Announcements: Cutting Costs (2024) » January 2024 Copyfraud Attack » Finding Universes to Join (and making yours more visible!) » Guide To Universes On RPG » Member Shoutout Thread » Starter Locations & Prompts for Newcomers » RPG Chat — the official app » Frequently Asked Questions » Suggestions & Requests: THE MASTER THREAD »

Latest Discussions: Adapa Adapa's for adapa » To the Rich Men North of Richmond » Shake Senora » Good Morning RPG! » Ramblings of a Madman: American History Unkempt » Site Revitalization » Map Making Resources » Lost Poetry » Wishes » Ring of Invisibility » Seeking Roleplayer for Rumple/Mr. Gold from Once Upon a Time » Some political parody for these trying times » What dinosaur are you? » So, I have an Etsy » Train Poetry I » Joker » D&D Alignment Chart: How To Get A Theorem Named After You » Dungeon23 : Creative Challenge » Returning User - Is it dead? » Twelve Days of Christmas »

Players Wanted: Serious Anime Crossover Roleplay (semi-literate) » Looking for a long term partner! » JoJo or Mha roleplay » Seeking long-term rp partners for MxM » [MxF] Ruining Beauty / Beauty x Bastard » Minecraft Rp Help Wanted » CALL FOR WITNESSES: The Public v Zosimos » Social Immortal: A Vampire Only Soiree [The Multiverse] » XENOMORPH EDM TOUR Feat. Synthe Gridd: Get Your Tickets! » Aishna: Tower of Desire » Looking for fellow RPGers/Characters » looking for a RP partner (ABO/BL) » Looking for a long term roleplay partner » Explore the World of Boruto with Our Roleplaying Group on FB » More Jedi, Sith, and Imperials needed! » Role-player's Wanted » OSR Armchair Warrior looking for Kin » Friday the 13th Fun, Anyone? » Writers Wanted! » Long term partner to play an older male wanted »

The Life Noir

Life Noir: Night at the Knutsons'

a part of “The Life Noir”, a fictional universe by Jadeling Hawkins.

Takes place in the 1920's, New York, New York. Told in the classic Film Noir style, the goal is to explore the reality of good intentions versus evil actions, the complexities of relationships when law, social status and past decisions are inserted into t

Characters Settings Story
If you would like to make your own roleplay based on the real world, use this forum. You will be in charge of all things related to your roleplay, so you're on your own here.

Life Noir: Night at the Knutsons'

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Jadeling Hawkins on Thu May 28, 2009 8:05 pm

Hello, and welcome to 'Night at the Knutsons',' being a comedic offshoot of the roarin' twenties game, The Life Noir.

In order to participate in this game, you must:

- have been involved with the original game
- make sure there is a reasonable amount to reply to in your posts
- have access to a computer.

And that's it!

If you're here, I assume you are here by invitation and therefore already know approximately what's about to go down. If not, here it is:

We're experimenting to see what would happen if all of our nutty characters wound up in a single house for one night. This game will technically take place after the events of the Mayor's Charity Ball, but as I perceive that it shall be quite silly we will not be counting this among the official canon of the game. Feel free to make up facts that may or may not happen between the current time in the main thread and the time of this one (again, within reason). It's just for fun. So have fun!

The premise: There is a massive blizzard on the night of December 18th, 1923. Unfortunately, your characters find themselves away from the comforts of their own abodes and big fluffy blankets. Fortunately, your characters find themselves within distance of a friendly looking farm. The exact manner in which your puppets find themselves in this state is entirely up to you.

Have at it!
Image

Tip jar: the author of this post has received 0.00 INK in return for their work.

Jadeling Hawkins
Member for 17 years
Promethean Conversation Starter Author Inspiration Conversationalist Friendly Beginnings Donated! Lifegiver Tipworthy Tipworthy Tipworthy Tipworthy

Re: Life Noir: Night at the Knutsons'

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Jadeling Hawkins on Thu May 28, 2009 8:20 pm

"Come on...come on..!" The blond muttered in an Irish accent made thick with annoyance as she tried again and again to turn over the motor of her flivver. The car sputtered, gasped, and wheezed...and finally simply gave up trying. The cold was too much, the snow was coming down by the bucketful and Fiona struck the steering wheel with a brief fury. It was supposed to be the real McCoy, this car. It wasn't supposed to get choked up by a little thing like an unexpected blizzard.

"Well, we are just two poor little bunnies," Fiona muttered irately as she sat back in her seat. She was speaking, of course, to the only other occupant of the car: one Detective Remy Bruyere, her partner. "Even if this hayburner would get started back up, I doubt we could get very far. The snow's piling up like Killian's debts."

The bearcat frowned, rubbing her hands against her arms to warm herself. She was wearing a coat, but it was just one that she had grabbed on the way out to run this errand into the country. "Looks like this is our camp for tonight. The backseat should have room aplenty for the two of us...we'll have to sleep close together to stay warm enou--wait!!"

Fiona leaned forward, squinting against the glare of the thousands of snowflakes that flurried by. There, in the distance, she could see just the outline of a few square windows. "Looks like we won't have to squish up after all. There's some kind of house over there! Come on, sugar, let's ankle. I'll bet they'll be hospitable. And even if they don't want to be, I've got enough dough on me to convince 'em to be. Get a wiggle on, Detective!"

She shoved her door open and hopped out, falling nearly to her knees in snow. Then Fiona Muirenn set off determinedly against the wind towards the house up the road.

Tip jar: the author of this post has received 0.00 INK in return for their work.

Jadeling Hawkins
Member for 17 years
Promethean Conversation Starter Author Inspiration Conversationalist Friendly Beginnings Donated! Lifegiver Tipworthy Tipworthy Tipworthy Tipworthy

Re: Life Noir: Night at the Knutsons'

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Kohananinja on Thu May 28, 2009 11:52 pm

“Anything?” Adrian Dawson called out the window from inside her brother’s cushy Douglas street rod. She shivered as snow wiped around her face sending a biting chill down her spine, even as she wore her coat. She hadn’t been in this bad a blizzard since she and Gordie had gone looking for a rather legendary and historical set of jade jars in the Himalayas.

