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So begins...

Minerva Moreau's Story

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Setting

Essex, Connecticut

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#2021-06-03 07:09:55, as written by esoteric

minerva moreau
maid marian | ∙ outfit ∙ | #8499A3

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“Has Peter called yet?”

Her roommate’s voice was distant, muffled by the door separating Minerva’s bedroom from the rest of their shared apartment. Walking out of her ensuite, makeup bag in hand, she opened the door, inviting the other woman in before taking a seat at her desk. “No he hasn’t, I don’t even know if he’s going to go,” she replied, sitting cross-legged in her chair, pouring the bag’s contents out in front of her. As Veronica’s silhouette filled the doorframe, Minerva began pulling her hair back in a loose bun, ignoring the loose strands framing her face in favor of getting started. Her trial today had gone on a little longer than she’d anticipated and she was running late. Not that it mattered, apparently. She’d only thought to invite one person to the charity gala and he didn’t even have the decency to text her.

“And you didn’t think to call him?” Veronica prodded, as curious as always. Ever since Minerva took Peter Llewelyn on as a ‘project’, she's been insistent on insuring that he sticks to the straight and narrow, constantly inviting him out to community events in a fruitless effort to keep him out of trouble.

Minerva side-eyes the brunette before applying a layer of foundation, “You know I did… but he never answers my calls.”

Veronica huffed in amusement, crossing her arms over her chest, “You’d think he’d be a little more grateful, what with you getting him off easy and all.” she said, wandering further into the room as she did. She made herself comfortable in the chair just off to Minerva’s left, ignoring the woman’s lack of clothing in favor of gossiping. It’s not like they weren’t comfortable around one another anyway. “I don’t know why you keep making so much of an effort, Min. He’s kind of a prick.”

“Kind of?” Minerva huffed a laugh, “He’s a complete ass, Ron, but that doesn’t mean I’m just going to write him off like everyone else has.”

“Some people get wrote off for a good reason though,”

Minerva paused for a moment in the conversation to focus on applying her eyeliner, having already finished the face. She always saved the eyes for last because for her it was the most time consuming step. “Look, he’s two months into his parole and so far he’s been pretty clean. I just want to see him get through this without him going to prison.”

Veronica gave a long-suffering sigh, “That’s because you still see the good in people,” she said, “I swear I don’t know how you can deal with the kind of people you do on a day to day basis.”

“You’re a nurse, Ron.” comes Minerva’s deadpan reply, applying a layer of mascara before moving on to fill in her eyebrows.

“I said what I said.” Sensing that her roommate will soon need to get up and get dressed, Veronica pulled herself up out of the cushioned chair and headed back towards the door, “Well I hope you have fun tonight. Say hi to your boyfriend for me,”

Minerva is immediately filled with thoughts of John Carpenter, but not because she holds any romantic feelings for the man. Veronica had brought Minerva some coffee one morning while she was at work, and she just so happened to walk in on the two of them while they were arguing... much like — according to Veronica —”an old married couple.” No matter how many times Minerva insisted that there was more animosity between them than anything else, her roommate insisted that she could see the chemistry, going on and on about "sexual tension" and how they're an enemies-to-lovers fic just waiting to happen. It was like they had known each other in a past life or something, she had said, and has yet to let it go ever since. Lacking energy and time, Minerva let the comment slide, returning to the bathroom briefly to style her hair with tousled curls before beelining to the closet. Her dress wasn’t anything special. Simple, black, and form-fitting, maintaining a respectable level of modesty without sacrificing any sex appeal. She left her apartment with a thumbs up from Veronica and her purse, descending the staircase with the practiced grace of the many years she's had to wear high-heeled shoes.

Stepping out of a cab outside of City Hall, Minerva finds herself arriving behind a small group of people, hesitating at the bottom of the stairs. It wasn’t that she was intimidated by public functions like this ; networking for her firm has made her numb to large social gatherings. It wasn’t even that she was arriving alone, without someone on her arm to keep her company. She didn’t particularly need a date for things like these, independent as she is, and she’s positive she’ll be able to go in and find someone to talk to with relative ease. There was something else that bothered her that she couldn't describe, a foreboding feeling that she just couldn't seem to put a name to. She took a moment to brush off her dress, reaching into the her purse to make her sure her phone was on vibrate before slipping the strap onto her shoulder. With shoulders back and head held high, Minerva made her way inside, her face immediately lighting up at the sight of the old woman greeting people at the door.

"Mrs. Picket! Good evening," she greeted, pulling the woman in for a hug when others settled for polite handshakes. In her line of work, Minerva had to visit City Hall quite often, so she was very familiar with its layout and its patrons, but none of them held a candle to Mrs. Picket. "You look amazing. How's everything so far? Have I missed anything?"

With rose colored cheeks, Mrs. Picket smiled up at the young attorney, keeping Minerva's hands clasped in hers. "Thank you, dear. You're looking as beautiful as ever." Two gentle pats and she lets go, reaching into her pocket to slip her a piece of paper, "You haven't missed much, Miss Moreau. The event's just barely getting started. Feel free to place your bets over there," she gestures with one gloved hand, "I'll announce the winners at the end of the night."

Leaving Mrs. Picket with a smile, Minerva quickly commits her number to memory before slipping the piece of paper into her purse. A lot of people had already arrived, quite of few of them she recognized, others she knew rather well. She spotted Ciaran and Grayson almost immediately, but she she didn't have it in her to wave them over, not when they both looked so invested in their conversations. Foregoing socializing for the time being, Minerva made her way to the auction table, quietly perusing everything on display. Her eyes wandered, her attention catching on a few items with varying degrees of interest. It wasn't until she stumbled upon an antique dagger that she really gave pause. The King's Dagger, it was called. Her heart swelled at the sight of it, her hands carefully picking it up off of its velvet cushion to admire it more closely. So enraptured by the weapon was she that she didn't notice when someone came up behind her, her thumb grazing over the inscription that said: 'To my Marian, may you never back down from a fight.'

Setting

Essex, Connecticut

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#2021-06-06 04:55:11, as written by mombie

J O H N x C A R P E N T E R
f l y n n x r i d e r
#19444c || Outfit || Location

If anyone could be unfashionably late to a party, it would be John Carpenter. He didn't want to come and deal with all of the personalities. They got on his nerves. He wasn't even sure that his only friends, the local asshats of Essex, would even be there. Ben and Peter. Naturally. Who else could he be talking about? Adrien was just all money and arrogance, and any man could do that. John preferred a specific type of crew - one he could get into some trouble with, maybe share a few sidepieces with. If you know what he means. Hah!

He didn't have a variety of clothing, so jeans, a white t-shirt, and a casual coat would do just fine. He didn't have to be formal. He was just going to go and see if his favorite ladies were available because his friends certainly would not be. He looked at himself in the mirror as he ruffled up his dirty blonde hair. Wait? If his pals were not going to be there, would the town's hottest women be there, too? Hmm, he hadn't considered that.

He shoved his feet into the closest pair of shoes, stuck his wallet (that is mostly for show) into a pocket, and burst out the door of his apartment. He hopped and skipped down the steps, going so far as to slide down the railing on his hiney before jumping off like a juvenile.

He walked to City Hall since Essex wasn't a very large place, so the trek wasn't arduous at all. He didn't own a car as he didn't work far from his own apartment. Now that he thought about it - did anyone actually have to drive in this place? He shrugged at the thought and pushed the door open once he arrived at his destination. He went through the whole greeting with Mrs. Picket, got his number, and blah blah blah. Everything was pretty rushed as he was only here for the ladies.

Speaking of ladies - he did see that fiery redhead, Liesl, but she was already "dancing" with Hugo. If one could call that dancing, honestly. He gave Hugo a thumbs up and a stupid grin. He walked through the grand hall, and as he walked past Ben, he gave his friend a hard and playful slap on the ass. Yeah, he could do that. Walking backward, he gave the man his best finger gun gesture "Lookin' good, my man!"

