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 The One Night Stand [Supernatural Walk-in]

Discussion in 'Open Roleplays' started by Villains, Mar 23, 2018.

  1. FridayWolf13

    FridayWolf13 Wild Member Member

    Messages:
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    Local Time:
    1:36 AM
    After no more than just a few moments of lingering in her own space, engaged more by the crackling of the fire than the other beings in the room, Hazel had already gathered the names of the trio near the bar. The sharp and intriguing young woman, Chance, held most of the redhead's focus despite the charismatic way Collin held himself between the two of them. The young shapeshifter couldn't quite decide what the other woman was likely to be. She had an almost imperceptible scent to her, something that both frustrated and garnered Hazel's curiosity as she finally allowed her green gaze to shift back towards her after a few moments of haplessly staring into the depths of the wooden table. The way she spoke was more confident than the redhead had any hopes of herself ever being.

    As Colin made his way behind the bar, her attention was drawn once more. His scent was almost imperceptible too, until a subtle shift in the air flow sent a whisper of something undeniably undead in her direction. When his gaze lifted and settled on her, she was already blinking alertly in his direction. She seemed to take a moment to glance to either side of her and ensure she was really the only being in this direction. Assured, she offered a small quirk of her lips and gratefully called out, her tone liltingly soft across the room, "A Tom Collins, if possible. If not, a few shots of something simple. Please." She'd never been picky, for one, and for two, it wasn't as if she'd feel anything she drank. Not unless this special bar carried special alcohol. But with the human seated near the bar, perhaps it was for the best if they didn't carry anything of the supernatural variety in that department.

    Decidedly, she stood and slowly made her way towards the bar to pick up her drink once it was finished. It wasn't even his job and he'd been nice enough to offer her a drink. No way in hell was she going to make him bring the drink to her. She offered a grateful smile as she leaned against the bar, eyes flitting somewhat shyly over Chance and Brock before settling back on Colin. "Thank you." Hazel brushed some of her hair from her face and added, "I'm Hazel. This is a pretty solid place here." Her eyes lingered over the not-so-human beings nearby, lips still quirked at the edges.
     
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  2. BoundObsession

    BoundObsession Naughty or nice? I can do both. Member

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    Colin listened to Brock's bluster with amusement. The cop was bigger than him, but he wasn't graced with speed or the strength of a vampire. And no matter how much Colin were to drink tonight, he would still drink Brock under the table. An annoying characteristic of vampire physiology was that no matter how much he wanted to get drunk at times, he couldn't.

    "You forgot one other reason why someone would be secretive, my friend. Namely because they don't think it's anyone else's bloody business who they are, what they do, or why they would be here. Your tabloids think everyone else's business is theirs. But your Constitution says otherwise. Baring a violation of the law, and I haven't heard you indicate anyone here has violated the law, the right to privacy is protected by your laws. Even a humble Brit knows that much." Colin finished his speech with a flourish, handing the Tom Collins to the new girl.

    "Welcome to the group, Hazel." He gave her a smile that indicated the previous conversation was done and past. "Oh, there it is," he then exclaimed, finally spotting the Demerara he needed for Chance's drink.
     
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  3. One Wing

    One Wing More than an angel Member

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    a6ce4d6764d2f50ccbafdf01497922ec--valery-kovtun.jpg
    A name unknown, from a time lost, there were ones who existed before the world of man came to be. It had been so long, with no track of time of human creation to clue him from when or where he came, that he knew not what he even was anymore. A small child that crossed his path only a century and a half before gave him the name that he now goes by: Set. A simple word with no meaning, but it holds an important place in his soul from that singular chance meeting. Set generally stayed away from crowds, only staying in one place for long enough and then moving on before anybody could suspect anything strange about him. In recent times, it had gotten increasingly easier to settle in an area for longer before bringing on any unwanted attention by those around him. Still, his looks were always off-putting to those who did not know what to make of him. He had hoped Valesport would be a city that he could inhabit for a time without having the watchful eye of those far younger than he.

    His face seemed like that of a young man, ranging anywhere from a teenager to a man in his late twenties, depending on the opinion of who looked at him. His pale face seemed to blend with his stark white hair, like a lone white rose among a blanket of snow. His eyes were the only shot of color that adorned his features, an ice blue that seemed to glow under the right lighting. A place as dim and dark as a bar would do nothing to show off these aspects of his person. His black leather jacket hung open loosely, revealing a simple white undershirt beneath that clung to his skin, leaving little to the imagination of his physique. Upon his legs were a pair of black pants and boots to match. A chain attached to his hip jingled with each step he took. This outfit was not something he'd find himself wearing, preferring something with more space for him to move around within, but the environment called for a certain look. That was the only trouble he had. Blending in was always a struggle, his looks could never change, but at least his clothes he was in control of.

