time. He needed to start making more of a life for himself, and not be hanging around Ramos's place all the time. Quick, pounding footsteps came up beside them as Logan finished wrapping the pallet, tearing the shrink wrap, and placing the roll back on the shelf. Raymond Fields cleared his throat to get their attention, a kid half their age, recently graduated from some University. Fields was a grade A dick. He thought his education made him better than all the grunts.
"Can you guys drop what you're doing and come do a little project for me?" Oscar and Logan acquiesced, knowing better than to argue. Fields took them toward the back bay dock; one for smaller deliveries that rarely saw use.
"We've got a special delivery on this trailer. I need the two of you to unload it, and take it back to the old mission room where they held safety meetings while we were renovating the other side of the building. Got it?"
The two of them nodded.
"And don't be fucking around with the package at all. Leave it in the room, untouched. There's a lot of money riding on that trailer. I don't want so much as a scratch on it." Fields unlocked the bay door and rolled it open, then he marched off, barking orders out and getting a few guys to finish up the work he had pulled them away from.
Oscar looked at Logan, "This is strange. We never get special deliveries. Well, I guess there was one time a few years back we got a truck loaded with alcohol. The DC Manager was throwing his son's graduation party." They were working out of most peoples' line of sight, opening the truck and sliding the lip of the bay connector onto the floor of the truck.
The interior of the truck was truly dark. Oscar grabbed one of the overhead bay lights, flipping it on. He shined it into the truck and it burnt out immediately. Thinking nothing of it, Logan grabbed the light on the opposite side, shining it in. In the trailer sat a sealed plastic crate, about seven feet long. It was barely half as wide as its length, sideways and vertically. Logan tried to find a flatcart they could lift it on to transport it more easily. With none in sight, the two of them lifted it up from opposite ends.
"Damn, this is pretty heavy. Think we can manage it?" Oscar stated it more like a rhetorical challenge than a question.
"We can manage." They carried it without too much hassle down to the far end of their work station, then through a small hallway of back offices that were hardly used. The last door on the left was already open for them. Oscar backed in holding the other end of the crate, stumbling through the doorway on an absorbent pad for spill cleaning. His hand got caught between the crate and the doorway. As he wrenched his hand away to avoid it being pinched, he lost control of the crate and it fell to the floor with a thud.
"You alright Oscar?" Logan continued to hold his end of the crate up. He felt a weight inside the crate shift down toward Oscar, they had moved whatever was inside, slightly.
"Shit, yeah. Just cut myself on the end of this crate." It was a shallow cut with a few splinters, some of his blood had stained the side of the crate.
"You ready to finish and go to break?"
Oscar grunted, picking his end back up. They moved it into the room without further incident. Oscar laughed, noting that he had banged up the crate when he dropped it. "Fields would be pissed, we scratched it!"
"Forget Fields, he won't be checking on this. He's too busy running around making sure we all do our jobs so he doesn't have to be here all night." Logan looked around the room, wondering why the crate was being left here. The walls were bare, with a few tables and chairs strewn about. No camera in this room either, he noted, looking to each corner where one usually sat. On the far wall of the room there was a large window, holding a view of the woods off in the distance. It was the only redeeming value the room had.
"Lets go lock that bay back up and go to break Logan."
"Yeah." He wanted to know what was inside, it was an awkward looking crate. Awkward meaning that there was definitely no retail product inside. Logan shut the door behind him, halting his curiosity. He didn't need to get on anyone's bad side around here.
8:00 p.m.
Selene Secrets, Nevaeh’s home.
Was this really all she had to live for? Working… so much work. That seemed to be the only thing she did these days. She enjoyed her shop, very much actually. But sometimes, it did get lonely. There were times where she tried to entertain herself by reading a magazine, or one of her many books… but she read them all. She wasn’t the time to reread books over and over again, where was the fun in that? It just seemed like reading a fairytale over and over again, and if you already know the ending, what’s the point in the suspense? Nevaeh just got bored sometimes. She wished she had a life outside her shop. A life where she went out with friends, entertained herself by mingling… but her shop just seemed so high maintenance.
Eight o’clock came out of nowhere. She sighed heavily as she glanced at the clock on the wall and closed her book. She finished recording each new item brought in and new items sold. It was time to go home… that was for sure. She blew out the last scented candle and headed to the door, turned off the light and stepped outside. Oh god, it was cold. She wrapped her arms around her body and tried her best to lock the door. Somehow, she managed to get it locked and keep herself warm at the same time. She slipped the keys into her pocket and headed away from the shop. Her steps moved quickly, anything to warm up her body as she headed to her apartment.
It wasn’t too fancy of an apartment. It had the necessities. Bathroom, bedroom, kitchen, ect. The works. It was small and she liked it that way, of course, she lived alone. She lived in apartment complex, though hers was inside the large building, nothing more. She smiled as soon as it came to view, though the smile disappeared when she realized she’d be coming home to an empty home. Except for Legend, her cat.
She hurried inside and climbed the stairs to her front door. She took out her keys, unlocked the door and stepped inside. It was dark at first until she turned on the lights, took off her coat and slipped her coat on the coat rack. Soft mewing could be heard somewhere in the distance and her smile quickly returned.
“Legend, come here you crazy cat.” Nevaeh called as she walked into her kitchen. She knelt down and picked up her cat’s empty food bowl and sat it on the counter. Legend was a black and brown cat, small but a bit chubby about the stomach. Which was odd, because he hardly ate. It was just the way he grew.