He noticed Doctor Fines, of course, "Yo, Doc?! We still on for Friday?" He didn't stick around long to await an answer. Naturally, but the good doctor was probably used to it by now. Working with the town's worst men couldn't have been easy on the old man. The court agreed that he could function out in the world so long as he went to therapy, so that was that. John didn't have any real problems that he cared to unearth. He was just going to get some hours under his belt without knowing that the law actually needed the doctor's okay to keep him out of jail.

He could have stopped at Ben, but he already pinned a lady down with his predatory attention. Without a word of warning, he slipped behind Minerva. He knew that he crawled under her skin like some sickening infestation, but honestly - he also knew she sort of liked it. It was like one of those classic and cliche romance stories. You know - the lawyer always hanging out with the scumbag in what is bound to manifest in love or something. John would just settle for sex, but you see - she doesn't bite. It was a little frustrating, he won't lie.

He practically moved his head over her right side; his chin nearly being cradled by that soft slope where the neck met her shoulder. Some of her hair brushed along his face, but he didn't mind so long as he was being utterly intrusive. This all happened rather quickly as well, and once she was deep in thought regarding the item she bid on, he spoke, "You know, I just don't see you as the dagger type." He grinned at that and reached toward the table with one of his hands.

It just so happens that some raggedy-looking satchel caught his eye. It was leather, genuine - he could tell. Used; very well used, he guessed. He didn't know what was so special about it, but he stepped forward and unabashedly pressed himself right into the woman as if she were in his way. He was kind of a pig, so it shouldn't surprise her that he'd do something that so clearly violated her right to not have men sexually harass her. He used his desire to write his number down and a measly bid of twenty-five big bucks as an excuse to intrude on her person.

There were certain things he would not do because he did have some respect for women. He called these... minor transgressions, even if they were not so minor to them. Minerva was pretty. Not hot like Liesl or Liv... or even Nora (where was she anyway?), but she was hard to get and that was a little exciting.

Alas, he eventually backed off of her because - let's face it, he'd never get anywhere. It was a waste of his energy, and he didn't want to go home with an itch that he'd have to scratch himself. That would be unfortunate. He winked at her and retreated backward quickly, whether he was smacked or not in the process wasn't up to him. He turned around and fled for Peter because now Minerva had a dagger in her hand, and well - maybe he needed a little more distance.

He found himself at the bar next to Peter, clapping a heavy hand onto his friend's shoulder in a half embrace. His blue-eyes gaze flit toward Liv with an all-too charming smile that was bound to get him slapped a time or two by the time the night's over, "Do you believe in love at first sight, or should I walk by again?"

Yeah, that would do. The grin plastered on his face was absolutely shit-eating. Who could fucking blame him? If this stupid town had more ugly women, he wouldn't be in so much trouble all of the time! But there are none. They are all perfectly hot and none are willing to sleep with him. Except for Liesl, and while that was always a good time, he needed to add a few more notches on the headboard. Seriously.

He didn't even notice that Ciaran was there. Eh, John would hit on a girl even if her husband was there with her, so it didn't bother him at all.

Setting

Essex, Connecticut

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#2021-06-07 00:28:02, as written by xarysin

Dr. Henry Fines, MD
Dr. Jekyllx|xOutfitx|x#1b456b

"And how are you handling things?” Ben asked Fines. That caught him a bit off guard though he tried not to show it. There was no way he'd know. Right? He truly hoped his psychoses hadn't become obvious. "Some of the items are very strange, don’t you think? What do you think it says about someone who bids on something useless?”

Henry turned his attention back to the items on the table, clasping his hands behind his back. He figured Ben didn't really care about what he thought and that he was just humoring him, but he stayed, finding any little moments to check on his patients. At least those he worried about. He shrugged his shoulders casually, "I suppose one would find most of this useless. I saw you linger over the watch." His eyes drifted back to Ben. "You didn't give this one your usual abhorrent look. Something different about this one?"

A voice calling his name caught his attention, "Yo, Doc?! We still on for Friday?" Henry nodded at John. His attention had already left the doctor before Henry could give any sort of reply.

Henry turned back to look at Ben, finding people's reactions in their emotions, facial expressions, and tones sometimes more telling than the words themselves.

Ciaran Paine
Will Scarletx|xOutfitx|x#6D0404

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Ciaran took another drink of his beer, tilting back the glass. When he brought it back down, he found that another of Liv's friends had sidled up beside her.“As if that cocksucker needs anyone else’s money,” He made brief eye contact with the Ciaran before turning his attention to the bartender, “One gin and tonic for me, a rum and coke for the lady, and-...” looking over at the handyman with a leering gaze he asked, “What about you, handsome? How’s about I order you another beer when you’re done?”

Ciaran looked at his close to empty glass then raised it towards Peter in a silent agreement. He looked down at himself, running his hand down his midsection. "I wished this suit was working like that for the ladies. Alas, I think Liv here is just humoring me until someone saves her from a boring conversation. Maybe you're just in time to be her knight in shining.. suiting." His tone was deadpan. He knew he wasn't her type. He wasn't exciting. He grabbed his new beer and raised it towards Peter again.

He still couldn't shake why he was always trying to talk to her. She really wasn't his type either and he really didn't care for her friends. His point was proven yet again when John slid his way into the mix. He watched as he shamelessly flirted with Liv in an overly confident fashion. Typical John.

He looked into his glass and for a moment wondered if it was spiked and he'd been accidentally invited to a community orgy the way everyone seemed to be approaching everyone like predators. Where the hell was Minerva?!" Ciaran spotted one of the few people who might call him a friend and began to make his escape."I see you've got your hands full, Liv. Peter. Enjoy your evening." He gave John the same attention he was granted and turned to head back into the fray to find Minerva.

Setting

Essex, Connecticut

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#2021-06-09 17:29:38, as written by esoteric

minerva moreau
maid marian | ∙ outfit ∙ | #8499A3

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If she’d not been so preoccupied - hypnotized, even - by the dagger, she might’ve anticipated John’s intrusion before he’d gotten so close. Hooking his chin over her right shoulder, his body just a breath away from being pressed against her back, the conman invaded her space in a way very few people dared. Veronica’s parting words echoed in her mind in the brief silence they shared before John spoke directly in her ear, teasing her about the weapon she held in her hand. 'Ballsy,' she thought, but then again wasn’t he always? Only John would dare harass a woman when she had a blade in her hand. Minerva opened her mouth to comment, to bite back with a threat that would inevitably hold very little weight, but something else had caught John’s attention before she’d gotten the chance.

His body pressed fully against hers as his gaze turned to the leather satchel, pinning her between himself and the table. Minerva’s face went hot, blushing from cheek to collar bone, her grip tightening on the dagger in her hand. She remained still, lest she encourage someone (or rather something) else to join their conversation, letting him move against her as he placed a bid on the item. He didn’t bid much - with how close he was, of course she saw - but there was serious doubt that anyone else would compete for it. As John finally backed away, Minerva was spurred into action, turning toward him with the knife brandished in his direction. It was an empty threat, one he met with that same devil-may-care smile, her words dying on her throat. Her eyes spoke for her, a fire burning within her wide hazel gaze, telling him without saying so just how close he’d been to becoming a eunuch. Ironically, it was his wink that doused some of that anger, the familiarity of it filling her with annoyance more than anything else. She rolled her eyes as she watched him head towards the bar, turning their attention away from one another in synchrony, her hands sheathing the weapon and returning it to its cushion before she could be reprimanded for it.

Minerva placed a bid on it before she could really think about it, pulling out her number again since the recent assault on her person had managed to make her forget it. Five hundred dollars was all she had to spare for it. She’d come in with a budget and here she was blowing it all on one thing, but she wouldn’t let that bother her. After all, nothing else on the table seemed to hold her attention as well as the knife had. A part of her hoped that she would end up taking it home at the end of the night, but she wouldn’t let herself hope too much for that. It was such a beautiful weapon. What collector wouldn’t want to get their hands on that?

With a considerable amount of self-control, Minerva finally turned away, urging herself to mingle before she continued to obsess over the dagger. She swept her gaze over the crowd of people nestled in the hall, slightly embarrassed at the number of people that had arrived since she started browsing the items on auction. Had she really been looking at it for that long? Shaking herself out of her own reverie, Minerva continued to survey the patrons participating in the event, taking stock of how many people looked to be engaged in intense conversation, how many were paired up for a dance, and how many of them were by themselves. She gave the room one final scan, only to see Ciaran walking away from the bar, something slightly disgruntled about his demeanor. Her eyes flitted a smidge to the small cluster closest to him, a pang of sympathy immediately blooming for her friend.