    Shifting a bit in his jacket, finding the material heavy and uncomfortable, he strolled the streets of the city. Midtown was lively, and he'd be lying if he said he didn't enjoy the hustle and bustle. There were many sights to see and things to do. Perhaps when he's found some money to his name, he'd partake in a human activity or two. A small grin cracked the corners of his light pink lips as he continued on his way. A few people he passed would give him a second glance, but for the most part everybody paid him no mind. This was indeed a much better time for him to be. Lost in thought, he found himself in a different part of town. It was more rundown and empty. It felt very much like the time between, those millennia ago. He felt a strange sensation in his chest as he looked on with not a soul in sight. It wasn't until he saw somebody enter an old rundown building, a bar it seemed, that he took the opportunity to find some shelter. The weather did not bother him, but being alone in the open with no one around would draw some attention towards him from straying eyes.

    Opening the door, he took a singular step inside and saw a few people milling about. He didn't listen in on their conversations, understanding the rudeness of butting into others' business. Instead, he found a spot at a nearby table in a darker corner, waiting for an opening to move to the bar to get himself something. He did not need sustenance nor fluids, but the feeling of taking a sip of cool, fresh, water was always a pleasant feeling to him. As he sat there, he scanned the room, listening not to the words spoken, but rather the language used. There were many methods of speech in this species. He had managed to learn most of them, and luckily this was one he knew.

    When he saw one of the men bring a glass over to a woman siting by herself, he took this moment to fetch himself that glass of water. With quiet footfalls, though the chain jingled to give him away as being present, he approached the bar and glanced around, searching for the cups with which he could pour himself a drink from the sink. His silver brows furrowed in confusion, not sure where everything was in this place.
     
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  4. Villains

    Villains I made that bitch famous. Member

    Messages:
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    Local Time:
    10:36 PM
    [​IMG]

    Oh, how early the evening seemed as another entrant passed through the doors of the famed, albeit antiquitous, One Night Stand. Subtle glances found their targets, her stare remaining sharp as each potential morsel was cataloged under varying degrees on interest. A snack, a treat, hors d'oeuvres, a meal and a half. Her posture straightened, flexing the length of her buxom physique so not to appear too casual where she sat. It was the demand for honesty that earned a slip of expression, her charismatic smile fading slowly until all that remained of woman's previous attempts at considerate appearance was the steady rest of cobalt hues on the officer. She could sense his potential buried deep beneath a rough veneer meant to keep others away, but to what extent that thread of prospect went, she wasn't able to glean.

    He wasn't of her kind. That much she knew.

    "If I told you," Chance said under her breath, "you wouldn't believe me."

    An ominous admittance, she realized, but one that was rooted in fact by way of countless attempts of trial and error. Humans had very little interest in the great spectrum of supernatural beings in their midst because they felt safer without the thought of monsters roaming their streets and, in this case, frequenting their drinking holes. Chance was no stranger to enlightened mortals - the owner of the bar was one such individual - but she didn't want to be the bearer of bad news. Nothing could sour the mood more than life-altering revelations. Taking the silence as an opportunity to drag the closest ashtray along the counter, she ashed her cigarette with the expulsion of a long breath of smoke.

    "Alright," she said shortly, not wanting to talk circles around the resident human any longer, "Let me try and explain."

    Motioning offhandedly to Colin, she hoped he would understand that whatever she wished to say in response to him would need to wait until this matter with Brock was resolved.

    "I'm sure you've felt it. Something in the air that your sixth sense alerts you to concerning your surroundings. Massive at times, alluring or dangerous; a mixture of both. Perhaps you've always felt that power, or maybe you've only recently noticed it. The bar, this bar, wouldn't let you in if there wasn't something special about you." A pause. "You want to know what this is? This is a collection of individuals from all walks of life who are also aware of the energy surrounding this world as well as countless others. Some would call this energy magic. That's a simple enough concept to wrap your head around, yes?" With a gesture to the runic symbols in the walls, she explained, "That is magic older than the invention of the wheel. It predates most human accomplishments because nothing human was capable of casting it at the time of its conception."