“Ooh, you must be hungry.” She said softly, opening a can of tuna fish cat food. She poured it into the bowl, sat it back on the kitchen and she quickly headed to her bedroom. “Eat up, it’s bedtime.” She whispered, changing into a pair of boxers and a white t-shirt. Within moments, she had crawled into bed.
And she was out like a light.
Selene Secrets, Nevaeh’s home.
Was this really all she had to live for? Working… so much work. That seemed to be the only thing she did these days. She enjoyed her shop, very much actually. But sometimes, it did get lonely. There were times where she tried to entertain herself by reading a magazine, or one of her many books… but she read them all. She wasn’t the time to reread books over and over again, where was the fun in that? It just seemed like reading a fairytale over and over again, and if you already know the ending, what’s the point in the suspense? Nevaeh just got bored sometimes. She wished she had a life outside her shop. A life where she went out with friends, entertained herself by mingling… but her shop just seemed so high maintenance.
Eight o’clock came out of nowhere. She sighed heavily as she glanced at the clock on the wall and closed her book. She finished recording each new item brought in and new items sold. It was time to go home… that was for sure. She blew out the last scented candle and headed to the door, turned off the light and stepped outside. Oh god, it was cold. She wrapped her arms around her body and tried her best to lock the door. Somehow, she managed to get it locked and keep herself warm at the same time. She slipped the keys into her pocket and headed away from the shop. Her steps moved quickly, anything to warm up her body as she headed to her apartment.
It wasn’t too fancy of an apartment. It had the necessities. Bathroom, bedroom, kitchen, ect. The works. It was small and she liked it that way, of course, she lived alone. She lived in apartment complex, though hers was inside the large building, nothing more. She smiled as soon as it came to view, though the smile disappeared when she realized she’d be coming home to an empty home. Except for Legend, her cat.
She hurried inside and climbed the stairs to her front door. She took out her keys, unlocked the door and stepped inside. It was dark at first until she turned on the lights, took off her coat and slipped her coat on the coat rack. Soft mewing could be heard somewhere in the distance and her smile quickly returned.
“Legend, come here you crazy cat.” Nevaeh called as she walked into her kitchen. She knelt down and picked up her cat’s empty food bowl and sat it on the counter. Legend was a black and brown cat, small but a bit chubby about the stomach. Which was odd, because he hardly ate. It was just the way he grew.
“Ooh, you must be hungry.” She said softly, opening a can of tuna fish cat food. She poured it into the bowl, sat it back on the kitchen and she quickly headed to her bedroom. “Eat up, it’s bedtime.” She whispered, changing into a pair of boxers and a white t-shirt. Within moments, she had crawled into bed.
And she was out like a light.
Wednesday, 4 September 2013
Pierreton Community College, Clemens Building, 8:30 AM
From: Birch, Jacqueline
Sent: 4 September, 7:32 AM
Subj: Elaine
-------------------
Dr. Harding:
Elaine Parker's my roommate. She's in your noon class today, History 242. She's really sick this morning, and won't be able to make it. Normally I would have let her tell you, but I think she's too sick even to do that. She can't even get out of bed. I'll come by in about an hour to drop off the short essay you wanted; she finished it last night before she got sick. If there's any work she needs, I can pick it up too.
Jackie Birch
----------------------
The email was there, but Harding still had trouble wrapping his mind around it. He knew Elaine from last year, having taught her in three classes, and the young lady had a reputation with both him and her peers for not getting sick. Indeed, the past year her attendance had been impeccable. And now, here she was, apparently bedridden on the second day of classes. Partying or doing something stupid seemed unlike her, so Harding had little reason to suspect she was lying, or hiding anything, but something about it didn't click. Regardless, he would deal with it. Though 242 was a small class, and a rather discussion-based one, in which a single absence could hurt quite a bit, he also had a feeling Elaine would not have too much trouble catching up. She was a good student.
A knock suddenly came at the door. Harding looked up, and his head dropped into his open hand. He had forgotten to open the door. "Come in," he called quickly. He always forgot to prop it open for office hours. Or rather, he was still still forgetting that the school year had started, and that he needed to keep the door open, unlike the weeks immediately preceding, when he had closed them to avoid visitors who just wanted to chat and delay work.
The door opened quickly, and a young lady stepped in as quickly. Long brown hair framed a tired but very much awake face. She must have gotten little sleep. This early in the semester, that was generally a bad sign for the future. Despite the obvious tiredness, she still carried herself with an upbeat gait as she crossed half of the short distance to Harding's desk. "Hi, Dr. Harding?"
The professor smiled dryly. "That's me, yes. You must be Jacqueline Birch?"
She nodded, almost seeming to bounce as she did so. Oddly, she reminded Harding very slightly of Diane. They carried themselves with a similar energy, almost making them bounce. Unlike other times Harding was reminded of Diane, though, this didn't depress him. He was in fact happy, knowing that Diane hadn't been unique in her energetic disposition. "That I am," she replied. Even her voice had a bit of that friendly lilt to it. "I've got Elaine's work right here." She handed him two pieces of paper stapled together, which was all he expected. The assignment was meant to be an overnight thing, and probably had been for most of the class. "Is there anything I can get for her? Any handouts?"
Harding thought a moment, then shook his head. "No, the readings for Friday are all in the book she should already have," he replied. "Thank you for bringing her work for her. You may not know it," he continued, "But that does mean a lot to her. She's a very fastidious student, and I imagine she was disappointed to be so suddenly...indisposed today. Send her my best wishes."
"Thanks, I'll do that!" Jacqueline replied cheerily, then turned to leave.
