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Aislinn Hayes
[abandoned]
0 · 228 views · located in 
Brooklyn, New York
a character in “Club Utopia”, originally authored by ibecameinsane, as played by RolePlayGateway
Groups
Description
So begins...
Aislinn Hayes's Story
- Seen 7 Times • Page 1 of 1
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The streets of Brooklyn were cold and dark that night, the only pedestrians out being the sort that knew how not to lose themselves in a twisting labyrinth of ever narrower, Stygian streets and alleyways. Utopia was waiting for them right around the next bend, forever roaming; the only constant in it's surroundings being the fat, impregnated moon peaking through thick cloud cover hanging overhead.
Magnus Bane's smalt hair reflected the changing neon colors of a human club sign: the words Ecclesia Peccatoris lined in Carmine red, Indigo blue, and metallic gold. This nightclub consisted of a big, tightly packed space that's bare bones resembled that of an ancient church, though that was from design for no church had ever been built on the corner of Amity and Court. Stained-glass windows rose high up in the walls, painting everything beneath them in hues of rose. Darting colored spotlights picked out the blissed-out faces of dancers in the churning crowd, lighting them up one at a time in shades of Amaranth pink, Harlequin green, and Mauve violet. There was a DJ booth along one wall, and trance music blasted from the speakers. The music pounded up through his feet, into his blood, vibrating his bones. The room was hot with the press of bodies and the smell of sweat and smoke and liquor.
He propelled forward, through the dancers; the mortal crowd seemed to part like the sea around the hull of a ship, people looking up to glance at Magnus, then dropping their gazes, backing away out of instinct though they knew nothing of his power or otherworldliness. Something was to be said about mankind and their intuition. On the far side of the room, there was an archway that all of the human club goers seemed not to notice or pay any heed to. Through it a set of stairs led downward, curving away into darkness. Magnus descended steadily, graceful and sure-footed, not worried about slipping on the age-smoothed stones. The air grew cooler the further down he traversed, and the sound of the pounding music faded. The only noise left was the sound of his own breathing, devoid of company save for his shadow thrown, distorted and spindly, against the walls.
The new music bled into his hearing before he ever reached the bottom of the stairs. It had an even more insistent beat than the music in the mortal club. A small cock-sure grin stretched across his face as he entered his Utopia.
Everything was stone, the walls bumpy and uneven, the floor smooth beneath his feet. Huge marble fountains sprayed sparkling water; Electric blue rose petals drifting on the surface. Explosions of color and light burst like cherry bombs throughout the room, nothing like the artificial light upstairs—these were beautiful, effervescent like fireworks that floated on the air, and every time one burst, it rained down a glittering shimmer onto the dancing crowd below. The dancers themselves—whirling and spinning and clapping—none of them were human.
Even a mortal would be able to sense the nonhuman-ness of the people in the room, the vampires with their pallor and their swift and languid grace, the werewolves fierce and fast. Most were young, dancing close, writhing up and down each other’s bodies. Another explosion of colored light lit up the darkness above them. Metallic drops rained down; catching in their hair and shimmering on bare skin like mercury. Magnus swiped at the silvery liquid that mixed with his hair and skin, painting him in metal as he watched the elated crowd with darkened eyes. The faces of the dancers around him to any human might look vulpine and faintly frightening, but to him they were just darkly beautiful. They were venerable and entranced. The platinum droplets were a mild hallucinogenic, the effect being like that of a cross between ecstasy and mushrooms if it got into your mouth. It was something he had whipped up with the use of some Fae blood, charitably donated of course to cover some old debts owed to him by a Fae lord.
Magnus drew toward one of the fountains in the middle of the room, and sat down on the wide marble edge, leaning over and studying the smooth dark surface of the pool. He could see his own face reflected back at him, his normally yellow cat irises turned an array of fractured colors by the peculiar light in the club like the bright pieces inside a kaleidoscope, his eye makeup smudged like bruises, his hair artfully unkempt. The water shivered apart, his reflection distorting, unrecognizable, the surface broken by a kelpie serpentinely smiling up at him. They were small, and could easily fit in the palm of your hand if you desired to scoop one up...but Magnus knew better, they were all shark sharp grins and razor teeth and like pixies, they had quite the temper. She had an upper body that resembled a human's but her lower half was like that of a seahorse. The incandescent creatures hair spun around her like the filaments of luminous jellyfish as she played with one of the floating blue rose petals, dancing with it like it was her partner.