    Taking a sharp inhale at the end of her cigarette, her thighs shifted to move one leg under the other carefully while she finished with, "And that much is the extent of my knowledge on this establishment. The rest isn't something someone like myself can guide you through. Your path is your own. But... if you don't believe me, well, go break a chair. Just snap a leg right off of one and see what happens."

    Flicking a bit more ash into the ashtray, Chance looked sidelong to Colin and offered, "If it is giving you an issue, I'll settle for a screwdriver. I'm not picky."

    @GMO
    @BoundObsession
    @One Wing
    @FridayWolf13
     
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  5. BoundObsession

    BoundObsession Naughty or nice? I can do both. Member

    Messages:
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    Colin's eyes narrowed when the pale individual came in, trying to decide if he recognized him as one of those he was hunting. But no, he wasn't one familiar to the Scotsman. A similarity of appearance, but not quite right.

    "Not necessary," Colin replied to Chance as he added the Demerara to the shaker and then the ice. Shaking it up, he strained it into a glass and slid it over to her. "Your Roman Holiday, lovely lady. The only question is, do you prefer the cinnamon stick or the mint leaves and the lemon wedge for garnishment. I've seen one or the other used, but never both."

    Of course, he'd made it without the crushed mint leaves, which she might consider an epic fail if she preferred that version of the drink. After all, he'd seen more than one version of the Roman Holiday. Which is why he reached out to stick the cinnamon stick in because that went with the version he'd made. He avoided a smug look, though he was feeling quite proud to remember the drink. Though it certainly wasn't anything he would drink. No, he'd stick to his Scotch.

    "Not every mystery needs to be explained, Brock. Sometimes it's best to accept it. Do I need to know how my Scotch was made? No, I just need to enjoy it. Granted, I do know how Scotch is made. But does it taste any different for the knowing?"

    "On the other hand there are exotic foods that may taste good to you until you ask the cook what it is. And at that point, you wish you hadn't asked. It's also at that point that you realize that there are some things best left unknown."
     
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  6. Sandman

    Sandman Sleep if you dare. Member

    Messages:
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    Local Time:
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    “There you are my lovely!” A deep voice bellowed from the street. A moment later the door flew open and a man matching the voice filled the doorway. He was barrel chested with tree trunks for legs and arms to match. A thick curly beard of dark auburn fell to his upper chest while hair a shade darker lay in waves on his head. He was only of average height, but this just acted to accentuate his broad, thick body.

    Wide sparkling green eyes shone out from a weathered face. There was a joy to them as if no trial could break the man’s spirits. He scanned the room intently searching for what he desired and stopped when he beheld the bottles stacked behind the bar. His lips curled into a mischievous smile, showing teeth that were scraped white, with canines a bit longer than normal. “Come to daddy, precious.”

    He crossed the room with purpose, it fortunate that no one happened to be in his path to the bar. A large mitt seized an amber filled bottle, and he pulled the cork before chugging the liquid in earnest. A small amount dribbled out of the corners of his mouth and into his beard before dripping to the plaid shirt that stretched against his muscled body. The man was clearly out of place, appearing more suited to a loggers camp than a big city bar.

    After downing half the bottle, the man paused to wipe his lips with the back of his hand. Realizing he had drawn attention, he smiled at the patrons giving them a slight wink as he licked the tip of one of his canines. “Dinner was a little dry.”
     
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  7. One Wing

    One Wing More than an angel Member

    Messages:
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    Local Time:
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    After a moment, Set found the shelf of glasses. Gently, he picked one up and poured himself water from the nearby sink. With a quiet sigh of his chest, and a serene smile, he brought the rim to his lips and let the icy coolness wash over him with each sip.

    Perfect.

    His almost meditative state with the drink, however, was quickly interrupted by a large, and loud, man barreling towards the very bar where he stood. He took a quick step to the side, just barely dodging the bear of a human. Wait....human? Set’s eyes furrowed as the man finished his drink and bared canines larger than what was deemed average among humans. With another glance around, he allowed his eyes to examine the bar’s inhabitants more closely. The man serving the drinks held an air of being older than he seemed. The woman by the fire had a strange animalistic aura. The bear of man seemed very much bear-like in both appearance and demeanor, though he wasn’t sure if that comparison was wholly correct. Something else was about him that he couldn’t quite pinpoint. And the petit curvaceous woman garnering all the attention, her words finally processed in his mind. (If I got any of this incorrect, please let me know and I will edit my post)

    Save for the inspector... “none of you are human....” Set vocalized that last thought. His voice was low, quiet, airy, his words coming across as a whisper brushing against one’s ears. Putting his glass down, he swiftly moved from behind the bar, his steps quick but smooth, as if gliding across the floor to examine these runes with a keener understanding of their origins. “Tell me...do you know of who has created these runes?” Again, his voice is quiet, but could be heard by the woman speaking with the human, despite his focus staying on the walls, “what stories do you have of them?”
     