Harding thought a moment, then raised his hand and called after her as she closed the door. "One more thing." Her head poked around the door expectantly, with slight touches of irritation and worry. "Could you prop the door open for me?" She nodded and opened it about halfway, then slid a triangular block of wood under the door. "Thanks very much," the professor replied. She nodded again and left without another word.
Harding filed the essay into a manila folder marked for the others that would join it at noon. Hopefully this would be the only absence. Given that the only other new emails were, in order of reception, a question from a junior professor, a question about the Western Civ homework, and a crudely written scam offer of employment, he assumed not. By and large PCC students seemed good about emailing the professors, which was a nice assumption to have.
———————————————————
1:00 PM
As expected, Elaine hadn't showed up to class. One classmate expressed consternation, but the class proceeded regardless. Harding collected the essays at the end of class, and now wheeled back to his office to drop them off. After that, he planned to eat, and visit a store in the downtown. He had never been to—Serene Secrets, was it?—never been to it before, and he was naturally curious about a supernaturals shop. His curiosity was aided by last night's nasty dreams. He had never put a great deal of stock in superstitious remedies, but last night had proven full of strange dreams, and he thought investing in a dream-catcher would at worst give him a new decoration.
He ate quickly, conscious of the minor time limit in having a class at 3 o'clock. The trip in and out of the downtown would take almost a full hour both ways, since he had to stay on sidewalks rather than take any shortcuts. With that in mind, he cleaned the remains of his lunch and left at 1:20, satisfied that he had plenty of time.
He even made good time getting to the shop, considering it was actually not too far away from the campus. It wasn't all the way in the downtown, but rather just a 20-minute trip down the main road. He wheeled up to the store (actually called "Selene's Secrets, naturally), and approached the front door sideways, entering using a complex maneuver that he could never quite describe but which ended with him entering backwards and wheeling around quickly to face the store itself as the door swung closed behind him. Immediately the smell of incense came upon him, and he almost flinched in surprise at it. He looked around, seeing nobody nearby. The store seemed a bit large to have no employees at the door. He shrugged and wheeled forward to get a better look at the small guide sign printed in front of him.
Pierreton Community College, Clemens Building, 8:30 AM
From: Birch, Jacqueline
Sent: 4 September, 7:32 AM
Subj: Elaine
-------------------
Dr. Harding:
Elaine Parker's my roommate. She's in your noon class today, History 242. She's really sick this morning, and won't be able to make it. Normally I would have let her tell you, but I think she's too sick even to do that. She can't even get out of bed. I'll come by in about an hour to drop off the short essay you wanted; she finished it last night before she got sick. If there's any work she needs, I can pick it up too.
Jackie Birch
----------------------
The email was there, but Harding still had trouble wrapping his mind around it. He knew Elaine from last year, having taught her in three classes, and the young lady had a reputation with both him and her peers for not getting sick. Indeed, the past year her attendance had been impeccable. And now, here she was, apparently bedridden on the second day of classes. Partying or doing something stupid seemed unlike her, so Harding had little reason to suspect she was lying, or hiding anything, but something about it didn't click. Regardless, he would deal with it. Though 242 was a small class, and a rather discussion-based one, in which a single absence could hurt quite a bit, he also had a feeling Elaine would not have too much trouble catching up. She was a good student.
A knock suddenly came at the door. Harding looked up, and his head dropped into his open hand. He had forgotten to open the door. "Come in," he called quickly. He always forgot to prop it open for office hours. Or rather, he was still still forgetting that the school year had started, and that he needed to keep the door open, unlike the weeks immediately preceding, when he had closed them to avoid visitors who just wanted to chat and delay work.
The door opened quickly, and a young lady stepped in as quickly. Long brown hair framed a tired but very much awake face. She must have gotten little sleep. This early in the semester, that was generally a bad sign for the future. Despite the obvious tiredness, she still carried herself with an upbeat gait as she crossed half of the short distance to Harding's desk. "Hi, Dr. Harding?"
The professor smiled dryly. "That's me, yes. You must be Jacqueline Birch?"
She nodded, almost seeming to bounce as she did so. Oddly, she reminded Harding very slightly of Diane. They carried themselves with a similar energy, almost making them bounce. Unlike other times Harding was reminded of Diane, though, this didn't depress him. He was in fact happy, knowing that Diane hadn't been unique in her energetic disposition. "That I am," she replied. Even her voice had a bit of that friendly lilt to it. "I've got Elaine's work right here." She handed him two pieces of paper stapled together, which was all he expected. The assignment was meant to be an overnight thing, and probably had been for most of the class. "Is there anything I can get for her? Any handouts?"
Harding thought a moment, then shook his head. "No, the readings for Friday are all in the book she should already have," he replied. "Thank you for bringing her work for her. You may not know it," he continued, "But that does mean a lot to her. She's a very fastidious student, and I imagine she was disappointed to be so suddenly...indisposed today. Send her my best wishes."
"Thanks, I'll do that!" Jacqueline replied cheerily, then turned to leave.
Harding thought a moment, then raised his hand and called after her as she closed the door. "One more thing." Her head poked around the door expectantly, with slight touches of irritation and worry. "Could you prop the door open for me?" She nodded and opened it about halfway, then slid a triangular block of wood under the door. "Thanks very much," the professor replied. She nodded again and left without another word.
Harding filed the essay into a manila folder marked for the others that would join it at noon. Hopefully this would be the only absence. Given that the only other new emails were, in order of reception, a question from a junior professor, a question about the Western Civ homework, and a crudely written scam offer of employment, he assumed not. By and large PCC students seemed good about emailing the professors, which was a nice assumption to have.