Magnus turned from her as she swam away and leaned back, his hands braced behind him on the fountain’s edge, his smile like the edge of a straight razor and devilishly wicked. He had done well with his choice of setting tonight, he was pleased with the over all effect. Another ball of colored light burst above his head, scattering silver, drops of the metallic liquid spangling his thick eyelashes. He decided to remain there and study the moving crowd for a short while, watching couples of twos and threes vanish into the shadowy alcoves that lined the walls. There were dozens of these circular alcoves, some armed with small loveseats in a lovely deep shade of royal blue, others with circular velvet beds but they all provided the clubers with a heavy curtain that could be pulled closed to provide a modicum of privacy. It also succeeded in discreetly muffling the pounding music outside, though by no means did it make it inaudible. He felt a pang in his chest, a stab like a knife being drug against the insides of his rib cage. How many years had it been since he had taken a lover? How long had it been since he slunk away to the nearest hiding place so that he might just steal a second alone with someone? A warlocks curse was, you either outlived everyone or they lived just long enough to distort themselves into something unrecognizable.
Magnus Bane's smalt hair reflected the changing neon colors of a human club sign: the words Ecclesia Peccatoris lined in Carmine red, Indigo blue, and metallic gold. This nightclub consisted of a big, tightly packed space that's bare bones resembled that of an ancient church, though that was from design for no church had ever been built on the corner of Amity and Court. Stained-glass windows rose high up in the walls, painting everything beneath them in hues of rose. Darting colored spotlights picked out the blissed-out faces of dancers in the churning crowd, lighting them up one at a time in shades of Amaranth pink, Harlequin green, and Mauve violet. There was a DJ booth along one wall, and trance music blasted from the speakers. The music pounded up through his feet, into his blood, vibrating his bones. The room was hot with the press of bodies and the smell of sweat and smoke and liquor.
He propelled forward, through the dancers; the mortal crowd seemed to part like the sea around the hull of a ship, people looking up to glance at Magnus, then dropping their gazes, backing away out of instinct though they knew nothing of his power or otherworldliness. Something was to be said about mankind and their intuition. On the far side of the room, there was an archway that all of the human club goers seemed not to notice or pay any heed to. Through it a set of stairs led downward, curving away into darkness. Magnus descended steadily, graceful and sure-footed, not worried about slipping on the age-smoothed stones. The air grew cooler the further down he traversed, and the sound of the pounding music faded. The only noise left was the sound of his own breathing, devoid of company save for his shadow thrown, distorted and spindly, against the walls.
The new music bled into his hearing before he ever reached the bottom of the stairs. It had an even more insistent beat than the music in the mortal club. A small cock-sure grin stretched across his face as he entered his Utopia.
Everything was stone, the walls bumpy and uneven, the floor smooth beneath his feet. Huge marble fountains sprayed sparkling water; Electric blue rose petals drifting on the surface. Explosions of color and light burst like cherry bombs throughout the room, nothing like the artificial light upstairs—these were beautiful, effervescent like fireworks that floated on the air, and every time one burst, it rained down a glittering shimmer onto the dancing crowd below. The dancers themselves—whirling and spinning and clapping—none of them were human.
Even a mortal would be able to sense the nonhuman-ness of the people in the room, the vampires with their pallor and their swift and languid grace, the werewolves fierce and fast. Most were young, dancing close, writhing up and down each other’s bodies. Another explosion of colored light lit up the darkness above them. Metallic drops rained down; catching in their hair and shimmering on bare skin like mercury. Magnus swiped at the silvery liquid that mixed with his hair and skin, painting him in metal as he watched the elated crowd with darkened eyes. The faces of the dancers around him to any human might look vulpine and faintly frightening, but to him they were just darkly beautiful. They were venerable and entranced. The platinum droplets were a mild hallucinogenic, the effect being like that of a cross between ecstasy and mushrooms if it got into your mouth. It was something he had whipped up with the use of some Fae blood, charitably donated of course to cover some old debts owed to him by a Fae lord.
Magnus drew toward one of the fountains in the middle of the room, and sat down on the wide marble edge, leaning over and studying the smooth dark surface of the pool. He could see his own face reflected back at him, his normally yellow cat irises turned an array of fractured colors by the peculiar light in the club like the bright pieces inside a kaleidoscope, his eye makeup smudged like bruises, his hair artfully unkempt. The water shivered apart, his reflection distorting, unrecognizable, the surface broken by a kelpie serpentinely smiling up at him. They were small, and could easily fit in the palm of your hand if you desired to scoop one up...but Magnus knew better, they were all shark sharp grins and razor teeth and like pixies, they had quite the temper. She had an upper body that resembled a human's but her lower half was like that of a seahorse. The incandescent creatures hair spun around her like the filaments of luminous jellyfish as she played with one of the floating blue rose petals, dancing with it like it was her partner.