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  8. GMO

    GMO Gymnastically militant orangutan Member

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    Brock said to Colin, "Slow your roll. We're all friends, here. I'm not asking you the color of your panties. I'm just saying that I'd like it straight. This joint is weird. You gotta see that, right? I just want a straight answer. I'm not trying to bust anyone and, let's be fair, Colin, you don't need to be the fucking Batman to see why you're here" - he looked over at Chance, then at Hazel, perked an eyebrow and a sly smile, as if to say he understood Colin's position - "even if I was interested to know, which I'm not."

    He drank the rest of his drink, poured himself another. "Membership has benefits," he said, idly. He sat on the edge of a stool and looked at Chance as she explained it to him.

    He let it settle. He drank his new drink. It was, right there on the face of it, absurd. You tell a cop that something happened because of magic and they laughed. Stay on the job long enough, you hear every excuse in the world. God or the Devil or ghosts made you do it. You did it because they were a witch or a demon or an alien. Cops said, Yeah, buddy, whatever you say, and made the collar.

    Yet, there was a feeling. It was there. He would have normally said it was the power of suggestion. People don't actually have the feeling of being watched - he'd been on stakeouts that lasted weeks and the targets went about their business in complete ignorance of the posse of cops following their every move. But if you were to tell a person that they were being watched, they'd start to feel it even if it wasn't true. And he considered the possibility that Colin was helping to shine him on by going along with Chance.

    What made him consider the possibility, though, was the newcomer, Set, who was also going along, talking about people not being human, and "runes" like he was on the cast of Vikings, and the dense guy who was guzzling booze like it was water. And because Chance had said something specific. Smash a chair. See for yourself.

    He smiled a lopsided smile at Chance. "I would have figured you more for the sloe screw type."

    He got up, grabbed a chair, and put all of his fifteen stone into swinging the chair at the ground. He was a powerful man and he knew it should splinter. He'd done it before.

    @BoundObsession
    @Villains
    @One Wing
    @Sandman

    And @ anyone else who wants to comment! ;)
     
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  9. BoundObsession

    BoundObsession Naughty or nice? I can do both. Member

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    "Damn!" Colin grumbled under his breath. The pale man had blurted out to the inspector that the rest of them weren't human. When you've got a copper sniffing around like a dog, the last thing you want to do is give him a bone. Brock claimed not to care, but if he didn't why continue with the inquiry.

    As for the runes the pale man was suddenly interested in, they looked to be Celtic and part of a protection spell. Maybe the reason why so few noticed the existence of this bar in the middle of the city. It also protected the inhabitants from violence. That would probably mean that if any of the vampires he was seeking came here, he couldn't kill them. Not here. This was a safe haven for all magical beings. He'd have to follow them when they left. That still left the question of how Brock ended up here, unless he had some link to magic.

    "Do they have rooms for rent upstairs, Chance?" It was still dark, but Colin was always planning where to lay his head before the sun could come up. And a magical sanctuary might be a good place to do that.
     
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  10. Villains

    Villains I made that bitch famous. Member

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    [​IMG]

    "Fast, slow... Whatever gets me off at the time." She quipped under her breath as she watched the human's progress.

    No need to distract from the main event.

    And splinter the chair did, to pieces and bits, forming a disheveled and ugly collection of broken wood on the floor. Chance raised a hand in an indication of waiting, allowing seconds to pass that felt as long as minutes. Whether Brock chose to drop the remaining frame of the chair did not matter; the process would work the same. Above them, the lighting dimmed, strobing, as a warm rush of air blew itself through the main room of the tavern. As though the establishment itself were drawing breath, it seemed to heave the walls around the patrons, careful as a caretaker with a swaddling babe, but unmistakeably alive.