———————————————————
1:00 PM
As expected, Elaine hadn't showed up to class. One classmate expressed consternation, but the class proceeded regardless. Harding collected the essays at the end of class, and now wheeled back to his office to drop them off. After that, he planned to eat, and visit a store in the downtown. He had never been to—Serene Secrets, was it?—never been to it before, and he was naturally curious about a supernaturals shop. His curiosity was aided by last night's nasty dreams. He had never put a great deal of stock in superstitious remedies, but last night had proven full of strange dreams, and he thought investing in a dream-catcher would at worst give him a new decoration.
He ate quickly, conscious of the minor time limit in having a class at 3 o'clock. The trip in and out of the downtown would take almost a full hour both ways, since he had to stay on sidewalks rather than take any shortcuts. With that in mind, he cleaned the remains of his lunch and left at 1:20, satisfied that he had plenty of time.
He even made good time getting to the shop, considering it was actually not too far away from the campus. It wasn't all the way in the downtown, but rather just a 20-minute trip down the main road. He wheeled up to the store (actually called "Selene's Secrets, naturally), and approached the front door sideways, entering using a complex maneuver that he could never quite describe but which ended with him entering backwards and wheeling around quickly to face the store itself as the door swung closed behind him. Immediately the smell of incense came upon him, and he almost flinched in surprise at it. He looked around, seeing nobody nearby. The store seemed a bit large to have no employees at the door. He shrugged and wheeled forward to get a better look at the small guide sign printed in front of him.
7:00 am
Nevaeh’s Bedroom
She woke up to the soft licking of her toes. At first, she only flinched and then started a fit of laughter. Legend, her cat was meowing loudly and continuously licking at her toes. Nevaeh threw off her covers and ushered her kitten away. “Go away, Legend.” She smiled, knowing full well the cat wasn’t going t run off. She softly brushed her fingers against the cat’s fur before getting herself out of bed. She was tired, exhausted really but she knew some breakfast and coffee would wake her up. A shower would be first of course. Her cat, hopped off the bed and followed her into the bathroom. But just as Nevaeh predicted, the cat wouldn’t dare step underneath the shower head and get soaked.
After her shower, Nevaeh dressed herself in a long black skirt and a light pink top. She wore flats though and brushed her hair into a pink ribbon. She ate fruit for breakfast, and that was it. After drinking down a glass of coffee, Nevaeh grabbed her coat, keys and one of the packages delivered to her house. It was for the store. Nevaeh’s uncle had directed her packages to her house, and not the store. In case it were to get stolen otherwise.
After she arrived at the shop, it was nine in the morning. She spent most of the day unpacking boxes, placing items on shelves and hanging pictures and charms on the wall. Most of her time was spent doing that, nothing else.
1:30pm
Nevaeh heard the front door and immediately tried to stand up. She was under her desk, grabbing an old article, when she heard the door. As soon as she moved, her head slammed into her desk. She cried out and held her hand tightly to the top of her head. “Oh…” She groaned, standing up carefully and moving around the counter carefully. Her head was throbbing but she was soon in full work mode. Her eyes settled on a man, sitting down in a wheelchair. She quickly pinned up the article and turned back to look at the man.
“Hello there, welcome to Selene Secrets. Anything you’re looking for?” She wondered, giving a smile. She leaned against the counter, rubbed her head and lowered her hands to her waist. Her fingers played with the end of her shirt, brushing out the loose threads. Her eyes settled on his and she smiled once more. “We just got a new shipment of books and charm bracelets.”
Nevaeh’s Bedroom
She woke up to the soft licking of her toes. At first, she only flinched and then started a fit of laughter. Legend, her cat was meowing loudly and continuously licking at her toes. Nevaeh threw off her covers and ushered her kitten away. “Go away, Legend.” She smiled, knowing full well the cat wasn’t going t run off. She softly brushed her fingers against the cat’s fur before getting herself out of bed. She was tired, exhausted really but she knew some breakfast and coffee would wake her up. A shower would be first of course. Her cat, hopped off the bed and followed her into the bathroom. But just as Nevaeh predicted, the cat wouldn’t dare step underneath the shower head and get soaked.
After her shower, Nevaeh dressed herself in a long black skirt and a light pink top. She wore flats though and brushed her hair into a pink ribbon. She ate fruit for breakfast, and that was it. After drinking down a glass of coffee, Nevaeh grabbed her coat, keys and one of the packages delivered to her house. It was for the store. Nevaeh’s uncle had directed her packages to her house, and not the store. In case it were to get stolen otherwise.
After she arrived at the shop, it was nine in the morning. She spent most of the day unpacking boxes, placing items on shelves and hanging pictures and charms on the wall. Most of her time was spent doing that, nothing else.
1:30pm
Nevaeh heard the front door and immediately tried to stand up. She was under her desk, grabbing an old article, when she heard the door. As soon as she moved, her head slammed into her desk. She cried out and held her hand tightly to the top of her head. “Oh…” She groaned, standing up carefully and moving around the counter carefully. Her head was throbbing but she was soon in full work mode. Her eyes settled on a man, sitting down in a wheelchair. She quickly pinned up the article and turned back to look at the man.
“Hello there, welcome to Selene Secrets. Anything you’re looking for?” She wondered, giving a smile. She leaned against the counter, rubbed her head and lowered her hands to her waist. Her fingers played with the end of her shirt, brushing out the loose threads. Her eyes settled on his and she smiled once more. “We just got a new shipment of books and charm bracelets.”