“Come on baby don’t die on me now! You can make this Delilah!” Gordie said while tinkering under the hood, trying to get their car moving again.

“Gordie, I really don’t think the car is going to answer you.” Adrian said slightly embarrassed to called Gordie her brother at the moment. He had a bit of an embarassing habit for naming his cars, planes, bikes ect. Gordie was a brilliant pilot, and a halfway decent engineer, but he had a real curse with cars, the problem being they always died on him. She’d always made it a point in the past not to let him drive her car for any reason, but unfortunately, this was his car, and as they were on a family trip, she’d had little choice but to go along.

“Oh dry up Addy! Delilah’s got plenty of fight left in her!” Gordie protested adamantly as he shook his wrench. It was at that moment ‘Delilah’ gave a bursting sound from the engine that sounded like a dying breath of defeat. “Not another one!”

“G-G-Gordie! Get in a-already!” Kathy said impatiently from the back as she huddled up in her coat and an extra afghan with her teeth chattering and her small form shaking. It looked quite comical to see the normally spunky dame in such a site with her short blond curls bobbing this way and that.

“You’d think a dame from Chicago would be more used to the cold.” Gordie grumbled as he returned into the car, still smarting over the untimely demise of his beloved (and relatively new) Delilah.

“Oh hush it Gordie! I didn’t move to New York for the cold, it’s just an unfortunate little fluke.” Kathy shot back.

“Well applesause, look over there!” Adrian said, effectively ignoring both her siblings as she spotted what looked to be a farm in the distance. “We just might get out of this yet. Be a crying shame if it was New York that did us in, and not something a bit more copacetic like a Egyptian tomb. Much more interesting, right Gordie?” Adrian said with a grin despite the cold.

Tip jar: the author of this post has received 0.00 INK in return for their work.

User avatar
Kohananinja
Member for 16 years
Promethean Conversation Starter Author Inspiration Conversationalist Friendly Beginnings Novelist Lifegiver Tipworthy Tipworthy Giver

Re: Life Noir: Night at the Knutsons'

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby daughterofdon on Fri May 29, 2009 1:45 pm

He wasn’t very bothered by the blizzard. Sure, it was an inconvenience having to chug through all the foul weather in his $650 1921 Buick touring car. But Lance kept ploughing along, with teeth chattering. He knew just where he wanted to be: the Knutson’s farm, where Alanna had gone to work, and was probably snowed-in. And he was anxious enough to brave the weather to see her.

“I’m coming, honey-bunny,” he promised aloud to himself, feeling warmer just thinking about his Yooper girlfriend. He was also wearing a pair of choppers that she gave him the coldest winter in Toronto, which kept his hands warm as he gripped the wheel. A red, woolen tuque sat warmly upon his head, knitted by his mum and topped with a yarn pom-pom. He wasn’t in his uniform—he was wearing a winter coat and red plaid flannel shirt underneath, crossed by suspenders.

Lance was more than just eager to see that his girlfriend was safe and secure at the Knutsons’. He needed her for his own sanity. He was still reeling from something very awful that had happened to him. Namely, he had been fired. Until that day in mid-December, he had been too ashamed to really accept Alanna’s comforts. Now, after a week of being out of a job, Lance felt like he needed his optimistic sweetie more than ever.

It had all been a nasty to-do. He didn’t even want to think of the details—about what lead him to publicly berate Jenny King, which in turn led to a fist fight with Officer Morgan
 and then having his badge ripped off his chest by the Commissioner himself.

Now, anyone who only knew him as the Sergeant probably wouldn’t recognize Mr. Knightley. He had more than a week’s worth of a dark beard on his face and his hair was unkempt and curling out from under his thick tuque. Without his uniform and badge, Lance saw himself as a bum. In reality, he was only an aged, slightly ragged version of himself before the War.

Lance managed to get his automobile within sight of the farm. He pulled up to a fancy wine-colored car that was already parked near the house. He got out of his car, pulling his coat tight and holding onto his hat. Then he trudged through the deep snow in his winter boots and reached the porch. Waiting there, was a dark woman wrapped in a humongous mink coat.

“Lady, why aren’t you inside in this—Morgana?” Lance recognized the woman when she turned her face to him and held up a gloved hand to silence his lips, which put his chattering to a stop as well.

“Hush, darling, I just got here. I’m waiting for the kindly folks to come to the door,” she said huskily, looking to the farm house with a secretive smile.

Tip jar: the author of this post has received 0.00 INK in return for their work.

User avatar
daughterofdon
Member for 16 years
Promethean Conversation Starter Author Inspiration Conversationalist Friendly Beginnings Novelist Lifegiver

Re: Life Noir: Night at the Knutsons'

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Kohananinja on Fri May 29, 2009 2:30 pm

“Well, looks like it’s not too bad a walk up there.” Adrian commented, hopping out of the car, blessedly in her boots, and looked ahead at the farmhouse. She didn’t know how willing they’d be to put them up, but it couldn’t hurt to ask. Better than freezing their tails off out here.

“Speak for yourself Addy, I can’t go out there in these!” Kathy said in protest, referring to her nice open toe dress shoes. For once, travelling in style had backfired on her swanky sister. “I told you to dress warmly.” Adrian said mildly as she open Kathy’s door.” Gordie, would you mind?” She called over to her brother, who let out a small sigh as he walked over to Kathy’s door and pulled her out, carrying her while they made their way to the farm house.

“Geeze Kathy, what have you been eating?!” Gordie joked mischievously with a grin, as he pretended to have trouble carrying her, earning a rather murderous look from Kathy.

“Like a normal human being, only about a quarter of what you do.” Kathy said with an overly sweet and innocent voice. Gordie rolled his eyes at the all too often made comment. So what if he had an appetite?

“I could drop you in the snow right and not feel guilty about it at all, you know that?” Gordie said slightly annoyed.

“I know that, but you won’t.” Kathy said with a smile, and gave her brother a peck on the cheek, stopping all thoughts of further pranks from Gordie. He was a sucker for his sisters that way.