    The fractured pieces began creeping toward one another, finding each nook and groove they originally inhabited before Brock's demonstration. It was quiet work, systematically recreating the sections of chair legs and arms and body until a seamless reconstruction of the previous seat was finished. Chance might've clapped if she hadn't seen the entirety of the bar patch itself after however many fights and arguments had spawned through the years. She had thought it difficult to explain fully, but the chair trick always did the job she couldn't. The smile returned to her lips as she asked Brock, "Did that help?"

    That warm breath of life from earlier released, allowing the lights to return to their usual dim luminance. Putting out her cigarette, Chance rose from her seat and sauntered around the bar counter, gingerly sipping the Roman Holiday Colin had made for her. "Thank you," she commented before squeezing past all the parties currently making drinks to rummage near an antique register. Under a stack of papers and a snowglobe paperweight, she collected a wooden depository and walked it over to where Colin could reach it. Lucky for all the potential overnighters, it was unlocked. "Since Errol never showed tonight, I guess I can explain how the rooms work. You take a key and read the number. That's the room you're staying it. Your stay is... well, as long as you like, I imagine. I've had my room for... three decades? Give or take."

    Finally given a moment to acclimate, Chance's eyes fell on the fair skinned male figure with the questions regarding the runes. He looked out of his element, though not because he had remarked aloud over the inhumanity of the current congregation. It was in his mannerisms and the softness of his tone. Lashes batting as she considered her response, the woman leaned against the counter and took a slow drink of her liquor. "I used to believe they were of Qareen or Abaasy, but an Abaasy once found his way into the bar and had no idea how to read them. Good luck asking a Qareen for a straight answer." Glancing over her shoulder, she studied a patch of intricate symbols, her expression thoughtful.

    "I can't say I have many stories of the runes. Of the bar itself, yes. Mostly in the way it handles acts of violence towards its interior or its patrons. I discovered quickly to take my conflicts outside if only to save myself the embarrassment of being launched through the roof."


    @GMO
    @BoundObsession
    @One Wing
     
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  11. BoundObsession

    BoundObsession Naughty or nice? I can do both. Member

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    Oh, the thoughts that ran through Colin's head as he learned that Chance had a room upstairs! He tried to remember if the Fae could read minds, since what was going through his would earn a slap in the face from most women. Since he traveled light, he slept naked. Did she? Pulling out a key from the box, he stared at it, wondering what room she had and how close to that key's room. But he didn't change keys, deciding to trust on the randomness of fate.

    Colin was tempted to do as the pale man was doing and study the runes. If for no other reason than to get lewd thoughts out of his head. But he decided to take the advice he'd given Brock and not ask too many questions. If the runes were Celtic, they were of an ancient variation he didn't know. So all he could do was surmise their purpose. The chair demonstration proved that some of his suppositions were correct. The symbols were some kind of protection for the establishment. Unless the establishment was alive and a sentient being. Now that would make for an interesting tale to throw Brock's way. But no. Best to leave well enough alone.

    He now knew why Chance was here. She was a resident and a regular. But what of the others? He may have preferred Brock not ask so many questions, but in Colin's case, he wasn't asking questions. He was theorizing in his mind why everyone else was here. For instance Hazel. A sweet and meek girl who seemed fascinated by Chance, just like everyone else was. He could sense she was a shape-shifter, but which kind? Certainly not a dragon. She was too meek for that. A Fae like Chance? That would explain her fascination with the woman. Or a were-creature? Possibly.

    @Villains @One Wing
    @FridayWolf13 @GMO
    @Sandman @Sanity43217
     
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  12. FridayWolf13

    FridayWolf13 Wild Member Member

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    Hazel had never been more than an observer in new and possibly threatening environments, regardless of whether she was surrounded by humans or those of mythical descent. Perhaps that was why, after graciously accepting her drink, she leaned her elbows against the bar countertop and let her fingers run over the rim of her glass. Though her eyes appeared fixated on the pale drink inside the crystal cup, her mind caught and focused on each sentence spewed through the room. As she listened to the easy back-and-forth between guests, she finally lifted the damp glass to her lips and sipped heartily at the top. It was intriguing, and almost terrifying, the way Chance carefully and confidently shared the secrets of the place. When Brock went as far as to break the chair, following her goading, the redhead nearly leapt from where she stood with surprise. Wheeling around, her hip and side pressed into the counter, and she watched with amazement as the whole building appeared to take a deep breath and repair the damage created.