Magnus turned from her as she swam away and leaned back, his hands braced behind him on the fountain’s edge, his smile like the edge of a straight razor and devilishly wicked. He had done well with his choice of setting tonight, he was pleased with the over all effect. Another ball of colored light burst above his head, scattering silver, drops of the metallic liquid spangling his thick eyelashes. He decided to remain there and study the moving crowd for a short while, watching couples of twos and threes vanish into the shadowy alcoves that lined the walls. There were dozens of these circular alcoves, some armed with small loveseats in a lovely deep shade of royal blue, others with circular velvet beds but they all provided the clubers with a heavy curtain that could be pulled closed to provide a modicum of privacy. It also succeeded in discreetly muffling the pounding music outside, though by no means did it make it inaudible. He felt a pang in his chest, a stab like a knife being drug against the insides of his rib cage. How many years had it been since he had taken a lover? How long had it been since he slunk away to the nearest hiding place so that he might just steal a second alone with someone? A warlocks curse was, you either outlived everyone or they lived just long enough to distort themselves into something unrecognizable.
The setting changes from Brooklyn, New York to Utopia NightClub
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The night bled into day as all the creatures intermingling in the underground club partied well into the morning hours. Ignatius Perrish discovered he had made an unusual contact in the form of a nymph, and left the bar not feeling quite as dejected as he'd of had had he made no acquaintance. Any new contact was a step in the right direction on the search for his family's killer, and if he was being completely honest with himself, he felt a tad less lonely having shared the evening with someone other than his guilty conscience--even if it was only for a short while and at the expense of his coat.
Magnus Bane had spent a socially acceptable amount of time with the ever incorrigible Mr. Bekham before he concluded his own night on the dance floor and ventured into one of the many sealed doors in the backroom of Utopia where a king bed rested with proverbial open arms, waiting to envelop the warlock, inviting him to sleep. Exhaustion weighed heavy on him that evening, more so than it had in a millennium and it had nothing to do with his vigorous dancing. So many questions that vampire had posed, all about Magnus' solitary life style. It felt as if Magnus was made to poke his tongue over a hole where a tooth had once been, reminded of it's absence in a sore fashion. He flopped on the mattress with a doleful sigh, surrounded by a mountain of feathered pillows and lost in the rolling waves of his crimson downy duvet he finally found rest.
There had been heated arguments and passionate elicit exchanges made in Utopia that night, but then again their always were. This was not a place of quiescence even if it acted as some sort of haven to the supernatural society. As the elated and blissed crowd funneled out into the streets with twilight blossoming overhead, dawn fast approaching, there was a sense of excitement over what the next night would offer up. The club would be of a different theme, as it always was, and be in a new location; ever changing like the fads and times around widely the immortal beings. One thing was for certain though, there would never be a dull moment if the High Warlock of Brooklyn was throwing a party. What sensation wasn't plaguing the lascivious clubers however, was the impending sense of doom...they had no idea what was truly just around the corner and what it had in store for all of the mystical creatures of New York.
Magnus Bane had spent a socially acceptable amount of time with the ever incorrigible Mr. Bekham before he concluded his own night on the dance floor and ventured into one of the many sealed doors in the backroom of Utopia where a king bed rested with proverbial open arms, waiting to envelop the warlock, inviting him to sleep. Exhaustion weighed heavy on him that evening, more so than it had in a millennium and it had nothing to do with his vigorous dancing. So many questions that vampire had posed, all about Magnus' solitary life style. It felt as if Magnus was made to poke his tongue over a hole where a tooth had once been, reminded of it's absence in a sore fashion. He flopped on the mattress with a doleful sigh, surrounded by a mountain of feathered pillows and lost in the rolling waves of his crimson downy duvet he finally found rest.
There had been heated arguments and passionate elicit exchanges made in Utopia that night, but then again their always were. This was not a place of quiescence even if it acted as some sort of haven to the supernatural society. As the elated and blissed crowd funneled out into the streets with twilight blossoming overhead, dawn fast approaching, there was a sense of excitement over what the next night would offer up. The club would be of a different theme, as it always was, and be in a new location; ever changing like the fads and times around widely the immortal beings. One thing was for certain though, there would never be a dull moment if the High Warlock of Brooklyn was throwing a party. What sensation wasn't plaguing the lascivious clubers however, was the impending sense of doom...they had no idea what was truly just around the corner and what it had in store for all of the mystical creatures of New York.