“Well, I looks like we aren’t going to be alone out here.” Adrian said lightly as they reached the porch. “You folks get stuck out here too?” She asked the somewhat shaggy looking man and dark haired woman who were standing there.

Tip jar: the author of this post has received 0.00 INK in return for their work.

User avatar
Kohananinja
Member for 16 years
Promethean Conversation Starter Author Inspiration Conversationalist Friendly Beginnings Novelist Lifegiver Tipworthy Tipworthy Giver

Re: Life Noir: Night at the Knutsons'

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Walter Barrecks on Fri May 29, 2009 3:33 pm

The Cajun had only given Fiona enough of his attention to speak with her, the rest directed at the weather. It was a first, him choosing to stare outside rather than at the woman with him. However, it wasn't everyday the Cajun could feast his eyes on a blizzard. White flakes falling toward the ground at a decent speed was interesting, not to mention how beautiful it looked on the ground. The temperature was difference was quite noticeable, which he didn't mind, it felt good. It was all so fascinating, especially because the snow filled the air and sky.

It was about this point where he drew his attention from the weather and back to Miss Muirenn. " We're stuck, huh? Sounds like som'one up dere likes moi." He wore his normal grin, as well as matching gray fedora with trench coat. Under it, he had normal clothing, white shirt, black tie, suspenders, and some gray slacks. "I got not problem cuddlin'." He replied to her plan, but disappointment washed over his face when she mentioned the house in the distance. "Damnit... can't we jus' curl up like you said?"

Remy rolled out of the car, quickly following her. He removed his coat and wrapped it around her. Aside from possibly being ossified, he wasn't phased by the cold. "If dey won't take money, I can always charm our way in."
"She called me late last night, to say she loved me so.
But I guess you changed her mind.
Well I should have known it wouldn't be all right,
But I can't live without her
So I won't even try...
And if I get drunk, then I'll pass out on the floor now baby.
Cause you won't bother me no more.
And if you're drinking, well you know that you're my friend and I say
I guess I'll have myself a beer."
Reel Big Fish- Beer

Tip jar: the author of this post has received 0.00 INK in return for their work.

Walter Barrecks
Member for 17 years
Conversation Starter Conversationalist

Re: Life Noir: Night at the Knutsons'

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Jadeling Hawkins on Fri May 29, 2009 3:51 pm

"Aw...and here I thought you wanted to cuddle," Fiona replied with a grin, gratefully hugging the coat around herself. She would have shoved it back at him and smacked him upside the head for exposing himself to the elements, but he looked like he was doing alright. He was warm enough to make a crack about his charm, anyhow. "But maybe if you get is in there, we can cuddle in the barn or something. Come on, kitten, we're almost there."



Alanna hurried to the door of Sam and Alice's house, being certain she had heard someone knock.

"Sweet bleedin' toads, who'd be daft enough to wander around in a blizzard?" The Yooper gal muttered under her breath. She was used to harsh weather like this, but maybe New Yorkers weren't? She knew, from the way the wind howled, that the door would practically slam open when she turned the handle, so she braced herself against it before doing so. Just as she had known, the wind and snow was quick to roar in through the doorway, and without wasting time asking who it was and what they wanted Alanna grabbed the pair of them and hauled them inside. Then she struggled to shut the door once more, practically collapsing against it as she struggled to catch her breath. "Crimony! Quite the little breeze we've got goin' out there, eh?"

Panting as she leaned against the struggling door, Alanna took a moment to examine the Knutsons' guests. They were both bundled up so that she couldn't hardly tell if they were male or female! But before she could ask what they were doing wandering around in the dark stormy night, there came another knock at the door.

"You gotta be joshin' me!" She gasped, spinning around to let the door slam open once more. And in came another pair; a woman struggling to keep the large trenchcoat she was wearing closed and her fedora jammed down on her head, and a man who wasn't even wearing a coat. She didn't have to pull these two, they were practically thrown in by the wind.

Fiona stumbled, grabbing on to Remy, which sent them both to the ground with her strewn across his stomach. Alanna struggled in shutting the door once more, and Fiona shook her head, sending a cascade of snow onto the floor. Then she shrugged off the trenchcoat, dropped it on the Cajun's face, and spoke wearily, "T'anks for the coat, Rem. Does this count as cuddling?"

Tip jar: the author of this post has received 0.00 INK in return for their work.

Jadeling Hawkins
Member for 17 years
Promethean Conversation Starter Author Inspiration Conversationalist Friendly Beginnings Donated! Lifegiver Tipworthy Tipworthy Tipworthy Tipworthy

Re: Life Noir: Night at the Knutsons'

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Kohananinja on Fri May 29, 2009 5:05 pm

Before the pair could answer Adrian however, they were quickly yanked in through the door, which was hastily closed after words. Gordie and Adrian shared a brief pointed look that clearly stated ‘You go knock’. Neither wanting to be the first to be grabbed in with such little warning. Eventually though, Adrian was the one who gave up the stubborn battle of wills knocked on the door.

“Well have to give New York credit, you never cease to see interesting things.” Gordie said with a bit of a laugh now that he wasn’t first in line to be yanked though the door.

“No,” Adrian started. “Dull is never a word I would use for this place.”

Tip jar: the author of this post has received 0.00 INK in return for their work.

User avatar
Kohananinja
Member for 16 years
Promethean Conversation Starter Author Inspiration Conversationalist Friendly Beginnings Novelist Lifegiver Tipworthy Tipworthy Giver

Re: Life Noir: Night at the Knutsons'

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby NorthernSoul on Fri May 29, 2009 6:47 pm

"I hate Edison," said Ben sourly, as the car rattled through the snow. "Why the hell did I agree to leave New York? I like New York City. There's cabs in New York. And my apartment. Not this damn car and a damn blizzard."

After the events of the last couple of months, the Times editor had decided to send the two journos on an all-expenses-paid vacation to a small seaside town in New Jersey to get a little relaxation and recuperation and, after experiencing one murder and three attempted murders, Ben was inclined to agree that they deserved it. What Ben didn't deserve, however, was to be driving a rickety Ford borrowed from Doug's garage through New York State countryside in the middle of snowstorm. It had taken them hours to get nowhere and night was already upon them. There was not a chance in hell they were going to make it across the state border in time to find a little guesthouse somewhere.