Olive was there; she’s a waitress at the diner they frequented for lunch. Ciaran’s had his attention set on her for a while, awkwardly flirting during every meal while Minerva teased him about it. She was bracketed by two men, possibly the two sleaziest men in the city. When it came to seducing women - or in one of their cases people - no one stood a chance against Peter Llewelyn and John Carpenter. It was a small comfort seeing the former, even if she was a little annoyed at his lack of communication. The two of them were insatiable, possibly having had every woman in Essex in their bed at some point. Not that Minerva was keeping up with their sexual conquests. Especially John’s. Hedonism was a concept completely lost on her, and she knew for a fact that she’d just be another notch in John’s belt if she let him. Peter probably hated her too much to try.

Peering through the crowd, Minerva waited until she caught Ciaran’s gaze, waving the man over with an empathetic smile. She closed the gap between them once he got close enough, offering her hand to him, "Care to dance with me?"

peter llewelyn
peter pan | outfit | #1C815A

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"I dare you to say it louder so he hears you."

It was a joke, he knew, but Peter was still mighty tempted to humor the girl. Liv knew better than anyone that there were very few things Peter actually feared. Adrien Duval? Not one of them.

A heavy hand on his shoulder. A familiar presence at his side. A very familiar pick up-line. John’s approach was accompanied by all of these, bringing a smile to Peter’s face that was less licentious and more elated. If John was here then he was bound to have a good time, despite the man’s inclination toward female genitalia. For someone as salacious as Carpenter, it seemed rather pedantic to just stick to one gender; that’s how you know sexuality isn’t a choice. Peter would’ve hopped on that a long time ago if John had let him. Unfortunately, it looks like he’d just have to settle for living vicariously through his best friend. He shot Olive a look, knowing that she would be able to understand exactly what it meant, his salacious grin back in full swing as she flirted with the man in return.

The beard had left already, having said something about a knight in shining-... something before he walked away with his tail tucked between his legs. He couldn’t fault him. Peter was a lot to put up with, especially for a straight guy. He’d watched the handyman leave, just to appreciate the view, and his gaze wound up finding his lawyer almost immediately. Refusing to make eye-contact with the woman, Peter had turned his attention around, sipping at his drink as he watched two of his best friends in town talk amongst themselves. He wasn’t Liv’s favorite wingman for nothing, after all. Despite popular belief, he knew when to step back; he just didn’t want to most of the time. Besides, Liv fucking John was the only way Peter could find out he good he actually was. Liv’s slept with the best of the best, after all.

It’d be nice to know how the other man compared. It’d also be nice to know how big the man’s dick was.

"What brings you here, John?” Peter finally asked, "And looking absolutely delectable, I might add.” He eyed the man’s attire, sticking out like a sore thumb among everyone else’s fancy dress. It wasn’t like it mattered any. John could show up in a potato sack and be one of the hottest people in the room. Peter told him as much all the time, and luckily his friend wasn’t homophobic enough to turn down a compliment when he received one.

Setting

Essex, Connecticut

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#2021-06-14 05:00:18, as written by xarysin

Dr. Henry Fines, MD
Dr. Jekyllx|xOutfitx|x#1b456b

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Ben didn’t look back at Fines, ”If you must know,” Ben said, getting ready to be uncharacteristically honest with the doctor. Henry felt the length of the pregnant pause that followed. A paused most likely filled with anxiety and trepidation. Fines would be lying to himself if he didn't feel a bit of triumph in the sliver of honesty he was anticipating next.

”I’ve a terrible habit of pursuing things that make me uncomfortable,” He paused, giving Fines a quick once-over, ”Like you, I suppose." This comment gave him a sudden, anxiety-filled pause. He was always afraid, as careful as he may be, that his own issues would come to light. But in that split-second where you have a hundred thoughts, he realized what Ben's true meaning was and felt the anxiety subside a bit."Think I’ll be tossing the watch into the river if I win it, though.” Ben nodded, ready to be free of Henry’s presence. ”Another time, doc.”

Henry nodded to Ben, choosing not to bother him further. "Yes. I hope so." He watched Ben for only a moment, genuinely concerned for the health and happiness of his client.

Finding himself at a table with his warm cup of black coffee finally, he gripped the warm ceramic with both hands and looked over the party-goers with a clinical eye. He watched many of the men gravitate naturally to the women in the room and the women accepting and welcoming it; the women had the power as they usually did. Some of the people, regardless of gender, moved in an ostentatious manner, some cautious, and some without a charted course.

The peacocks, danced through the crowds in very purposeful movements and interactions, playing in the art of attraction, flashing their colors to draw in a mate, at least for an evening. It was a test of their power. The power being the crux. Fear of being powerless, fear of being unwanted, fear of irrelevance.

The cautious ones, quiet and unsure, were essentially the same as the predators in the sense they yearned for relevance. Wanted to be wanted. They just haven't realized their own power or how to harness it. Some would figure it out, hopefully before their youth hasn't slipped away.

And those who seemingly had no path flitted between this person and that, acting aloof, and feigned indifference. He saw them as pretending to have chosen to not have a course when really, they are desperate to find one, not knowing where or how they fit in this world. They too seeking relevance.

He smirked a bit as he continued to watch, looking down into the dark, warm liquid in his cup. All so different, yet the same. He was no different. He had no place to judge.

Ciaran Paine
Will Scarletx|xOutfitx|x#6D0404

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Ciaran caught Minerva's gaze, relieved. She waving the man over with an empathetic smile. Not only was he relieved to a familiar and friendly face but it was someone who he knew actively chose to tolerate his presence. Minerva closed the gap between them once she got close enough, offering her hand to him, "Care to dance with me?"

Ciaran immediately abandoned his beer on the nearest surface and reached for her hand. He engulfed her smaller hand in his large, rough hand, firmly but gently. "God, yes." He pulled her eagerly through the other patrons. On the dance floor, he turned towards her, shifting his hold on her hand and rested the other lightly on her waist. "Was it that obvious I was in need of a rescue, M?" . He moved her around the dance floor in a basic fashion, just glad to be in her company. It'd been a long time since he'd danced with a woman or have a chance to enjoy the touch of one beyond a friendly hug. He was finding the lone wolf thing more and more lonely since moving to Essex.

"I know I'm in for a load of shit for acting a fool around Liv, so let's have it." His tone was playful and he smiled as he spoke, enjoying the banter he had with Minerva. "I still don't know what it is. Maybe some bullshit baser instance or pheromones or some shit."

He attempted to offer to give her a light spin. "You look great by the way. As always." Their relationship was pretty plutonic thus far but he was not going to miss an opportunity to make his friend feel good as he admired the tight black dress. He tried not to leer, directing his gaze to the auction items for a moment. "Have you had a chance to look at all the weird junk? I stupidly put a bid on a sword and dagger."

Setting

Essex, Connecticut

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#2021-06-21 06:24:10, as written by esoteric

minerva moreau
maid marian | ∙ outfit ∙ | #8499A3

in collaboration with xarysin

ciaran paine
will scarlet | outfit | #6D0404

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A laugh bubbled it’s way to the surface as Ciaran quickly set his drink aside, taking her hand and escorting her through the mingling crowd toward the dance floor. It happened so fast Minerva would almost think him eager to get away from everyone, and after being bombarded at the bar she couldn’t blame him. "A little bit," she teased as he led her into a dance, her free hand resting comfortably on the slope where his neck meets his shoulder. Anyone would need rescuing from that crowd, especially someone like Ciaran. He was too kind and (admittedly) a little self-conscious to withstand their judgmental stares; it was also too easy for them to make someone balk at their mere presence. "Or maybe you’re just thinking with your dick and not your head," Minerva remarked, knowing he’d hear the mirth in her tone. Besides, it was a fair statement to make. Ciaran was a man on the hunt, he just didn’t seem to know what he was hunting for.