    "Well that's an interesting and strong magic." Her voice was no more than a breathless whisper. Those without hearing close to hers might not even catch the syllables. She sipped from her drink once more, relishing in the feel of it down her throat as the others slowly returned to the comfortability as before, save Brock. And the newer arrival, who for all Hazel could tell, appeared human as well. His loud and boisterous demeanor was more than enough to derail her train of thought and keep her from gathering a focused scent from his direction after he'd set himself behind the bar. At the mention of rentable rooms, however, her attention was captured completely and she listened with diligence to the surprisingly easy way to acquire one such room. When it fell quiet for a moment, Hazel emptied her glass and turned towards Chance. She licked her lips before speaking. Her heels were already clicking softly across the wood as she ventured closer to find a key for herself.

    "What if the rooms run out? Have they ever run out..?" She perhaps spoke with naivety; not much thought put into the questions. But Hazel had a knack for simplicity. She had questions and she needed answers. It was that easy in her mind. When she finally grasped a key from the box, she hummed with approval. "Yes. Cool." As long as the room had a clean bed and maybe a clean bathroom, she'd be more than thrilled. The shape-changer didn't know the last place she'd felt this safe within. And with the kind of protection spells upon the place, her instincts might even allow her a good night's rest. She tucked the key she'd claimed into her sweater pocket-no pockets available in her flowing dress-, the room number already memorized in her mind. Not quite ready to leave the compatible atmosphere yet, she slowly lifted her drink to her lips, tasting the cool glass against the tip of her tongue before the alcohol slipped down her throat.

    With a satisfied hum, she finished the drink and slid the glass towards the back of the counter so she wouldn't knock it over. And perhaps so she could remember to attempt making herself a drink in a moment. Hip still leaned against the counter, she brushed some stray ginger-auburn hairs away from her forehead and let her gaze flicker curiously over the room's inhabitants, lingering on a few in particular. The senses that normally shrieked warnings and incessant pleas for escape were quiet, mostly buzzing at her instincts with an occasional whisper of curiosity aimed at those that mingled nearby. What is this place? She wondered. And just how long can I get away with hiding here? Will they find me, even in a place so magically secure? But the question was, even if they did find her.. would this place allow them to enact their will?
     
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  13. GMO

    GMO Gymnastically militant orangutan Member

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    When the chair broke as chairs tended to break when smashed, tossing the remnants to the ground, Brock raised and eyebrow and felt like a fool. He was about to own being duped, though, when the pieces started move. He'd even try to stop one, crouching to grab at it, but all he got was a nicked palm for his trouble. When it was back together, Brock got his drink, sat on it. Yep, it was a chair. It held his weight as one might expect a chair to do. He finished his bourbon in one gulp, and despite having previously decided it was to be his last - he was a big man and a hard drinker, but he didn't normally get shitfaced in public - he got up and poured himself another.

    He said, generally, to the people assembled, "So, this 'not human' thing. You all look pretty human." Though, as a group, far, far more attractive than the average - was that normal, too? Were supernatural creatures better looking than, what was the word, normal people? "If not that, what? The guy with red eyes? Vampire? It feels cliched, but LARPers usually are."

    The rest were harder reads and Brock's knowledge of the supernatural was all pop culture - movies, comic books, and D&D. It floated through his head: What's really human? Was it something like DNA? Vampires would have human DNA, though. Probably nothing as simple as that, then. Probably some sort of connection with - part of his mind still blanched when thinking the word - magic.

    He told himself to think like a cop. Why would a person - a wizard, maybe? - make a joint like this? Same reason gay people had their own bars, he reasoned. A place to feel safe with one's kind. He didn't feel like their kind, but it stood to reason if he was here at all there was some shared connection. Or maybe just luck on his part. Stupid luck was responsible for more than most people wanted to admit, looking for reasons where there weren't any.

    Then... all that Catholic shit came to the surface. Demons and sin. He grimaced, shoved those thoughts aside because they were stupid. He was already damned. The way he lived his life? What would a little witchery and demons hurt? You can't be damned twice.
    He mostly directed his next question to Chance, though he would listen to anyone's answer, "Okay, magic, not human, all that. Why am I here? I'm just a Catholic boy from the East Side."


    @... well, everyone!
     
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  14. BoundObsession

    BoundObsession Naughty or nice? I can do both. Member

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    "Well, obviously Brock, you've got something supernatural about you. Something buried deep in your genes. Otherwise, I suspect the One Night Stand would have stayed invisible to you. Given your Catholic upbringing, I would have suggested holy powers, but somehow you don't strike me as an angel. But if you're a good Catholic, then you already believe in magic and angels and demons. So why should you suddenly become skeptical now?"