"Let's find the most expensive place we can and hole up there until wherever the hell we are decides it doesn't want to be Alaska anymore," he said, to Jo, in the seat beside him as he took a left. "Think they've got a branch of the Waldorf around here?"

Outside, the darkness was only broken by the slight suggestion of trees and a blur of white that flew past the thin glass. Inside was warmer than the outside of the car, but only marginally. Ben's breath misted in front of his crooked nose and he'd wrapped a thick scarf around his neck. The hands that gripped the steering wheel were gloved and he'd pulled on his peacoat over his jacket in an effort to combat the chill.

The car's headlights dipped as they drove down a shallow slope then rose again as it plateaued. Ben swore when the road immediately ahead of them was revealed. A huge drift of snow had been swept across the narrow road, pooling beneath a thicket of trees. Unless they wanted to spend the next few hours digging their way through, they'd have to find another route.

"Snow drift? Or dirt track?" said Ben, as he began to turn the car around towards a turning they'd passed just seconds before. Even if it led to a little farmhouse, perhaps they could buy a room there for the night. Hell, he'd take a nice warm barn at this rate.

Tip jar: the author of this post has received 0.00 INK in return for their work.

User avatar
NorthernSoul
Member for 17 years
Promethean Conversation Starter Author Inspiration Conversationalist Novelist Completionist Lifegiver

Re: Life Noir: Night at the Knutsons'

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby whiteangel on Sat May 30, 2009 11:19 am

Alanna hadn't been the only woman in the house to hear the various rapping upon the door. Alice Knutson, mother hen of the farm house herself, had been elbow deep (literally) in the preparation of dinner and now removed her hands from the chicken she was readying and followed the sounds of the winter wind whipping through her house.

"Lawd, who's got that front door open. If you want to play in the snow, you can jest -" With a hand full of stuffing in one hand, and a battering brush in the other, Alice's jaw dropped an inch as she entered the room and beheld the troupe standing in her front entry way, "What in heavens?...Sam! Dorothy! Clyde! You'd best be speedy getting down here!"

"Coming mother!" A sing song voice called from above. Dorothy, having been deposited earlier with Charlie in a taxi cab, removed herself from the bed she'd been sitting on in what used to be her bedroom. Alanna and Clyde had arrived earlier that afternoon to replenish the stand, and shortly there after the skies had darkened with clouds that promised snow. In an attempt to quicken the process and return to the city before the storm hit, Dorothy had recruited Charlie to come with her and help in the produce gathering efforts. Unfortunately the storm was quicker than they, and now the four of them were cooped up together until the weather felt more inclined to allow them to leave.

Clyde and Sam, coming from a back bedroom where they'd been setting up extra beds, strode into the hallway just as Dorothy and Charlie were leaving her room, taking turns in the descent down the stairs.

"Ma sounds upset. I wonder what she- holy wet hen! What do we have here?" Clyde jumped down the last few steps, "Where'd all these lovelies come from?" A grin perked the corner of his lips as he made a starting effort of introducing himself to all of the women in the room, none recognizable due to reddened cheeks, mussed hair, and winter garments.

I ain't seen so many bodies in this house since all my children were home, Sam mused. Apparently more than one car had lost itself conveniently near their farm. Well, he always did appreciate a full house. But it would mean they needed more than one bird in the oven. "Charlie, you ready to catch your first hen? Any other willing men can follow me out to the coop. Back door's snowed in though, so we'll have to go out the front and work our way around."

"Great idea, Sam. If you plan on staying tonight ladies, Alanna and Dorothy can show you up to the attic to fetch some extra matresses and blankets for this slumber party we're about to have. Best be quick, though. I'll need you to help pluck the chickens when you're finished. The name's Alice, by the way." And with that said, she turned back into the kitchen to expand her preparations to include enough food for at least twenty.

Dorothy relinquished Charlie to the chicken collecting efforts, and tried to figure out why a few of these faces looked so familiar, "Why if it isn't...Remy? Fiona? How...what...and Adrian, was it? Lordy, was there a farm tour bus that broke down around here or somethin'. Hey look, more headlights!" Out the front window, another car could be seen approaching the Knutson farmstead.

Tip jar: the author of this post has received 0.00 INK in return for their work.

User avatar
whiteangel
Member for 16 years
Conversation Starter Conversationalist Friendly Beginnings Lifegiver

Re: Life Noir: Night at the Knutsons'

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Walter Barrecks on Sat May 30, 2009 6:56 pm

"I would hope, maybe dere will be a soft pile of hay." The snow was more fascinating when it wasn't filling his eyes and falling into his clothing. Cool flakes were melting on his flesh. He fought off shivering while he pushed through the winds and ice with Fiona. Eventually after a short but painful walk, he stood at the door, close to knocking when the door opened for him, a woman in view.

"Bonjour madame, I was wond-" Fiona began to fall, and through means of being gripped, so was he. Considering she was Lady Luck, he crashed to the floor first, just in time to break her fall. "Strong winds..." While there, he felt more snow pelting his face, followed by his coat. Muffled under it, he replied. "Oui, close enough, although it'd be better if we laid by da fire." He bit down on his coat and moved it enough to poke his head out. Remy took note of the many people within this house, interested by exactly who was here.

"Ma cherie... what hav' we stumbled into to?" He realized at about this time he was his hand was resting on Miss Muirenn's rump.

Tip jar: the author of this post has received 0.00 INK in return for their work.

Walter Barrecks
Member for 17 years
Conversation Starter Conversationalist

Re: Life Noir: Night at the Knutsons'

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Jadeling Hawkins on Sat May 30, 2009 11:24 pm

"Sure thing, Alice," Charlie replied good-naturedly, looking pityingly at the large group that had joined the Knutsons. He followed Sam to the door, retrieving his heavy trench coat in preparation for the walk from the house to the chicken coop. He'd been out there before, but this would indeed be his first attempt at catching his own dinner. Unless you counted that time a bum had stolen his groceries from in front of his house while he fumbled for his keys.