Of course, Minerva took the compliment well, her smile brightening and her face clear of any of the light-hearted pity she once held for her friend. She muttered a quick thank you, her cheeks slightly rosy, taking a moment to admire the man in fancy dress as he asked about something else. "I did, actually," she said, their conversation moving on to the auction table. "At least you bet on a whole set," she laughed, "I had my eye on that single dagger over there, the one with the engraving." In truth she still didn’t know why she placed a bet on it, but she wouldn’t say it aloud lest she be teased for wasting her money.

When she mentioned ‘thinking with his dick’, Ciaran pursed his lips in embarrassed agreement. "Perhaps." He continued to lead her around the dance floor, oblivious to anyone else around at the moment. "A dagger? Truly? I probably shouldn’t be surprised but I’m surprised. I would have suggested the black jeweled necklace if I hadn’t seen Lorelei and Duval hovering around it. Why the dagger?"

Minerva remembered the necklace he was talking about, with its obsidian gem and menacing beauty, but it wasn't the audience it gathered that had turned her eyes away. When she saw the dagger everything else just paled in comparison. "I don't really know," she thought aloud, almost wistful. She broke herself from her reverie and looked at Ciaran fully, her eyebrow cocked in the teasing manner as the smirk now adorning her lips, "Are you saying I don't look like the kind of girl that'll turn down a pretty necklace over a weapon?"

Ciaran met eyes with her and his mouth gaped open. He knew he’d stuck his foot in his mouth AGAIN. "I.. no.. I mean…" Fuck. "No, M. I’m sure you could do a lot of damage with that weapon. Maybe starting with me." He grinned and tried to give her another spin in an attempt to distract her. "I can’t say why I bid on the sword either. Maybe I’ll bring them by your office and hang them on your wall with your dagger and you can be really intimidating to your clients, eh?"

Her head hung back with the force of her laugh as she was spun, tears almost welling up in her eyes. She hasn't laughed - or even smiled - this much since their last lunch date. It was good to have someone she could be this open with, to have someone she didn't have to put up a front for. With them knowing each other as well as they did, Minerva had no doubt in her mind that he would know he's off the hook. As their bodies connected once more, she gave the crook of his neck a gentle squeeze just for good measure. "As if you need a reason to come see me," she teases, "Though I'll admit, the idea is growing on me. I almost hope we get them, they'd be quite the conversation piece."

Ciaran grinned as he saw his friend laughing. It felt to make her happy. When she came back into his grasp his hand rested on the small of her back rather than waist as before. "At the very least they up your intimidation factor." He glanced around the room. "Or perhaps we can learn to actually use them." He laughed a bit at that thought.

"I already can if you count fencing," Minerva replied, "You should join me some time, unless you're scared of getting your ass kicked in a sword fight." A challenge spoken with unwavering confidence. She had years of experience under her belt thanks to the classes she's been taking at the gym, and although they were close friends, she wouldn't go easy on him if they were to ever spar. She was too competitive for that, unfortunately. She'd tease him once he lost and offer him a rematch, probably just to boast after another win. It would be just like their lunches at the diner in a weird way, only this time she'd be the only woman holding his attention. Minerva should count herself lucky for having a friend that could put up with her like Ciaran did.

He leaned his head back with a surprised look on his face, "Say what, now? Count me intimidated." He was sincerely impressed by her confession. Though he did have a little worry in the back of his mind. Those who fence tend to be waspy rich types. Types that didn’t like his types: poor criminal types. He hoped that moment of worry didn’t cross his expressions. "I am a little afraid of getting my ass kicked, actually. What other secrets are you keeping from me?" He grinned, mostly playing around with a hint of true curiosity.

Whatever thoughts plagued her friend's mind seemed fleeting, concern crossing his face for only a moment before he was right back to smiling. Hers faltered just a bit, worried in her own way, afraid of what Ciaran could be working himself up over. Minerva hid it just as well as he did, letting whatever it was remain unspoken. "Nothing you ever have to worry about," she said with a small shrug, feeling light on her feet as they spun along the dancefloor. "You probably know me better than anyone else in this room," she admitted, and it was probably true. There wasn't really anyone else in attendance that she spent so much of her free time with. "What about you? Have anything you're hiding from me?" There was earnestness in that question, though she'd only worded it that way to play off of their banter. If she could learn something new about a good friend then she would be pleasantly surprised, confident in the knowledge that their relationship will be better for it.

Ciaran tilted his head upwards, making an over dramatic thinking expression as they swayed. "Mmmm.." He looked back down at her with a slightly side-ways glance. "Off the record? Don’t go runnin’ off to the sheriff." He spoke in jest, figuring she had a dislike for the corruption going on with the police. "I miiiight be wanted in a few counties. Though I doubt anyone is actually investing any time into looking for a former teenager who stole sandwiches and deodorant from Walmart." He continued in a playfully dramatic tone, "But fear not, dear maiden, my life of crime is behind me." He gave her a grin.

Ciaran's theatrics never ceased to amuse her. She played along every time, drawing an 'X' over her heart with the tip of her finger to promise that she wouldn't tell a single soul. Minerva moved in close with her head cocked to the side, revealing her ear as if he was telling her a secret. His "life of crime" coaxed another laugh out of her, her face lit up with amusement as he promised her to keep out of trouble from here on out. As if someone like Ciaran could seriously commit to a life of serious crime. He wasn't like Adrien Duval, or even Peter. Ciaran is a good man, and she'd trust him with anything. "Well if you do ever find yourself getting into trouble, you've got a pretty good attorney on your side."

He chuckled lightly, feeling quite relaxed at the moment. "That I do. That I do. But don’t worry, that’s not why we’re friends." He removed his hand from her back and put two fingers up in the air, "Scouts honor." His hand found it’s way back to it’s place on her lower back. "Besides, Grayson keeps my sandwich thieving ass in line these days. If I need a lawyer, it’ll probably be because I’ve broken the nose of one of Essex’s ‘elite’." He had disdain in his voice when he said that last word.

Minerva smiled as he raised his hand in promise, rolling her eyes more out of fondness than actual annoyance. After knowing each other for as long as they have, she knew there was more to their friendship than either of their careers. He didn’t use her for legal aid just as she didn’t use him for day to day maintenance at her office. "Well in that case, I’ll take your case pro bono." Minerva laughed, amused by both the disdain in his voice and the image he provided. Although Ciaran was leading, it was Minerva that led them to a stop as the music softened into silence, the room quiet save for the dull roar of conversation surrounding them. "Come on," she said, backing away and nodding her head towards an empty table, "Let’s grab a seat before the good ones are all taken." Minerva led him over to the tables at the front of the hall, pulling out a seat for herself and trying not to melt in the chair when she finally got to sit down. She might not know when the auction itself would begin, but at least she had decent company to keep her entertained in the meantime.

Setting

Essex, Connecticut

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#2021-06-22 05:25:08, as written by mombie

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~ Toast to Hope ~
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There was much to do still and not a lot of time left to do them. This night could not last forever, as pained as Mrs. Picket felt for all involved. As she walked through the gala she noted the relationships that have formed, and part of her knew that happiness would be broken as the curse slowly lifted. But this was for the best, she told herself over and over again. They did not belong in this earthly realm, for every precious moment spent living their best lives in Essex, the Enchanted Realm withered away thanks to the vile curse of the Evil Queen. It wouldn't be long until it was gone for good. The people needed their beacons of hope, but they are all here in Essex.

Several fancy individuals went around the auction tables, presumably to look at the bids placed. They took about 30 minutes, or so, to close the auction and place the winning number on each item. It was a silent auction, after all.

After a while, the music died down and Mrs. Picket took the stage front and center. Waiters and waitresses carried trays of champaign, offering one thin fluke to each person. She was given a mic, tapped it a couple of times, did the comical and fun one, two, three . . . test, test. She laughed a little to lighten the mood because there was nothing joyous about the occasion. Those that have lived miserable lives in the Enchanted Realm had grown content here, but Mrs. Picket's magic would soon shred their reality.