    Colin gave Brock a smirk. To him this was all so obvious. But granted, it wouldn't have been so obvious if some bloodsucker hadn't bitten into his neck in 1815. He believed in even less than Brock did back then. All he believed in was money and gold and the pirate code. Why he and Jean Lafitte had hitched their fates to General Jackson, he had no clue. And if he had to do it over again, he wouldn't have. It was in battle that he found out there were vampires. But only after it was too late for him.

    "Another Tom Collins, Hazel?" Colin was beginning to realize he was doing too much talking. A point emphasized by how quiet the girl was. He was not normally this talkative.

    Another question to ponder. If Brock had something supernatural in him, and if he was a long-time resident of the city who had passed this way before, why did he only now discover the One Night Stand? Why not sooner?

    @Villains @One Wing
    @FridayWolf13 @GMO
    @Sandman @Sanity43217

    ((OOC: Is Sanity still with us?))
     
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  15. Sandman

    Sandman Sleep if you dare. Member

    Messages:
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    Local Time:
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    The bear of a man watched the chair shatter, and grinned. “This is my kind of party.” He stated before taking another long swig.

    ((Just keeping my character in the scene.))
     
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  16. FridayWolf13

    FridayWolf13 Wild Member Member

    Messages:
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    Local Time:
    1:36 AM
    When the chair had completed reassembling itself and was once again whole, Hazel watched with some interest as Brock sat himself down and tested its stability. A short laugh escaped her mouth, which she quickly hid with her hand, a few freckles brought to view under the light across her knuckles. Magic was certainly a thing of great wonder. There was no doubt about that. But it was almost mythical in itself, the almost-childlike way the detective peered at the chair and then sat on it, accepting it for what it was once it studiously held up under his weight. The tiny smile remained on her lips as she listened to the two men closest to her speak. The world was a terrible and yet wonderful place if you saw it for what it was. And with a 'human' having walked directly into a 'supernatural' safe haven, it was surely leaning towards the wonderful at the moment.

    Realizing that she'd been addressed, her bright eyes settled upon Colin. After a moments delay, she dips her head apologetically and murmurs, "That's extremely kind of you. If you don't mind." Her gaze flickered between where Colin was standing behind the bar and where Chance and Brock remain at the countertop. When she glances away, she's once again drawn into her own mind. The ice had started melting on the glass she'd recently emptied and she watched the condensation begin to gather on the outside of the glass for a long moment. She sees pouring rain for a second, blinks, and then it's gone. The boisterous voice from before snaps her focus back to the present.

    "Is this a party?" She answers in return, glancing at the other few pairs or solitary 'people' strewn through the bar, before her hazel eyes settle upon the so-far-unnamed man. "Doesn't seem to be much really happening. Besides the chair breaking, that is." The subtle smile that quirked her lips was friendly. It might've been considered a long time since she'd tried to be less of an introvert, but now was as good a time as any, in this violence-free bar. "Not that that's at all a bad thing." Her thick tresses of red-auburn are brushed back over her shoulder absently, her eyes still roving the man's features before politely averting her gaze.
     
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  17. Sandman

    Sandman Sleep if you dare. Member

    Messages:
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    Local Time:
    12:36 AM
    The big man shrugged at the redheads question, as his grin widened. "Well, where I come from, we would call this a 'good start'."

    He emptied the last of his bottle before offering his hand to the girl. "Name's Jim by the way." The bear-like man had a jovial air about him. His smile, twinkling eyes, and hearty laugh was welcoming to anyone looking for a friend. If one were searching for something else though, something darker, and they looked beyond the good natured front, they wouldn't have to go far to see Jim was a man of extreme violence. The question one might have a hard time answering though, was if Jim enjoyed it.
     
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  18. One Wing

    One Wing More than an angel Member

    Messages:
    20
    Local Time:
    1:36 AM
    “Abaasy.....Qareen....” he whispered the two under his breath as he softly ran his fingertips across the etched in character upon the wall. He closed his eyes and allowed his mind to wander, searching and sifting through what he could, but ulimately shook his head, forlorn with the result. “No...those names do not ring any bells with me.” He opened his eyes and sighed, turning to the rest of the crowd but focusing more on Chance. “Rather, they do ring a bell. I feel as if I had heard of them before.... but sadly, not the bell I was hoping they would ring.”