Upon stepping outside, he took note of yet another vehicle coming towards the house...but it was far too cold to wait around for them, so Charlie pulled his collar up tight around his ears and struggled against the winds to follow Sam towards the coop.



"Chicken...wait...what? Birdie?" Fi blinked and shook her head once more, propping herself up on her elbows and making no move to rise from her Cajun platform. The green eyed dish in front of her was, in fact, little miss Birdie herself. But what was the snazzy dame doing way out in the sticks?

The woman that seemed to be in charge was quick to establish some kind of order. It seemed that the kindly busybody was even going to provide dinner for her unexpected guest...but what was that she said about plucking a bird? A semi-horrified look passed over Fiona's semi-frozen face at the thought. Fiona had plucked bullets out of living people's squirming legs, sewn her partner's gaping knife wound shut, and more than once shoved her own dislocated fingers back into joint when on the run. But that was in the city. The nice, classy, safe, criminal city. Plucking feathers from a dead bird, though?? The horror! Who were these people?!

"That...sounds...nice..." Fiona managed to speak without gagging. A sudden movement caused her to stiffen up, however, and she twisted to glare at the man who was grabbing her posterior. She quirked one brow, and from her position dug her elbow into his side (she might have gone for a more sensitive area, but there were people watching). "Honestly, Remy, in front of the kids?"

Without waiting for an answer she lightly slapped his hand away and shoved herself up, being sure to squish him with her knees and hands wherever appropriate. Straightening herself out and smoothing out her hair, Fiona took a composing breath and faced Dorothy. "So, Birdie. It's just ducky seeing you again. Did you get stuck out here as well?"



"Even better, let's just buy a house while we're out here and turn it into our winter cottage!" Jo cracked right back, bundled up as tightly as she could get in her seat. Jo did not handle cold well. Even wearing a skirt that went straight down to her ankles didn't do much to keep her legs warm, and the leather gloves she was wearing were hardly as warm as she had been promised they would be. The nerve of that Edison! The least he could have done was wait to grant Goldie and herself a vacation once the weather wasn't monstrous!

As they pulled up to the farm house out in the middle of nowhere, Jo was half-tempted to jump out the window and bolt for the nearest door, offering to sell Ben as cheap labor if it got her somewhere warm to thaw out. But she and Ben had been through it together lately, so she decided she'd at least give him a chance to earn his keep on his own.

"C-C-C-Come on, G-Goldie!" Jo chattered, grabbing onto his arm and holding on to him like a big, lanky wind blocker. The pair made it to the door, their tracks disappearing under the snow even as their feet lifted from them. To her great relief, they didn't have to spend any amount of time banging on the door pleading for entry, as it was opened and the wind swept them inside. The owners of the place must have seen them driving up.

Tip jar: the author of this post has received 0.00 INK in return for their work.

Jadeling Hawkins
Member for 17 years
Promethean Conversation Starter Author Inspiration Conversationalist Friendly Beginnings Donated! Lifegiver Tipworthy Tipworthy Tipworthy Tipworthy

Re: Life Noir: Night at the Knutsons'

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Kohananinja on Sun May 31, 2009 12:26 am

The Dawson’s weren’t kept waiting long in the cold, as they were quickly ushered in as well, and to Adrian’s pleasant surprise, she happened to know quite a few of the occupants. It was hard to make out the wind swept faces of the others that had come in before them at first, but the Cajun accent of the man on bottom was rather unmistakeable to her, especially when he had such a familiar face.

“Well I’ll be, Remy, Fiona, is that you?” Adrian asked with a bit of a chuckle as she lightly shook some of the snow from her dark curls. She quickly got her answer, when another familiar face called them one in the same. “In the flesh. Good to see you again, though I’ve got to say I’m a bit surprised. Didn’t expect to meet anyone I knew when Gordie’s car broke down. Good to see you too pear boy.” Adrian said grinning a bit at the familiar fruit stand Dame she’d met a while back and her flirtatious brother. “You remember the brother I was telling you about right?” Adrian asked inclining up to her brother, who was setting down their baby sister on the now snowless terrain.

“You know them Addy?” Gordie asked curiously, looking around at the rather large group that had gathered, those his eyes lingered a bit on the rather nice looking blond sprawled out on top of an all-too-willing-to-be-her-cushion man. He held back a bit of a laugh as he watched the petit, but fiery blond elbow the Cajun who’d had a grab on her pretty little behind. He’d always liked a woman who could smack a man around a little and put him in his place when the occasion called for it, and often times they were packing a few guns as well. Though he didn’t know it at that moment, Gordie was following his normal suit.

“’Course ma’am, we’ll be happy to oblige seeing as your kind enough to let us stay the night." Gordie said, feeling the need to thank their hosts. “Well, I better get out there and help them catch those chickens. Nice to meet you all.” Gordie said flashing his most charming smile to the group (mainly Fiona) before heading after Charlie and Mr. Knutson.

“So how many birds are we talking here Mrs....um
Knutson right?” Adrian asked, not at all shaken by the idea of de-feathering her meal. After gutting more than her fair share of fish, and helping turn a live sheep into mutton stew in Abu’s tribe (though she’d not exactly revelled in that rather nauseating task) there was little that put her off when it came to food preparation.

Kathy however, mentally shuttered at the thought of plucking feathers out of a dead bird. It wasn’t that she was lazy, or not handy in the kitchen (Actually she prided herself on being a very good cook at home.), it was that the bird was dead, and she was going to be seeing its face, or lack there of. She didn’t deal with dead things well, she’d been around them her whole life. Dead mother, family obsessed with dead people, father’s friends with dead animals mantled on the wall (eww), and last but certainly not least, dead boyfriend. Dead stunk. Quite literally, as she’d found out in her brief time in Egypt, before her father had come to his senses and brought then back to civilisation, one not teeming with camels that it.

“Well, that just sounds like the cat’s meow
” Kathy said weakly, not looking forward to the bird de-feathering one bit.
Last edited by Kohananinja on Sun May 31, 2009 10:51 pm, edited 2 times in total.

Tip jar: the author of this post has received 0.00 INK in return for their work.