"What a wonderful night. It's been lovely to see all these faces together in one spot," she smiled as best she could. Of course, it was easy for her - she had such a bright outward appearance and personality that it was hard to see her as anything but jovial. She's just a happy old lady! "The silent auction has ended. You will find the winning bids place on the items," she gestured toward the various auction tables. There were, indeed, large white cards placed near each item with the number of its owner. It didn't matter if someone outbid them or if someone bid on their behalf; the digits would match whomever the item belonged to.

"I know, I know," she paced to and fro, adding a little comedy to her routine, "Such an eclectic inventory, right? And that's putting it nicely." She paused for the obligatory laughs. No one would leave an old lady hanging, even if her humor was dry, right?

She raised her glass in the air toward those gathered. They were waiting for her to get to the point, and she gets that. It's a long night and there are far too many personalities here for everything to remain pleasant. "The proceeds from the auction will go toward those suffering without hope." She paused, took a look around the room, and smiled lightly. Come tomorrow, this throng of good Essex people will be shattered. "Dance, be merry, and enjoy each other. Tomorrow will mark a new beginning in Essex. But I hope you will always remember that there is always hope. Hope in the world, in each other, and even in that which is hopeless - be it a person or situation. Believe in change. Believe in... goodness."

She wanted to sigh because certain individuals here were not going to change for anything. But she proceeded to be content in her vague ramblings. Maybe many would just dismiss her as an old senile lady, for she is quite geriatric. "So let's toast to that - hope, for it can be found in even the darkest places. Even in... all of this," she gestured around to the auction tables once more with a free hand.

After finishing off her drink, she addressed them for the last time. "Well, it's been lovely, dearies. My job here is done, and I must go." She left the stage, allowed others to say their good-byes to her and she to them. The Enchanted Realm had so few heroes within it to help stave off the Evil Queen's magic, and the Fairy Godmother was one of them. Even just spending a few hours here could have caused harm.

With that, Mrs. Picket left the building and went back from whence she came. She took one last look at Essex and the dimly lit streets before she "poofed" away as though she was never here. However, unlike she had intended in the beginning, she'd leave the residents a memory of her as to take a few words to heart later.

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Meanwhile, in the Enchanted Realm whole cities, kingdoms, and minor-realms were at war with one another. Many of them were headed by the co-conspirators of Jafar or the Evil Queen, both with the same goal in mind. The Realm was decaying at a rapid rate, and no one knew who to blame for the mess. The skies everywhere were a dour shade of grey, and the flora and fauna were diseased and deathly. Everyone was frightened because they were without proper leadership. The loss of certain characters meant the end of hope.

The Fairy Godmother returned to a small clearing in the Enchanted Forest that was kept alive by the magic of herself and a few others. She stepped into a small hut and nodded slowly, "They will come. Of that, I have no doubt."

The Blue Fairy, the six Fairies that blessed Aurora, and even the one that was said to have cursed Beast, were all having dinner at a large round table. It wasn't anything special; just stew. "We'll see," one of the six Fairies scoffed. "We should still look for a way to break this curse. Just in case. Who'd want to return to this?"

The Blue Fairy laughed solemnly, "Ah, yes - that will be quite the dilemma. Won't it?"

The Fairy Godmother peered out of a window. The skies were clear here, but she could see the tendrils of dark light stretching slowly toward them. "Hope, ladies. Hope. It's the only thing we have left."

They would all agree to disagree. Some of them felt that these were the end of days, and others were more optimistic. However, they were all realistic. Realistically, life was hell in the Enchanted Realm - even for those that supposedly had their "Happy Endings" - whatever that meant. Life here was no storybook.

Setting

Essex, Connecticut

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#2021-06-26 06:45:48, as written by mombie

R I C A R D O x T R U J I L L O
t h e x b e a s t
#4d2915 || Outfit || City Hall

Ricardo was not surprised that Lorelei took his hand. While he may not be an openly arrogant man, he was. Would any woman actually decline his offer? An no, Liesl doesn't count - she's dancing with Hugo.

As the pair moved to the dance floor, he either didn't notice or didn't care to be obvious about knowing, that she was reluctant. Guiding a woman in dance came as naturally to him as breathing, and despite his towering physique, his touch was gentle; guiding, not tugging. He didn't need to wrestle a woman to get them to do what he wanted. Unlike some people - ~~Adrien~~.

He had pulled her closer to him; her intimate space instantly taken over as he placed a hand at the small of her back and changed the grip of their hands. The possessive nature of his hold could hardly be recognized by the onlookers outside, for his aloof and unsmiling nature betrayed very little. But he had her, and it didn't matter that he couldn't master the perfect facial expressions or poetic whatnots at this very moment.

The first song was quiet, and he chose to correct any of Lorelei's errs naturally without causing embarrassment or shame. If she tripped on her own two left feet because of nerves, he pretended not to notice at all. There was no need to bring up insignificant flaws like that. In fact, they were kind of cute. She even stepped on his toe once, but he decided to take better care of minding his own body for physical longevity. Heels are dangerous weapons.

Just when the man was getting comfortable, the obvious question rolled from Lorelei's lips, "Why aren't you dancing with Liesl?" Ah, so she had seen the little encounter between himself and the feisty redhead.

He didn't step away, but he did lean back just a smidge so that he could bow and tilt his head enough to look her in the eyes. There it was; a smile, but it wasn't amorous. It was more like... quiet laughter and amusement at her inquiry. He even showed a bit of teeth. "Liesl?" He laughed once, "I suppose I could dance with her. In fact, any man here could dance with her and she'd not object. Why would you worry about that?"

Then it occurred to him that she could have seen a whole five seconds of that interaction, which led him to his next choice of words, "Why don't you go ask her why if you need to know so badly?" The words, themselves, seemed quite harsh to the contrasting gentleness of the tone that carried them. His voice was deep; it rumbled in his throat, but he was a smooth-talker.

A single shoulder shrugged slowly as he looked away to resume the dance, "Or you can just ignore her and focus on me. Hmm?" Sure, it had a weird sexist tone to it - maybe - but to say he was unlike Adrien would be a lie. He was just more subtle about it.

Shortly after their last dance, he heard the clinging of a fork against a glass. It demanded attention. Mrs. Picket was speaking, which meant that it was time for things to start drawing to a close. It didn't feel like it's been long at all, but by the sound of things, Mrs. Picket had places to be. She was an important woman after all. Of what - he could not remember.

The dancing stopped and the servers handed out the champagne flutes. Ricardo reached for one, handed it to Lorelei, and then took another for himself. During this entire speech, he hadn't noticed that he simply moved her to the side but retained her fingers within his own lightly grasping palm. It was absentminded, as if it were natural for him to do so. Like they were a thing, even.

Not being a man that had that champagne taste, he merely took a tentative sip before handing it off to a passing waiter. At this time he did note that he had been holding on to her hand, but he also didn't care. He simply withdrew it casually without bringing attention to the gesture. He wasn't sorry for much in this lifetime.

When Lorelei was done with her own champagne he spoke, "I need to check on a few auction items I bid on. I'll walk you home after. Okay?" He leaned down and looked at her when he put that last question in there. It wasn't much of something for her to respond to, but he did want to make sure Lorelei understood that she's to wait on him.

He straightened and turned away from her only when he got the expression or words he wanted, then went to see what items he won and which ones were a bust. The Quill pen was a bust. He scoffed at that. Adrien probably did it to spite him, or maybe it was Paisley. It was either Adrien or one of those pesky bookworm women! He just knew it. He cursed under his breath, stepped away from it, and went to the unusual rose and glass dome antique.

Of course, he would win the odd knickknack. Maybe Lorelei would be interested in this rather than some Quill Feather pen.

J O H N x C A R P E N T E R
f l y n n x r i d e r
#19444c || Outfit || Location

“Word on the street is, you don’t particularly care for this so-called love anyways.” Liv retorted, and that brought a devious upward curl to the corner of his lips. “I wouldn’t mind if you walked by again though.” Ah, the little minx. Redheads were such teases. He still had his arm around his good friend, but his eyes were hyperfocused on the vixen with lecherous intent.