Before Harding could get a good look at the sign, he heard a sudden thud, followed by a groan. A young woman then rose, holding what appeared to be a magazine article. Harding's first impression of her was one of sedulousness and professionalism. Despite the obvious pain, she carried herself evenly and carefully. Despite himself, Harding could not help but crack a small smile he heard her question and the statement which followed. His smile widened briefly as he put together his response. "Bracelets aren't quite up my alley. I'm looking for some kind of charm to ward off bad dreams. I've heard of things called, ah, 'dream catchers', I think they were called, Native American in origin...do you sell any? I should like to see something like that, if you have it."
He looked around the store as he spoke and waited for his answer. Books lined shelf after shelf, stretching around corners and out of his vision. He couldn't help being impressed, though he wondered how many of the books would actually be, well, useful, as opposed to merely diversionary. For that matter, he wondered how much was here, and how much of it was useful. Briefly he chided himself for the moment of cynicism: plenty of folk remedies had worked in Slovakia, often alongside the modern medicine that had arguably saved his own life.
He looked around the store as he spoke and waited for his answer. Books lined shelf after shelf, stretching around corners and out of his vision. He couldn't help being impressed, though he wondered how many of the books would actually be, well, useful, as opposed to merely diversionary. For that matter, he wondered how much was here, and how much of it was useful. Briefly he chided himself for the moment of cynicism: plenty of folk remedies had worked in Slovakia, often alongside the modern medicine that had arguably saved his own life.
"Dream catchers?" Nevaeh repeated and thought for a moment. She nodded with one of her small smiles as she pushed one of the racks to the side, making space for him to follow her. She lead him toward the back, where displayed on the wall, were numerous items, including one he desired. Several dream catchers hung on the wall. Some held stones within its weaves, while others were simple or more intricate. She moved her step stool against the wall and hopped onto it.
"We have several of them. Just got them in two days ago. Did you know they catch bad dreams, while through the hole here, good dreams float through so they could return to the sleeper." She explained. Nevaeh enjoyed her job very much, everything about folklore was her favorite. She then looked down at him and her head cocked slightly, like a kittens. "I can see why you wouldn't be interested in charm bracelets, my fault. Would you be interested in one of the books? We have so many, since it's your first time here, you can have a discount."
"And I'm talking too much." She laughed, brushing her hair over a shoulder. She looked at the man once more and then smiled. "I think...you'd like this one."
This one was a somewhat large dreamcatcher. It was wrapped with brown leather, black and white webbing, with a stone hanging in the middle. At the bottom, were black and grey eagle feathers. She smiled as she hopped off the stool and gently held out the catcher to the man.
http://cdn1.bigcommerce.com/server1900/1c696/products/71/images/260/DSC_6760__89841.1327131052.1280.1280.jpg
"We have several of them. Just got them in two days ago. Did you know they catch bad dreams, while through the hole here, good dreams float through so they could return to the sleeper." She explained. Nevaeh enjoyed her job very much, everything about folklore was her favorite. She then looked down at him and her head cocked slightly, like a kittens. "I can see why you wouldn't be interested in charm bracelets, my fault. Would you be interested in one of the books? We have so many, since it's your first time here, you can have a discount."
"And I'm talking too much." She laughed, brushing her hair over a shoulder. She looked at the man once more and then smiled. "I think...you'd like this one."
This one was a somewhat large dreamcatcher. It was wrapped with brown leather, black and white webbing, with a stone hanging in the middle. At the bottom, were black and grey eagle feathers. She smiled as she hopped off the stool and gently held out the catcher to the man.
http://cdn1.bigcommerce.com/server1900/1c696/products/71/images/260/DSC_6760__89841.1327131052.1280.1280.jpg
The woman paused, thinking, after she repeated the name of the item he sought, then left, beckoning to him and making the way marginally clearer. Harding wheeled after her slowly, grateful for the room even if he didn't really need it. He listened to her explanation and nodded in quiet acceptance of her words, deciding against interjecting that he knew what dream-catchers did. After all, it was in the name, for crying out loud. Might be a habit of hers though. After all, not everyone was well-versed in folklore. Harding decided to give her the benefit of the doubt, especially when she realized her rambling a moment later, and cut to the chase, presenting him with a large dream catcher.
His first impression was of curiosity. He took the catcher gently and looked it over, watching as the small blue stone in the central hole bobbed with gravity. It was a truly beautiful stone in its own curious way, not one he had seen before. The feathers were a beautiful touch as well. A simple leather thong extended from the top of the leather-bound circle, obviously to hang it. Harding looked it over one last time, then nodded in satisfaction. "I like this one. How much is it?"
Ah yes, the fatal question. With the extra accoutrements on it, it probably cost a fair amount, certainly more than a simpler one. Hopefully it would not be too expensive, however. He made a mental note to ask about books later, after he solved the matter of purchasing the dream-catcher.
His first impression was of curiosity. He took the catcher gently and looked it over, watching as the small blue stone in the central hole bobbed with gravity. It was a truly beautiful stone in its own curious way, not one he had seen before. The feathers were a beautiful touch as well. A simple leather thong extended from the top of the leather-bound circle, obviously to hang it. Harding looked it over one last time, then nodded in satisfaction. "I like this one. How much is it?"
Ah yes, the fatal question. With the extra accoutrements on it, it probably cost a fair amount, certainly more than a simpler one. Hopefully it would not be too expensive, however. He made a mental note to ask about books later, after he solved the matter of purchasing the dream-catcher.