User avatar
Kohananinja
Member for 16 years
Promethean Conversation Starter Author Inspiration Conversationalist Friendly Beginnings Novelist Lifegiver Tipworthy Tipworthy Giver

Re: Life Noir: Night at the Knutsons'

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Phedre on Sun May 31, 2009 11:14 am

Maddie had been watching the passing cars with interest out of the frosty window. It seemed there were a few brave ones out there...and they all happened to be at the Knutson's. She saw the lights on and wondered if maybe they were having a party. But her family would have surely been invited if they were. Their families were so close, it would have unthinkable not to invite them! Right?

"Hey Hugh? Are the Knutson's having a party?"

Hugh answered around his bite of buscuit. "I do- think sho. Why?"

"There's a few cars over there and I was wondering if maybe they were having a party. Although tonight is a pretty odd night to have a party. But why are there so many people over there? Do you suppose everything is alright?"

Hugh came over to the window she was sitting by and peaked through the cotton shades. He did indeed see a few cars and all the lights on. His brow furrowed trying to think of what would be going on. The weather was certainly not conducive to being out.

"Well. I don't know. Maybe there being robbed or something," Hugh joked. Maddie's eyes got wide at the thought. She saw his cheeky grin and smacked his arm.

"Don't even say that! Do you suppose we should go over and see what's going on?"

Hugh looked outside and raised one eyebrow at her.

"Only if you want to freeze to death on the way over there."

Maddie made a face and then shrugged. "I suppose."
All knowledge is worth having.

Tip jar: the author of this post has received 0.00 INK in return for their work.

User avatar
Phedre
Member for 16 years
Conversation Starter Conversationalist Friendly Beginnings

Re: Life Noir: Night at the Knutsons'

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby daughterofdon on Sun May 31, 2009 8:23 pm

Before Lance or Morgana could make any response to the Dawson siblings, the door opened and they were pulled into the farmhouse by a pair of strong arms. Morgana was unhappy, being hauled about like a sack of potatoes and having her fur coat ruffled. Lance was afflicted with momentary snow blindness, and was blinking the blizzard-induced tears from his eyes. He did not recognize the person who had pulled them in until he heard her unmistakable voice.

“Al--” he began with a smile of recognition. The rest of her name was muffled by Morgana’s mink coat as she passed it in front of his face to hang on the nearby coat rack. By the time the fur was hung and out of his face, Alanna was opening the door for yet more people to be blown in. The former sergeant recognized them quickly: Remy Bruyere and Fiona Muirenn.

Lance yanked his knit tuque a little lower over his eyes. He doubted he would ever be at ease around Fiona—not after what had happened the night of their one date. Or what had almost happened. Luckily, it seemed she had moved on to another lawman, Remy, who had a hand on her rear. Lance quickly looked away, like he had not noticed. But while he was pretending not to notice, he happened to notice the fellow Gordie (who he had not yet met, formally) taking especial notice of the Cajun’s grope and smiling at Fiona. Well, that’s a bit slimey
 Lance couldn’t help but think. Maybe he was totally wrong about the guy, but already assumed that he was a leering son-of-a-gun.

Then the Knutsons appeared and seemed mostly agreeable about feeding and housing all of their sudden guests—if they all agreed to pitch in. It sounded like Alanna would be needed in raiding the attic, and Lance, being an able-bodied fellow, the chicken coop. But he wasn’t about to go back outside without properly greeting Alanna.

“Honey!” he grabbed her before she could take off anywhere. “Did you not even recognize me?” He sought some privacy with her by shuffling behind the coat rack and using Morgana’s humongous coat as something of a curtain. “I came all this way—through this weather—to make sure you were safe and warm
” His eyes were big, brown and lovey-dovey, but his mouth turned wry when he thought about how he might have liked it better if he had had to perform some heroic feat of blizzard-daring madness in order to rescue his baby.

Morgana, in the mean, was eyeing the group with interest. Defeathering a hen sounded marvelous—she could use a few extra chicken feet for charms (maybe she could sell one to the Cajun), and keep a few feathers for her own uses. But until the hen was caught, she observed a young man—Clyde—making his rounds of introducing himself to all the ladies. Any other woman her age (mid-fifties) would have felt too old to be among such fetching young folks, most of them barely into their twenties. But Morgana drew in a youthful breath and smoothed her dark hair and her stylish smock and crimson dress that she had been concealing under her fur coat. Then she leaned with one hand on her hip and gave the excited Knutson son a little wink.

Tip jar: the author of this post has received 0.00 INK in return for their work.

User avatar
daughterofdon
Member for 16 years
Promethean Conversation Starter Author Inspiration Conversationalist Friendly Beginnings Novelist Lifegiver

Re: Life Noir: Night at the Knutsons'

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Walter Barrecks on Mon Jun 01, 2009 6:12 pm

The night crowd of New York seemed to be neatly gathering into a room or two. It didn't bother or discourage him from his normal behavior, which was being demonstrated by any looking at the two on the floor. When begun to glare, he responded with a flirtatious grin. He tried to shrug off the urge to wince with her elbow planted in his side. "Why, what's wrong with in front of da kids?" Remy's speech broke a few times due to Fiona's retaliation. "Hel- I found my wa- into- a brothel when- I was seven-ow... be gentile, ma cherie."

Finally when he was free to move, he stood up, and hung his coat. "Oui, nice to see ya Adrian. Jus' happened to get caught. Enchante Gordon." Remy extended his to Gordie, still examining the area. Shit... I gotta watch my behavior a little... The Cajun noted the several men accompanying the women, his theoretical boss, and all the faces were people he'd met one way or another. What scared him the most was that of Morgana's presence. Mental note: Don't piss off da witch doctor."Wow, I wouldn't be surprised if Kitty or family appeared."

"What's that Rem?*Ah-chu*" In through the door came a certain Kitten, sneezing rather quietly. "I got lost on the roads after work... What's your story?" She started to unbutton her coat, but was hesitant to remove the blue, snow covered, blanket sized article. This was for a probably obvious reasons. Instead, she merely shook the ice off.