"Careful now," he teased back; voice low and at a rather intentional predatory growl. Near, anyway, "I've got a really bad reputation for pinning women against bathroom walls. I'm sure my good friend here could use the entertainment." He gave Peter's shoulder a hard squeeze, then chuckled at himself. Ah, he's the worst and he knew it. There was no man more disgustingly immoral than him with his unabashed references, some of which were not subtle, about using women as he pleased. Not many of them responded kindly to it, either.

To the comment from Peter that he looked delectable, John responded by placing an open palm against his chest, fluttering his lashes, and giving him an overdramatic interpretation of a woman accepting a compliment, "Why, you flatter me, Mr. Lleweln." The voice he led with was dripping with a jestful feminine tone, and his attention was pinned on making Peter squirm a little, too. Sure, John was heterosexual, but to say that Peter didn't make a straight man second-guess himself would be a lie. He pulled his arm away, turned to face him, straightened out Peter's collar, and gave his blonde hair a good ruffle. He leaned in, "If you're hittin' that and not sharing, I'm gonna be upset, man. She could take the both of us, right?" His 'whisper' was not that discreet, and Liv would probably hear it. She was meant to.

Both Peter and Liv would be wise to take him seriously, but they wouldn't be wrong to take his words as good (though wildly inappropriate) fun. He really wouldn't say no to tag-teaming a lady. Peter wouldn't, either. With his body still facing his pal, he turned his head and offered Liv a sly grin. He's such a dog.

He settled himself onto a stool with the conversation veering one way or another, and let his eyes roam for a moment. His peripherals locked onto Minerva. That pesky brunette liked it when he invaded her space; he could tell. At least, that's what he tells himself! Some women just didn't want to cave, but that made the chase much more primal. All that confidence and self-agency is sexy as hell, but even better when it all caves to submission. He'd play her game... for a while until he really got tired of it. Then he'd be in a lot of trouble. Or she would. Both could be true at once.

He watched her for a time, and when their eyes met during her dance with Ciaran, he smirked at her. One part of him knew that there was little competition, but another part was a bit on the jealous side. The other guy wasn't a saint by any measure, but he was a better guy than John. That pissed him off a little.

Time passed by and his gaze dragged and surveyed the space, snapping to another dangerously attractive redhead; Rhiannon. He caught the wink to Liv and then couldn't help the next words, "A four-way is better than a three-way." Deep down inside, even though he's an absolute sleazebag all of the time, he really had eyes for one exceptionally stubborn woman. In what kind of way? He wasn't sure. For now, he just based it on primal urges. He could play around for now, though.

Mrs. Picket said her piece and moved on, but John didn't bother with the champagne. That shit's for giddy college girls that wanted to get "white-girl wasted" to the latest number one hit pop song. He looked between the two of them; Liv and Peter, "Yes, no? I mean, we're two good lookin' guys." He gave Peter another one of those arm around the shoulder tugs toward him. It was more a question for Liv. "You can say no, but this offer only comes once." Was he joking? Was he serious? It's so fucking hard to tell. Peter knew that he wasn't, but not a lot of others could. After all, who says things like this in real life?

P a i s l e y x L a w r e n c e

b e l l e
#D35950 || Outfit || Location

Paisley didn't mind that John swept her to the dancefloor. It was... unexpected, and maybe a spot of hot red tinged her cheeks, but they were just friends. Just friends. Without drawing his attention to it, she drew in a quick soft breath and let it out again. She could do this in a totally platonic way.

"It would be much easier to watch over them while dancing. Don't you think?" Her thoughts had ventured elsewhere for those few seconds, and his words seemed to reach her ears a few seconds too late. Paisley looked up to see what he was referring to, and quickly averted her gaze from Ricardo and Lorelei. She was friends with Lorelei, but she wasn't going to pretend to know much about the woman's situation with the enigmatic Ricardo. Hell, no one knew Ricardo enough to even begin to guess what his intentions are. For all Paisley knew, he was just a kinder guy than she thought (she had taken some of his rumored reputation to heart), and thought the gesture obligatory. He wasn't even smiling. Did he even enjoy the dance?

"She doesn't seem to be experienced. Also seems a little perplexed of the situation if you ask me. How about you? Are you experienced or is this more of an event suited towards your characters?" He asked shortly before giving Paisley a twirl, to which she managed without stumbling around. She could dance, but she wasn't the best. Good enough, basically.

"Hmm, I don't know much about Lorelei's romantic life. You know we women love to gossip, but she's a little more private." She laughed lightly at that, "As for me, I can dance. Kind of. For the most part. But no - I don't typically enjoy indoor events." That was what he was asking about, right? Then the thought occurred to her that he might be asking about something else. He said event. Did that mean the gala? Or was it whatever was happening between the people he had mentioned previously? Love? Romance? Their many forms?

At one point the pair had turned enough that Paisley's attention was ensnared by Adrien. Of all things in this world, he was the most intimidating yet also interesting at the same time. Wait. No. He wasn't interesting. He was a brainless oaf. There were much better men in this town than that one! In fact, Peter or John Carpenter together, at once, would be better than Adrien.

"Seems like something interesting may happen soon," John W. said, effectively yanking the woman out of her thoughts and back into reality. Her gaze flit from Ricardo to Adrien, then to Lorelei and Liesl. She couldn't help but laugh a little bit at the situation. Ricardo didn't seem like the type of man to start something over a woman, and this wasn't that kind of trashy event. Adrien wouldn't do it. Would he?

She looked over at Adrien for a second. Why did she have this feeling that he would?

It wasn't any of her business, she thought to herself, stepping closer to John and resting her head near the crook of his neck (though more likely around his chest somewhere due to drastic height difference). She couldn't quite place the feeling that was growing in the pit of her stomach, but it was off. There was a lot of tension, and she couldn't even begin to fathom why it disturbed her.

"Ah, I almost forgot, but I promised to take the kids to the lake for a picnic. Think it will be okay if I drop by and pick them up at noon?" Subject change. Nothing made her uneasy than the suffocating air of two alpha males flirting on the edge of a fight for dominance.

Before Waldmann could answer, Mrs. Picket had the champagne glasses distributed and said her piece. It left Paisley with confused furrowed brows, "A new beginning? So strange," she muttered, finishing her glass in one sip and handing it to a passing waiter after. She looked up at John, "Was there news that I missed?"

Setting

Essex, Connecticut

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#2021-06-30 03:49:33, as written by xarysin

Dr. Henry Fines, MD
Dr. Jekyllx|xOutfitx|x#1b456b

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Fines had spent the greater part of the evening at a table in the back with his coffee. He exchanged pleasantries with anyone who would have passed by but otherwise he was content to be by himself people watching. This wasn’t his crowd but he didn’t feel the need to leave. He was also preoccupied with the kit he bid on. He kept a keen eye on anyone who gave it any attention, watching for other bids.

He found the ending speech from Picket very strange and almost off-putting. He could tell there was a lot she wanted to say but did not. He felt her pregnant pauses. He could hear the worry and sadness in her voice. The whole thing didn’t sit well with him but there was not a chance to explore deeper. He thought about trying to catch her on her way out but his interest in the medical kit pulled him over to look at the winning bids. Picket was long gone.

He tried to act patient as he waded through the other people collecting their goods. The anticipation of seeing his name on that card was almost overwhelming. Had he forgotten to take his anxiety pill this morning? There was a wash of relief when he saw his name on the card. He ran his fingers over the deep, rich velvet lining, admiring the kit again.

A deep, satisfied laugh echoed through his mind, shattering his triumphant moment. His expression dropped. His medication was wearing off. He snapped the lid shut on the kit, lifted it by the handle, and hurried for the door. Soon…

Ciaran Paine
Will Scarletx|xOutfitx|x#6D0404

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Ciaran had spent what was little left of the evening at the tables with Minerva. Initially, he had really dreaded going to this event. He hadn’t been looking forward to wearing a suit for one but he really hadn’t wanted to rub elbows with the Essex wonderkind either. He still hadn’t figured out why he decided to stay in a town full of what seemed to be spoiled rich kids who were now self-entitled wayward adults. He didn’t understand his compulsion to go to tonight's events either but there he was and had to admit it wasn’t that bad. He might even say he had fun once M rescued him.