The setting changes from Utopia NightClub to Brooklyn, New York
OMIT DUE TO WITHDRAWAL
lowering my word count because people suck
lowering my word count because people suck
The setting changes from Brooklyn, New York to Utopia NightClub
OMIT DUE TO WITHDRAWAL
lowering my word count because people suck
lowering my word count because people suck
The setting changes from Utopia NightClub to Brooklyn, New York
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Embera Armitage
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Embera and her friends finished their breakfast and headed out of the café and piled into Embera’s new car. “So tonight, we have something big planned for you.” Her friend Rachel said. “Oh dear should I be nervous?” Embera asked sarcastically turning on the chevy with a roar -- although honestly she was slightly nervous given her friend’s penchant to do crazy things. “Club Utopia.” Were the only two words that her friend said next. “Seriously? You figured out where it’s going to be tonight?” “YEP, my cousin was there last night and told me. And the club is going to be completely 1920’s themed. My grandma said that is so DARB and that we should dig in her storage for something to wear.” Rachel rolled her eyes laughing at the period slang. It wasn’t unusual to have relatives that were as old as the 1800s, although werewolves tended to have a shorter lifespan compared to other supernatural, in some ways being the strongest but having the most weaknesses. So they drove to Rachel’s, another multi-generational brownstone home where they tried vintage dresses out of Rachel’s grandmother’s trunk. There were anything from old boas and pearls to fringe dresses in the trunk. Embera donned a black beaded dress, which her friends thought was a little too vampy looking but she settled on anyway.
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“Now show us your nails.” Rachel demanded. Embera held out her newly painted and lacquered nails proudly. “I just got them done two days ago.” “Well that’s too bad. You’re going to have to get them redone.” “What? Are they already chipping?” Embera inspected her nails but then her friend held up her hand flashing elongated pointed claws in front of her. It was then she realized all of the other girls had their claws out as well. “Don’t worry, guys like the wild look where we’re going. Yours look too tame.” Embera felt a pang of adrenaline and nervous excitement. She was so used to hiding everything not human about herself even the idea of wearing her claws out in public excited her. She closed her eyes and concentrated wincing as the claws broke through her flimsy human ones, growing into one inch points. “There we go. Now I think we’re ready.” Rachel grinned, patting her on the shoulder. The bloody remnants of her human finger nails were thrown in the trash bin and they left.
“Here, here, here!”
Embera stopped her car abruptly along the sidewalk next to the dark deserted park, now completely empty in the evening time. “Are you sure this is it?” Embera questioned. “It better be or someone’s getting a pounding when I get home. He said it would in the boy’s bathroom.” Embera looked skeptically at her friend but none the less got out of the car with the rest of her entourage and followed. The air outside was cold enough their breath came out in puffs of steam and they walked closely together trying to keep warm in their skimpy fringe dresses. The cinderblock structure that was the bathroom in the middle of the park was eerily dark and quiet and they stood at the entrance, their sensitive noses absolutely appalled by the smell emanating from within. “Isn’t there another entrance?” “Nope. After you. Second stall to the left.” Embera scowled at her friend before going inside with her nose plugged. Her light sensitive eyes easily found the graffiti riddled door of the determined entrance stall and pushed through.
For a moment there was a disorienting darkness as she stepped inside the stall. A sensation as if she had missed a phantom step caused her to almost fall, putting her hands out in front of her, only to find herself on the other side of a completely different door in a completely different setting. Her hands caught a marble hand railing in front of her and she was staring over a one story balcony down at a dance floor where big band music was playing. “Whoa.” She swallowed and stood upright, looking around to gather her bearings. Her friends came in behind her less dazed than herself as they had grown accustomed to the portals. “You okay there? Come on.” They guided her down the stairs to the main floor. Embera was simply overwhelmed by the amount of supernatural in the club, many in their true forms the way she had never seen them before and soon was back to being quietly excited.
Tables to the left of the bar had been invaded by a hoard of wolves already, glowering at any other supernatural creatures that tried to take seats around them. “I thought it was just supposed to be us.” Embera whispered to her friend, stopping short. “It was.. But I may have let it slip to a few people where you were going to be tonight.” They continued forward and were hardily welcomed by the pack, members not only from Brooklyn but a few others as well. They melded into the group, Embera making her rounds to greet and thank everyone who came (invited or not) and it wasn’t long before the drinks started pouring in. A pack of wolves could drink a whole bar dry with their fast metabolisms making it hard to get even the teensiest bit tipsy. Once it seemed everyone was having a good time, Embera took the opportunity to slip away for a little bit and stand by the edge of the dance floor looking curiously over the other supernatural creatures present in the club. It wasn't only the variety of supernatural that surprised her but that they all seemed to be getting along just fine talking, laughing and even dancing with one another. It made her realize how sheltered she really was since she very rarely interacted with species outside her own. She wondered what the consequences might be if she started a conversation with another creature or God forbid -gasp- dance with one. She smiled mischievously to herself at the thought. Wouldn't that be a riot?
- Seen 7 Times • Page 1 of 1