"That one there.. is thirty because it has no other like it. But I'll give it to you for ten." She said, and she was sure of her decision too. She wondered about the man in the wheel chair. She hadn't met him before and she hoped he'd return to her store. She should talk to her grandfather about the prices. She was sure thirty was much too much but she could be wrong. Where was that old man anyhow? Judging by the time, he might be running some errands or ordering some more products. Who knew these days? Her grandfather was much a strange man, given the fact he was a little off in the head, but it gave him character. "Should I ring it up for ya?" She asked, her smile returning to her face. This one real, not played off like most smiles to those who questioned her motives with the potions or the charms.
Nevaeh found a book lying on the floor. Out of habit, she quickly knelt down and picked it up. She wiped the spine clean with her index finger, her fingers running over "Creature of the deadly night" and slowly sat it back on the shelf. She shook her head gently. "The same little girl comes in, reads part of this book and leaves it on the floor. Every day." She sighed and returned to stand a few paces from Harding.
"If its a gift, I could wrap it up for you. If not, I have some cloth to wrap it in and a bag for you to carry."
Nevaeh found a book lying on the floor. Out of habit, she quickly knelt down and picked it up. She wiped the spine clean with her index finger, her fingers running over "Creature of the deadly night" and slowly sat it back on the shelf. She shook her head gently. "The same little girl comes in, reads part of this book and leaves it on the floor. Every day." She sighed and returned to stand a few paces from Harding.
"If its a gift, I could wrap it up for you. If not, I have some cloth to wrap it in and a bag for you to carry."
Wednesday, 4 September 2013
Linda Barr-Ramos Residence, Garage, 6:30 PM
Sweat dropped to the floor, falling from Logan's shirtless torso as he pushed the weight bar at the bench press. The bench sat inside the garage, underneath his little apartment. Hugo stood over him, acting as the spotter. Logan finished his set, putting the bar back without any help, getting up so that Hugo could take his place
Hugo waited. "Logan, heads up man, don't be hanging around Linda's daughter too much." Hugo had a 16 year old step-daughter named Cara Maria; quite the stuck up little princess. They also had a 2 year old son, Luis, the prime source of Hugo's happiness; the good in him is how Hugo said it.
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Logan grabbed his water bottle.
"It means she is fine helping you out, but Cara Maria seems a little preoccupied with you. Call it an infatuation."
He looked at Hugo, taking a drink from his bottle. "Christ, she is 16 years old, I'm not looking to be on Dateline NBC."
"I know, but we're ex-cons. Most of the world sees us as animals, even our family. Linda loves me, but every now and then, she looks at me as if I'm a ticking time bomb." Hugo got on the bench, readying himself for his set.
"You don't have to worry about it. Even if Cara Maria was an adult, she's got a lot of maturing to do before I'd give her the time of day."
Hugo proceeded to tear up his set like an animal, putting Logan to shame. He was in good shape, but Hugo used to be a body builder. Muscle memory took a long time to fade away. They spent the next 30 minutes finishing the workout, targeting the chest and biceps.
"I wanted to wait til the workout was over to drop the next bomb on you." Logan stared at Hugo, waiting for the time bomb to go off. Maybe they were kicking him out.
"Reed found Linda's number here, he's been calling from Miami. He's upset you wouldn't go back to work for him." Reed was one of the men that Logan had worked for in Miami, doing all manner of things criminal.
"Shit." Logan finished his water, tossing it in the recyclable bin.
"Do you think he'd send someone all the way up here to cause trouble?"
Logan thought about it for a few moments. "I was in prison a long time, I would love to say no, but I don't know how the times changed Reed. While in the pen I heard he turned sour, he killed quite a few of his friends to move up. Do you guys want me out of here?"
"No. They already have the number, if they send someone up here to give you a message, I'll be right there with you."
"Lets hope it doesn't come to that. If it does, I don't want to put you at risk. You've got a son to care for."
"I appreciate that Logan, but it gets a little boring up here sometimes. I'd love to have an excuse to put the hurt on someone." They left the thought hanging in the air. Hopefully no one would come, Miami was a long way away. Reputation meant everything on the street though, it didn't matter how far that road stretched.
Linda Barr-Ramos Residence, Garage, 6:30 PM
Sweat dropped to the floor, falling from Logan's shirtless torso as he pushed the weight bar at the bench press. The bench sat inside the garage, underneath his little apartment. Hugo stood over him, acting as the spotter. Logan finished his set, putting the bar back without any help, getting up so that Hugo could take his place
Hugo waited. "Logan, heads up man, don't be hanging around Linda's daughter too much." Hugo had a 16 year old step-daughter named Cara Maria; quite the stuck up little princess. They also had a 2 year old son, Luis, the prime source of Hugo's happiness; the good in him is how Hugo said it.
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Logan grabbed his water bottle.
"It means she is fine helping you out, but Cara Maria seems a little preoccupied with you. Call it an infatuation."
He looked at Hugo, taking a drink from his bottle. "Christ, she is 16 years old, I'm not looking to be on Dateline NBC."
"I know, but we're ex-cons. Most of the world sees us as animals, even our family. Linda loves me, but every now and then, she looks at me as if I'm a ticking time bomb." Hugo got on the bench, readying himself for his set.
"You don't have to worry about it. Even if Cara Maria was an adult, she's got a lot of maturing to do before I'd give her the time of day."
Hugo proceeded to tear up his set like an animal, putting Logan to shame. He was in good shape, but Hugo used to be a body builder. Muscle memory took a long time to fade away. They spent the next 30 minutes finishing the workout, targeting the chest and biceps.