He was all too eager to eat dinner after the dancing had finished off a steak before the champagne was passed around. He took a glass for the sake of ceremony and lifted one from the tray for Minerva, setting it before her. He remembered to be a gentleman sometimes. He didn’t drink from his glass though; the one and only time he had champagne, he had woken with the worst hang-over of his life. Granted he got wasted, but never again. His attention was quickly diverted away from his many past mistakes to Ms. Pickett up on stage.

"What a wonderful night. It's been lovely to see all these faces together in one spot. The silent auction has ended. You will find the winning bids placed on the items," she gestured toward the various auction tables.

Ciaran sat up and tried to spot the card in front of the sword and dagger set but was much too far away to see if his number was the one written down. He pursed his lips and sat back in his chair and turned his attention back to the stage. He’d look after. It wouldn’t be a big deal if he lost. What would he even do with them?

Pickett raised her glass in the air toward those gathered, "The proceeds from the auction will go toward those suffering without hope. Dance, be merry, and enjoy each other. Tomorrow will mark a new beginning in Essex. But I hope you will always remember that there is always hope. Hope in the world, in each other, and even in that which is hopeless - be it a person or situation. Believe in change. Believe in... goodness."

Ciaran glanced over to Minerva with a furrowed brow with a confused look and mouthed, Tomorrow?. What was happening tomorrow and what did all this have to do with it? The words she spoke were a bit ominous. Especially when she spoke about keeping hope. Was there an election he missed?

"So let's toast to that - hope, for it can be found in even the darkest places. Even in... all of this," she gestured around to the auction tables once more with a free hand. “Well, it's been lovely, dearies. My job here is done, and I must go."

Ciaran turned to Minerva with a thoroughly confused expression and began to stand. “That was a really weird speech. Is there something going on that I don’t know about?” He straightened out his vest, quite done with the monkey suit. “Shall we see if we’re the proud new owners of some old ass blades?”

Setting

Essex, Connecticut

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#2021-07-13 21:16:13, as written by mjolnir

roman scarrott
the geniex|xoutfitx|x#5890c9

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"I suspect you’d starve. Probably could just pack up and move on, though I think the murder charge would follow you." Roman laughed at the comment. He stood out like a sore thumb, so he doubted he'd be able to get away with murder that easily. "No harm done, though. You’ve not taken out my remaining arm, so business will carry on as usual."

Roman chuckled, giving Ben a hearty pat on the shoulder. "Glad to hear it. I think everyone would run me out of Essex if I got too hangry," he jested.

"Oh. Thank you." Ben seemed a bit taken by surprise at the compliment. Some men always seemed a bit off put receiving compliments from another man, not that he seemed the type. Rome meant nothing by it aside from what he said. Ben looked good in purple. Men should be more comfortable complimenting each other more often. Women do it, why couldn't they?

"If you really don’t mind," Ben seemed relieved at his offer. "I’ll take whiskey, or rum. So long as it’s strong, I don’t really care."

"Sure thing."

Roman made his way towards the bar where a handful of people congregated. He couldn't help but hear the tail end of a conversation between Liv and two other men. It sounded like proposition of some kind. And while sex, nor a threesome, was explicitly said, he wasn't dumb and could connect the dots. It was none of his business what they do with their free time. Roman was more spiritual when it came to love or pleasures of the flesh. He was never one to judge someone based on their sexual appetite.

"Looking good gents," he said to the two men as he tried to slip past the group to reach the bar. "Liv, stunning as always." Roman flashed her a friendly wink before he turned his attention toward the bartender.

It didn't take Roman much longer to retrieve two whiskeys and return to Ben. He held out the drink, with a smile. "Thank you. I appreciate it."

Roman took a drink before responding. "No problem. People tend to move aside when I head their way." He laughed while taking another sip. He was a large man, but on top of that, he has been told, on more than one occasion, that his resting bitch face could be quite intimidating. It was never really his goal to intimidate anyone. Rome was really a lover not a fighter. But that didn't mean he couldn't break a couple bones if needed. There have been a handful of towns that weren't as friendly when it came to his arrival.

"I’m sorry if I’m being presumptuous, but I need to know. You don’t have an amputation fetish or anything, do you?"

Ben's question seemed to come out of left field and catch Roman off guard mid-drink. He coughed, nearly spitting out the whiskey. It took him a minute or two to compose himself. "No, man. I was just trying to make friendly conversation with one of the few faces I know. My intentions are pure," he concluded while holding up a hand in surrender.

He might have said something else, but before Roman could even part his lips to speak Mrs. Picket took center stage. With a smile towards his present company, he then turned to face the white haired woman as she addressed the crowd. "What a wonderful night. It's been lovely to see all these faces together in one spot." She began her long speech, the entire time Roman listened intently. His gaze might have drifted every now and then to gauge the crowd, but he was still focused on her words. It was a strange speech, speaking of hope and new beginnings. He hadn't been in Essex long to know what that might have meant, but something about her words clicked some strange sense of nostalgia inside him.

Roman stuck with his whiskey rather than taking the offered champagne. A toast was a toast after all. And he was trying to avoid mixing liquors as much as possible. When Mrs. Picket had finished, he clinked his glass against Ben's in a small cheers before downing whatever whiskey remained.

"Well, I have a restless dog who has probably half destroyed my van by now," Roman jested as he passed his empty glass off to a waiter. "I'll catch you and that sexy nub tomorrow." If his tone didn't express his sarcasm, then his teasing grin and playful pat on Ben's shoulder would show he was just joking around.

He started to make his way towards the auction tables but detoured to the food. The wait staff had begun cleaning up whatever remained, no doubt going to throw it out or donate it. He grabbed a napkin and wrapped up a burger that had long gone cold. It wasn't for him. Nan would whine for half of the night if he didn't bring her back something since he'd been gone so long. He tucked the food in his jacket pocket as he made his way over to the tables.

It seemed many people had the same idea, so Roman lingered towards the back of the crowd while others grabbed their winnings. Once there was a bit of a break he decided to snake his way past others. Already, half of the items that were laying out had been snatched up and taken away. He approached the table that held the Arabian oil lamp. His bid wasn't large, so he didn't expect to win the small lamp. But when his gaze fell to the small card in front of it, Rome scoffed in disbelief. "I'll be damned," he remarked under his breath.

As he reached out to the take the lamp, his gaze drifted over to his right. Roman saw two small hands reaching for a small ornate dagger with a matching sheath. His eyes trailed up the arms until he was met by a petite brunette, who stood nearly a foot shorter than him, in a tight black dress. "Handsome blade," he commented while pointing his free hand at the King's Blade. "Remind me never to piss you off." Then he smiled. It was a cute little smirk that came off charming, even if he didn't mean it to.

Roman nodded his head towards the woman in a silent gesture of farewell before he started heading toward the exit. Just before reaching the door he heard something crash to the ground, along with a women exclaiming, "Adrien!" He looked back toward the gathering just in time to see a Clark Kent looking man forcefully dragging a blonde past him and out the doors. He thought about stepping in, but another nicely dressed man was quick on their heels. Rome hesitated for a moment by the exit, but curiosity got the better of him and he stepped outside.

He couldn't hear the conversation between the two males, but he didn't need to. It looked like a standard pissing contest between two alphas by his own account. At one point the blonde ran past him into the City Hall and in that brief time she was gone, the men had started throwing punches. Everything escalated quickly until one of the men drew a gun. Normally, Roman wasn't the type to get involved, but he imagined that was the first time that cop ever had to draw his weapon and the one with the gun didn't look like he was going to back down.

Rome began to unbutton his cuffs as he started down the stairs, preparing to step in. The men were large and while Office Hughes wasn't a small man by any accounts, if the one with the gun turned his aggression on the cop, it'd go south quickly. He didn't want to get involved, but sometimes he couldn't help himself. It was some strange internal compass that always told him to help the little guy, sucker punch the abusive husband or stop muggers. Same day, another town... And then he'd have to be onto a new city by morning. Roman had already spent longer in Essex than he normally did in one place, he supposed it was about time for him to move on anyway.

Just as he reached the bottom step and began to roll up his sleeve, the man with the gun surrendered. Maybe it was his lucky day after all. Roman sighed softly and watched until the cop car drive off. He didn't linger, nor did he care to gossip about whatever transpired. So, with his oil lamp in hand and a burger in pocket, he made his way back to his van.