"Car trouble. You wearin' da usual?" He gestured toward her frame, nodding along with her. "Yeah, we'll see if we can get you som't'in' to wear. Don't want you to be wet an' cold all nigh'."

Kitty's eyes lite up. "Aww, how cute, you worried 'bout me catchin' a cold." She jumped up, wrapping arms around him. On instinct he caught her and held her up. "Do you want to be my warm comforter?"

He nervously moved his eyes back and forth looking for Fiona. "Yeah, maybe later."

Tip jar: the author of this post has received 0.00 INK in return for their work.

Walter Barrecks
Member for 17 years
Conversation Starter Conversationalist

Re: Life Noir: Night at the Knutsons'

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Jadeling Hawkins on Mon Jun 01, 2009 8:26 pm

Fiona allowed her eyes to follow the tall glass of water that Adrian, that girl she'd met the morning of her balancing act on the insurance building, had come in with. He certainly wasn't painful to look at...and he had certainly given her a healthy once-over. It was nice to be appreciated by a handsome pair of eyes every now and then.

But Fiona's returning of the good-natured leer was cut short by the arrival of yet another ((OOC: and the final, including Ben and Jo)) guest. It was, of all people, Kitty.

Fiona was still of the opinion that Kitty was an overall swell dame. She was hardworking (in a manner of speaking) and had built her place up from scratch and kept it going all this time. But seeing the bubbly Kitty throw her paws all over the Cajun dick put a knot in Fiona's mental workings. She scowled at Remy when she noticed his nervous glance at her, and was hard put not to scoop some of the snow off of Kitty's coat and shove it down the back of Remy's shirt. At length she decided to simply grab him by the back of his collar and tug him firmly out of Kitty's grasp. "Come on, Detective. It looks like us girls have some attic-snooping to do. Unless you want to sleep on a slab of ice while your being Kitty's 'warm comforter.'"

And Fiona dragged Remy backwards, following Dorothy's directions up towards the attic. She stopped halfway up to flash the most tender-hearted smile she had ever smiled at anyone, aiming it at Alice Knutson. "Ma'am, thank you so very much for allowing us to find refuge in your home. It's extremely kind of you."

Then she gave Remy's collar a sharp tug, dragging him further up the stairs and muttering a sharp "Come on!"


"Hey, wha-?!" Alanna half-yelped as she found herself whirl-winded away from the increasingly growing ((but seriously, that's enough people XD)) crowd. She blinked several times as she found herself facing a scruffy, excited, doe-eyed...it was Lance! Lance after a very bad week, but Lance just the same! And it seemed he was there with the sole purpose of ensuring her comfort.

Alanna was struck with a rapid-fire of emotions, each of which took a turn expressing themselves on her face. First, surprise at Lance's presence. Second, glee from seeing him for the first time all week. Third, concern that he had risked the weather. Fourth, realization as it dawned on her that she really hadn't seen him in a week. Fifth, sharp irritation when she realized that it had been a full week! And if her expressions weren't enough, she vocalized her thought process quite clearly.

"Lance? I don't believe it! Horsefeathers, it's awful good to see you! You came all the way out here? But you coulda got stuck an' froze out there, applesauce, you know better than that, honey! But you look so hang-dog...Crimony, I haven't seen you in a week...Lance, I haven't seen you in a week! Where have you been? Why haven't you returned my calls? I was worried about you, you clunk-head!" And she clunked his head to drive the point home.

Tip jar: the author of this post has received 0.00 INK in return for their work.

Jadeling Hawkins
Member for 17 years
Promethean Conversation Starter Author Inspiration Conversationalist Friendly Beginnings Donated! Lifegiver Tipworthy Tipworthy Tipworthy Tipworthy

Re: Life Noir: Night at the Knutsons'

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby whiteangel on Mon Jun 01, 2009 9:17 pm

Dorothy felt superbly windswept and she hadn't even been outside. Here she thought it was an uncomfortable balance trying to swoon fellers in a speakeasy while dating a cop-gone-detective, but it was near impossible to know how to react with a whole onslaught of members from either faction of her life. Her family who (other than Clyde) didn't know from nothing about her singing days along with Sergeant Knightly and the produce stall crowd, Charlie and Remy who rode the fence knowing about both, and Fiona whom only knew of her flapper as Birdie the dame who'd turned her down for a gig.

Could it get any more complicated? Dorothy wondered.

"Right, er, this way. This is my parent's place, by the way." She offered as means of explanation. Why else would she be in some country bumpkin farm? Oh wait, so were many others who didn't normally belong. She began to wonder where they'd keep them all. As the slumber party assemblers reached the second floor landing, Dorothy reached for a cord hanging from the ceiling. Once pulled, it tugged a rickety ladder down with it that was strewn with cob webs the size of pancakes... manhole sized pancakes, that is. "Maybe Remy should, well...if the ladies...it's just-"

If the ladies were to ascend the vertical rungs first, the detective Fiona had pulled along would have a front row view up all of their skirts. Dorothy doubted that he would mind, but gestured for him to lead the way, "I don't say this often, but gentlemen first!"


Sam, ever the man of few words, did a terrible job of warning the following fellows of deep holes beneath snow drifts, low hanging eaves along the side of the darkened house, unrooted tree stumps burried in white, and the such. Consequently, he responded to 'ouches' and 'oofs' with 'whoopsies' and tardy 'watch-er-there's.

Despite the arduous trek, the brave and fearless man horde arrived before the chicken coop. From external appearances it seemed small, rickety, and relatively harmless. The innards of the shack would prove differently.

"On three I'll swing 'er open and shove one of you in. Avoid the beaks. Aim for the legs. And don't be afraid to squawk back. THREE!" Sam yanked the door against the blustery wind, clapped a hand heavy with momentum upon the nearest back, and shoved the unlucky first victim inside. Sam slapped the door back into its frame, and eyed the next shivering man, "You're next."


Alice clucked her tongue (much like the chickens currently in shock at their newest bombarding visitor), realizing that she hadn't any hands to help her downstairs. Preparing all of the bedding wouldn't be a quick task, and she hustled back into the entry way in hopes of finding a straggler or even another new arrival. Sure enough, she arrived just in time to see Alanna clobber a scruffy man over the head. He didn't look harmful, so she didn't worry about running to rescue the blonde lass. Clyde and a middle aged looking woman remained as well.