"I wanted to wait til the workout was over to drop the next bomb on you." Logan stared at Hugo, waiting for the time bomb to go off. Maybe they were kicking him out.
"Reed found Linda's number here, he's been calling from Miami. He's upset you wouldn't go back to work for him." Reed was one of the men that Logan had worked for in Miami, doing all manner of things criminal.
"Shit." Logan finished his water, tossing it in the recyclable bin.
"Do you think he'd send someone all the way up here to cause trouble?"
Logan thought about it for a few moments. "I was in prison a long time, I would love to say no, but I don't know how the times changed Reed. While in the pen I heard he turned sour, he killed quite a few of his friends to move up. Do you guys want me out of here?"
"No. They already have the number, if they send someone up here to give you a message, I'll be right there with you."
"Lets hope it doesn't come to that. If it does, I don't want to put you at risk. You've got a son to care for."
"I appreciate that Logan, but it gets a little boring up here sometimes. I'd love to have an excuse to put the hurt on someone." They left the thought hanging in the air. Hopefully no one would come, Miami was a long way away. Reputation meant everything on the street though, it didn't matter how far that road stretched.
Harding's eyes widened in delight as the woman named the price. Thirty seemed a bit too much for him, certainly for a charm that might not work anyhow. But at ten, it seemed like a very nice deal, particularly for something that at worst would be a beautiful addition to his bedroom decoration. A younger man might consider it a nice conversation piece after...certain events, but Harding had no such company. Still, a third of its regular price, and a unique, beautiful piece at that? "For ten? I'll take it," he replied to her with a nod. He moved his chair out of the way to let her past him to the front desk, and followed her as she proceeded to the front desk. He paused behind her as she leaned down and picked up a book, looking at it for a moment before remarking dryly about it. Harding listened, a bit intrigued, and tried to see the book's spine as she replaced it on the shelf. Before he could get a good look, she addressed him again. "Ah, uhm, it's for me. Uh, personal use. Just a bag's fine," he answered. His curiosity got the better of him then. "Pardon my curiosity, what was that book? I confess I have an...extensive...interest in the occult and the supernatural. I don't know of many reliable works on the topic; something new to read would be excellent."
He had to admit to himself, the entire place intrigued him greatly. He wondered how, in his thirty years living in Pierreton, he had never thought to come to this place. Hell, he had never even heard of it before. Was it new?
He had to admit to himself, the entire place intrigued him greatly. He wondered how, in his thirty years living in Pierreton, he had never thought to come to this place. Hell, he had never even heard of it before. Was it new?
She stood behind the counter for a moment, ringing up the price and wrapped up the dream catcher lightly before slipping it into the bag. He looked interested and seemed so, about the book she had just put back on the shelf. Her eyes lifted slightly, and widened just a little as she pondered over the question. "Creature of the night." She answered, recalling the title. "It's an old book about the legends of succubus and vampires. Talks about how they came to be and how people are hoplessly mistaken about their kind, it also explains techniques to protect oneself. Would you like it? I'll tell you what..."
Nevaeh moved back to the shelf and gently took the book and slipped it into the bag. She tied it closed with a small red ribbon and slid the back to the end of the counter. "You can have it. As a welcoming gift for your first time." She gave a smile, and she meant it too. "That way, if you like it after you've read it, you might want to come back."
Nevaeh moved back to the shelf and gently took the book and slipped it into the bag. She tied it closed with a small red ribbon and slid the back to the end of the counter. "You can have it. As a welcoming gift for your first time." She gave a smile, and she meant it too. "That way, if you like it after you've read it, you might want to come back."
- 19 posts here • Page 1 of 1
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View All » Add Character » 8 Characters to follow in this universe
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Logan Esmond
Thou know'st 'tis common; all that lives must die, passing through nature to eternity.
Xandy Vittoire
One day, the silent majority will be silent no more.
Philip Harding
"What do you want with an old cripple?"
Trending
Logan Esmond
Thou know'st 'tis common; all that lives must die, passing through nature to eternity.
Philip Harding
"What do you want with an old cripple?"
Xandy Vittoire
One day, the silent majority will be silent no more.
Most Followed
Philip Harding
"What do you want with an old cripple?"
Logan Esmond
Thou know'st 'tis common; all that lives must die, passing through nature to eternity.
Xandy Vittoire
One day, the silent majority will be silent no more.
Fullscreen Chat » Create Topic » Nosferatu: The Hunt: Out of Character
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Most recent OOC posts in Nosferatu: The Hunt
Re: Nosferatu: The Hunt
I was sorry to read this earlier. Plus, though I try not to nerd out too much, Last of Us was taking a lot of my time away.
Re: Nosferatu: The Hunt
Alright, I hate to announce this, but due to several factors, including problems contacting people and issues with plotting, I am tentatively closing this RP. I don't have the time to invest to bring it back now, but I will bring it back later, so to those who have remained interested, do not despair! Nosferatu will be back, and better.
But for now, I'm not sure if it can work.
But for now, I'm not sure if it can work.
Re: Nosferatu: The Hunt
That's great. Glad to see you didn't vanish on us; that's happened in other RP's I've done.
Re: Nosferatu: The Hunt
I'm so so so sorry for not posting very often, everyone! My schedule's just been so crazy lately, and whenever I try to start writing, nothing comes to mind. I will certainly have a decent post sometime this week, if that's okay?
Re: Nosferatu: The Hunt
Guys, we need to get posting. If you can't make it for the moment (finals are bearing down on us all) you need to say something; either PM me or say here.