To no surprise, his van was right where he left it. The sounds of Road Runner and Nan's snores could be heard from several feet away. Not even the door opening stirred Nan. It wasn't until he pulled the beef patty out of his pocket that the dog finally woke with a big stretch. He let her out to stretch her legs and use the restroom as he climbed into the back and fell back onto his bed with a sigh. As Roman stared up at the ceiling, he slowly held up the oil lamp to study it. "What the hell was I thinking?" he scoffed, before setting it down on the small shelf beside him.

Once Nan was done, she wolfed down the burger and shoved her big furry butt in bed beside him. While she was fast asleep, his gaze remained fixed on the small Arabian lamp. Something... Something about it stirred in his gut. Part of him wanted to take the damned thing and toss it into the bay, while another thought no matter what, he could never be rid of it. He spent hours staring at it while listening to the roars of Nan's snoring. It was like he couldn't take his eyes off of it.

liesl voigt
black swanx|xoutfitx|x#19244e

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"Please don’t bash your head in,” He said, ”Then your beautiful face would exist only in my dreams, and I’d have no one to save me from Adrien’s weird power trip meltdowns at town-wide events."

Liesl smirked with a playful roll of her eyes. "Now who is the flatterer?" she asked with a quirked brow. The pair moved about the dance floor, not paying much mind to others around them. But even while dancing, she couldn't help but noticed the flustered Adrien and comment on it.

"Who knows. But he’d better do it soon, neither of them are getting any younger." Liesl chuckled softly at the comment. Hugo wasn't wrong. Adrien and Ricardo have been at each other's throats for years, with no pay off. She liked to see them go at each other, at least once before she died. Hugo then leaned in to whisper in her ear. "Does it ever strike you as odd, how obsessed Adrien is? I swear, you could almost imagine they’re secretly in love."

The comment genuinely made her laugh, giggling as he twirled her around. When Liesl was pulled back to his chest, she hooked her arm back around his shoulders. "Thank god they can't procreate... Could you imagine the ego?"

"You’ll be my date at their wedding if they ever work it out, won’t you? I don’t think I could survive it without you."

"Well, of course. What kind of friend would I be if I made you suffer that alone?" Liesl smiled at the prospect of that wedding. It would be a train wreck that she'd happily attend.

Unfortunately, their dance was cut short when Mrs. Picket took the stage. Just before she began her speech, Hugo took Liesl's hands and left her with some parting words. "You’re not a trophy to be won, Liesl. You play the game, and you play it well." She smiled as he placed a kiss on her hand and parted ways. His words were kind, probably the nicest thing anyone has said about her in sometime. It was funny how the only people who seemed to see any worth in her were the ones similar to herself. It was a lonely bitter world, but she was thankful for the handful of people who didn't judge her... Even if that number dwindled.

Liesl was less than interested in the speech. She was more focused on getting a glass of champagne... or two. She didn't save the drink until the end for a toast, instead wondering about through the crowd drinking the glass's contents freely. At the mention of the bidding being closed, she started making her way toward the table. The old broad said something about their numbers being out to show who won, but she paid no mind to the card in front of the antique necklace. She saw what Adrien's bid was and knew damn well that there was no way someone offered higher.

She took the necklace into her palm and for a brief moment she paused. Liesl couldn't put her finger on it, but there was something... Something off. But either way, as quickly as the feeling came on, it left and she paid no mind to it. She had no shame in putting the necklace on as the toasts rang throughout the hall.

The night had come to an end, and, surprisingly, Liesl found herself absent a man on her arm. She contemplated sauntering her way back over to Adrien to see if he was a man of his word, but his attention was fixed elsewhere. He stormed across the hall toward no other than Lorelei. For whatever the man was, he lacked in tact. He made a scene in getting her attention and storming out. And while Liesl felt no sympathy for her sister, it was quite a turn off seeing that man lose his cool so easily. That was something Ricardo had seemed to excel at in comparison.

Liesl didn't pay any mind to Adrien's outburst... that was until Ricardo beelined for the exit after them. Was this the moment the feud finally boiled over? Unlike others who might have lingered or been a little more subtle with their curiosity, Liesl wasted no time. Her footsteps quickened as she made her way to the door. She slowed only for a second as she walked past Hugo. "Looks like your wish might come sooner than you thought." She took his hand in hers and hurried them both outside.

Their timing couldn't have been better. It seemed the moment they exited the City Hall, Ricardo threw the first punch. While others might have watched in horror, Liesl found it all quite interesting. "I always thought Adrien would be the one to make the first move," she whispered to Hugo, keeping her gaze fixated on the fight ahead. And while the fighting was one thing, she never expected Adrien to pull out a gun. That was mad, even for him. "Spoke too soon..." she mumbled under her breath.

Luckily or unluckily, she hadn't quite decided, Office Hughes showed up diffusing the situation. For a moment Liesl thought Adrien might have gone through with it, but in the end, he was packed into a cop car and driven off. She couldn't help but scoff at the strange turn of events the night had taken.

She slowly looked back towards Hugo with a surprised expression. "I'm glad I didn't place a bet," she teased with a soft laugh. With a sigh, she slowly started to descend the stairs. "Looks like I'll be spending my night alone..." Liesl stopped halfway down to look back over her shoulder toward Hugo. "Unless you wanted some company?"

Setting

Essex, Connecticut

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#2021-07-25 04:43:26, as written by xarysin

Ciaran Paine
Will Scarletx|xOutfitx|x#6D0404

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Ciaran glanced over to Minerva with a furrowed brow with a confused look and mouthed, Tomorrow?. Minerva gave him an equally confused look and shrugged her shoulders. When Picket had left the stage, Ciaran turned to Minerva with a thoroughly confused expression and began to stand. “That was a really weird speech. Is there something going on that I don’t know about?” He straightened out his vest, quite done with the monkey suit and offered his hand to Minerva to help her up.

She gladly accepted. "I have no idea what that was about."

“Shall we see if we’re the proud new owners of some old ass blades?” They headed to the table of winnings. Most people had picked up their items and headed out. The two weaved through the remaining patrons to their items.

Surprisingly, they both found their names in front of their respective blades and like giddy children, high-fived each other, grinning ear to ear. They were inspecting their new, strange winnings when their attention was broken by commotion towards the doors along with the sight of Grayson rushing out.

He nudged Minerva gently, "Somethin's up, M."

Ciaran headed outside. He knew Grayson's job was to deal with emergencies and he equally knew his friend could handle himself but he was still Ciaran's friend and C would always try to be there as his civilian backup. When he got outside, he zeroed in on the guns. "Shit...". He instinctively put his arm out to try and shoo M behind him but she pushed his arm out of the way, stepping beside him to watch all the same. It was obvious by the sight of the bloodied and disheveled men, Adrian and Ricardo finally had at each other. Over what? who knows?

Grayson called over to Duval, "Put the gun down! You have three seconds to drop the weapon... Or I'll shoot. 1... 2... " As much as Ciaran wanted some excitement, thankfully Duval dropped his gun and no shots were fired by anyone. Ciaran was satisfied his friend was safe as he handcuffed Adrien and shoved him in the back of his squad car.

Without speaking to anyone in particular, "What did I miss?!" It was obvious Lorelei was involved in some fashion, but to what extent, it was unclear. She got into Ricardo's car though. Ciaran turned to Minerva, "I guess that's the end of the evening." He checked his watch, "I've got an appointment for some work tomorrow anyway. Where you parked?"

Minerva scoffed and headed towards the road and spoke in a mocking tone, "Oh big protector, are you going to walk me to my car?" She grinned and glanced back at him.

He followed, the sound of mock defeat in his voice, "Well I was. I ain't now.. You're on your own, missy. Best get good with that blade fast!" He did, of course, make sure she got to her car and on her way home before he hopped on his bike to head back to his property, new sword and dagger in tow.

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Minerva Moreau

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a character in “Storybook: A Grimm World”, originally authored by esoteric, as played by RolePlayGateway

Description

So begins...

Minerva Moreau's Story

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