"Perfect! In the kitchen with ya. We've got potatoes to peel, onions to chop, and dressing to well- dress!" Alice clapped her hands together delightfully, and turned with the expectation that they would follow.

Tip jar: the author of this post has received 0.00 INK in return for their work.

User avatar
whiteangel
Member for 16 years
Conversation Starter Conversationalist Friendly Beginnings Lifegiver

Re: Life Noir: Night at the Knutsons'

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Irish Wolf on Mon Jun 01, 2009 11:45 pm

The black Cadillac Type V-63 stood out in the piling snow like a black sheep in the flock, as it pushed it's way down the scenic route from the city of Boston in the north and the bustling sprawl of New York in the south. Its blanket shawled driver cursed softly, as his chilled fingers gripped the wheel, like they had been frozen there and hoped the soft, vile words he shouldn't have known, didn't wake the two passengers behind him. If his mother found out, and the boss would tell her, he was in for a switching and a mouth full of soap but what did she expect when he worked for rumrunners, gundealers and gamblers?

Patrick O'Keefe stirred sightly, under the blanket he had draped over himself and the lovely but not so lady-like woman he was traveling with. His brothers and ma hadn't believed him, when he had phoned them the good news of his finally taking an interest in dating. They had demanded proof, they had demanded he appear with the woman in tow in their residence in South Boston, which was the only reason he was out in the cold winter night, instead of curled up in bed, in New York and with the lovely Brigit Muirenn to make sure it was warm.

Finn, in all his thirteen-year old splendor, watched as the lights of a nearby farmhouse passed by in the dark, as the car slowly drifted into the other lane. Not that such a mistake could have been made miles ago, when the snow hid the road from view. As the boy driver's eyes returned to the road, they bulged passed the dark circles the surround them. There, just barely illuminated by the headlights, was a parked car. Even if the snow wasn't blocking any attempt's at fast swerving, it was too close.

"Horsefeathers" Shouted the boy, as the two cars collided with a horrid screech of metal against metal and a jarring impact threw his scrawny chest into the wheel. Suddenly, the Cadillac tilted to the left, as the left front wheel popped off. In the back, the two passengers were lifted from their snuggle in the seat and were tossed against driver's seat like rag dolls.

"Everyone alright" asked Patrick, in a pained voice, as he struggled to free himself from the tangle of his and his girl's body, with the blanket to add a little fun.

Finn groaned his response.
Image
Its easy to be brave behind a castle wall
Twelve highlanders and a bagpipe make a rebellion
A king's son is no nobler then the food he eats

Tip jar: the author of this post has received 0.00 INK in return for their work.

Irish Wolf
Contributor
Contributor
Member for 16 years
Promethean Conversation Starter Author Inspiration Conversationalist Friendly Beginnings Donated! Lifegiver

Re: Life Noir: Night at the Knutsons'

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Phedre on Tue Jun 02, 2009 12:32 am

Maddie continued to watch out of the window, sipping a mug of hot tea. Her interest in the Knutson situation was growing by the minute and we watched in fascination as yet another car made it's way toward the neighbor's farm. Then she watched in horror as the oncoming car collided with one of the many cars pareked in front of the Knutson residence. She gasped in shock and dismay as the vehicle lost a wheel and the car tipped.

"O mother of Judah! Did you see that Hugh?! That car just hit that other car and lost a wheel!" Maddie was on her feet in a millisecond and heading toward the mudroom to throw on her warmest coat and some boots to go see if the inhabitants of the vehicle were alright.

"Hugh! Come with me to see if they're ok!"

Hugh was washing his plate in the kitchen when he heard Maddie gasp in the living room. He figured she had just spilled her hot tea on herself or something equally stupid, but he stuck his head in the living room just in case. When she asked if he had seen the crash, Hugh rolled his eyes at her.

"How in the heck would I have seen a car crash from the kitchen? Sometimes Maddie, I don't think you have any more sense then a peahen." When he saw her rushing to the mudroom and heard her demands that he venture out into this doozy of a snowstorm, Hugh shook his head.

"No way am I going out there. You won't even be able to see the hands in front of your face let alone find a car out there."

"Not so!" retaliated Maddie, as she was buttoning her coat up. "If I can see the Knutson's lights from here I can find the car. I saw it crash didn't I? Now come out there with me. What if someone is hurt and I can't lift 'em?"

Hugh sighed, then returned to the kitchen to set his wet dish in the sink. He strode over to the stairs and shouted, "Ma! Dad! Maddie and I are going over to the Knutson's!"

He heard a faint 'OK' as he headed over to the small room Maddie was in, by this time putting on her scarf and mittens. Hugh grabbed his coat as well, putting it on without buttoning it. He then pulled on the bright red hat and mittens Maddie had lovingly crocheted for him last Christmas.

Maddie smiled up at her brother then hugged him on an impulse. "Thanks. You ready?"

Hugh nodded ans opened the door. They were greeted by a blast of freezing air and a flurry of snowflakes. Hugh's eyes instantly quinted as they started watering from the bite of the cold. He ducked his head as he stepped outside, his feet crunching in the fresh snow.

Maddie followed close behind, her head ducked as well against the biting wind. She followed in Hugh's fresh footsteps, the snow reaching to her shins as they trecked their way toward the cars in front of the Kunton's. They soon reached the tipped vehicle and Maddie rushed over to the driver's side as Hugh headed to the passenger's side.

Maddie ducked her head near the window, then knocked before hollering, "Are you guys ok? Is anybody hurt?"

Tip jar: the author of this post has received 0.00 INK in return for their work.

User avatar
Phedre
Member for 16 years
Conversation Starter Conversationalist Friendly Beginnings

Next

Post a reply

Make a Donation

$

RPG relies exclusively on user donations to support the platform.

Donors earn the "Contributor" achievement and are permanently recognized in the credits. Consider donating today!

 

Who is online

Registered users: AlexBlair6, DobleJJ, Google [Bot], mahormonu81, Majestic-12 [Bot], sefat343