Re: Nosferatu: The Hunt
To be blunt it shouldn't matter too much right now, since most of the characters have disparate stories up until the vampire unites them in purpose. In other words, at this time we shouldn't have to worry about posting order, just that people post once at least (and usually only once is needed) in a round.
Re: Nosferatu: The Hunt
I hope to be able to post sometime in the coming days, but as of late I've just felt like absolute shit-- lethargic, miserable, can't bring myself to write worth a shit, if at all. Would hate for my brief lapse into uselessness to hold the RP back, so I'll try and force something out, but if anything, I too will have to ask y'all to just skip me in the meantime.
Re: Nosferatu: The Hunt
I am waiting for other posts before I post for Nevaeh, I hope that's alright.
Re: Nosferatu: The Hunt
It's nothing terribly mindblowing. Mostly the logic of living on your own while paralyzed.
EDIT: And our bloodsucking antagonist finally makes his first (distant) appearance! I'm very happy that we seem to have interest going, and I'm sorry I delayed as I did. I have had some heavy work recently, but it should all be lightening in a week or two.
EDIT2: Please keep your post times to after 5 o'clock, as I'd like to get to the night-time. Feel free to have dreams for your characters...within reason. To those I have PM'd details, don't forget them!
-Erik
EDIT: And our bloodsucking antagonist finally makes his first (distant) appearance! I'm very happy that we seem to have interest going, and I'm sorry I delayed as I did. I have had some heavy work recently, but it should all be lightening in a week or two.
EDIT2: Please keep your post times to after 5 o'clock, as I'd like to get to the night-time. Feel free to have dreams for your characters...within reason. To those I have PM'd details, don't forget them!
-Erik
Re: Nosferatu: The Hunt
x I'm excited! I wonder what I would have to incorperate to my posts. I'm excited and I cannot wait to read your post. x
Re: Nosferatu: The Hunt
New post pending. I'm trying to figure out some stuff with Philip's background that hadn't occurred to me before because I'm an idiot sometimes.
Re: Nosferatu: The Hunt
OFFICIAL ANNOUNCEMENT TIME YOU GUIZE SO PAY ATTENTION PLS
Okay, now that I have your attention, here's my announcement.
I'm going to PM people every so often with little notes. These are things that NPC's do that I want you to incorporate into your post. For example, using my character as an example (and assuming I'm not GM here):
GM might PM "Philip gets visited by a man in black asking about his time in Slovakia." That's all you'll get. Your job is to integrate that into your post. So in my case, I decide what Philip's reaction to this is. Does he get defensive about it? Does the man trigger a traumatic memory? Does Philip pull out a gun and shoot him?
The last one is unlikely, of course, but you get the idea. I'll be PMing situations, and it's up to you to write your characters' reaction to the events (within the confines of the character). My hope is that we'll get an interesting dynamic of these unique characters acting in these situations, while also providing cutaway exposition about the vampire.
As always, PM me or hit me up on chat if you have any questions about this.
-Erik
Okay, now that I have your attention, here's my announcement.
I'm going to PM people every so often with little notes. These are things that NPC's do that I want you to incorporate into your post. For example, using my character as an example (and assuming I'm not GM here):
GM might PM "Philip gets visited by a man in black asking about his time in Slovakia." That's all you'll get. Your job is to integrate that into your post. So in my case, I decide what Philip's reaction to this is. Does he get defensive about it? Does the man trigger a traumatic memory? Does Philip pull out a gun and shoot him?
The last one is unlikely, of course, but you get the idea. I'll be PMing situations, and it's up to you to write your characters' reaction to the events (within the confines of the character). My hope is that we'll get an interesting dynamic of these unique characters acting in these situations, while also providing cutaway exposition about the vampire.
As always, PM me or hit me up on chat if you have any questions about this.
-Erik
Re: Nosferatu: The Hunt
Then we are off!
EDIT: I have added something on to Rule 2, as well as a 2.5 (which is really more for Rule 2, but the rule was getting a bit long). Please read it before you post, and refer to it in the future. I am open to changes within reason, but consistency among RPers is important.
EDIT: I have added something on to Rule 2, as well as a 2.5 (which is really more for Rule 2, but the rule was getting a bit long). Please read it before you post, and refer to it in the future. I am open to changes within reason, but consistency among RPers is important.
Re: Nosferatu: The Hunt
I've been checking in, please shoot me a PM when we're ready to rock. I will be back eventually, but the PM will be a for sure sign.
Re: Nosferatu: The Hunt
Alright, we're going to try and find one more person, but if we can't we'll go with the five-person cast we have.
I will also have an NPC list at some point, just to keep track of those people. NPC's can be controlled by anyone within reason, but should not be the centerpiece of a post without my authorization (ie for a plot point).
I will also have an NPC list at some point, just to keep track of those people. NPC's can be controlled by anyone within reason, but should not be the centerpiece of a post without my authorization (ie for a plot point).
Re: Nosferatu: The Hunt
Thank you so very much for accepting my character.
Hey everyone, I'll be playing Nevaeh. Heaven spelled backwards...kind of ironic due to the creatures of the night.
I look forward to roleplaying with you all.
Hey everyone, I'll be playing Nevaeh. Heaven spelled backwards...kind of ironic due to the creatures of the night.
I look forward to roleplaying with you all.
Re: Nosferatu: The Hunt
Alright, I think we're going to look for two more characters, preferably without doubling, then start things up. If anybody has a friend who might be interested, ask around!
Re: Nosferatu: The Hunt
Yeah, for traditional degree pathways. They have plenty of licensing offerings for nursing and such as well. If anyone wants to link up any pre-existing relationship, no matter how big or small, let me know.