    He gave a sad smile, letting out a small huff through his nose like a brief chuckle. “Thank you for the information, though. It’s much appreciated.” With one last glance around the bar’s walls, taking in the image of every marking, he finally moves back to his seat and settle back into place as he was before, sipping at his water.

    He eyes wandered to the people in here, finding them a bit more intriguing now that he understood they were not as normal, or as young, as he initially thought. He listened to the conversations more closely now, his curiosity getting the better of him, wanting to understand the company in which he found himself. That’s when he heard Jim introduce himself. He supposed this was a time as any to give the others his name as well. He nodded his head and lifted his glass slightly, as if engaging in a toast, albeit a minor one, as seemed to be the custom among most in this part of the world. “Nice meeting you. I am Set.” He then glanced away, looking towards the others to see who else would share a name.
     
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  19. Villains

    Villains I made that bitch famous. Member

    Messages:
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    10:36 PM
    [​IMG]

    Contrary to popular belief, Chance wasn't the keeper of sacred knowledge regarding the tavern or Brock's latent supernatural qualities. She was, if anything, a well-rounded guide of the local variety and the most recent lines of questioning were well above her pay grade.

    "Well," she admitted to the officer, "I can venture what you might be if you'd like. Your lineage may include a magical being capable of procreating with a human? Otherwise, you are similar to the absent owner, Errol. An anomaly of sorts. Somewhere buried deep within your fundamentally human anatomy, you may possess the proper genetics to harness magic." Idling against the counter, her vision crossed the several faces present in the barroom before it rested on Set once more.

    "As for you, I doubt you will find the answers you're looking for here, but this is a place you can be comfortable for the time being and I suggest you acquaint yourself with the area. As you can see, all manner of beings passes through the One Night Stand. Eventually, one such as yourself might come along to provide more answers for you than I am capable of doing." It was unfortunate that she wasn't capable of giving a more thorough response to the pale fellow, and just as it had been in the case of the detective, she could not read Set well enough to glean the information necessary to help him. Not that she was much for helping to begin with, but if it passed the time, she was open to dabbling in altruism.

    Making a general address to Hazel, Chance replied with a chuckle. "No, I can't recall a time there were no longer rooms available. Vacancy is half the appeal of a place like this." Her drink was half drained by the time she gathered herself to return to the patron side of the bar counter, her expression falling onto a comfortable simper she often wore in public. Her predatory interests had yet taken hold, leaving her as calm and collected as one might expect of an old timer in their usual hangout.

    "I'm Chance, by the way. So many unfamiliar faces tonight - I expect I owe you all a welcome. Apologies that the staff isn't present, but she's rather mundane and spends much of her time running errands." Back to her stool she went, effortlessly perching before crossing her legs. "So, Brock, has something changed for you recently? New cravings or urges? Were you bitten?" All the cliches one might think of when associating metahumans were possibilities, so she started with the basics. "Did you piss off someone enough to earn a curse? Did you make a bargain with a demon? I'm ruling out Vampire because you have a day job, but someone else might know more on that than I do." Slyly, she glanced to Colin as though the pair were sharing that particular secret.

    @GMO @One Wing @FridayWolf13 @BoundObsession @Sandman
     
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  20. GMO

    GMO Gymnastically militant orangutan Member

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    Local Time:
    1:36 AM
    "Obviously," he said to Colin in a way to say that it wasn't obvious at all. He didn't feel supernatural. Then he laughed, twirled the glass his drink was in at the suggestion there was a link between Catholicism and holiness. "Considering what they justice department of every state in every country in the world is finding when they look into the Church, there's probably the opposite of a connection between holiness and the Church, whatever that is. But... I guess I believe in angels and demons? As, like, abstracts, spiritual beings or something. Not guys having a drink in a bar. That's a joke. Lucifer and Michael were in a bar, and Lucifer says to 'You know why Artaxerxes crossed the Rhodes,' and Michael stabs him with a flaming sword. But... something supernatural. I've had worse starts."

    There were a lot of people around town that claimed supernatural powers. Now... he knew that some of them were possibly real. He sipped his drink, trying to wrap his head around it. He felt as though he was in a bubble of shock. The enormity of what happened was too vast to process all at once. It was one of those "everything you thought was real isn't" moments, but how does the brain handle that? What did the Aztecs feel when Cortez washed up on their shores, a visitor from another world? Didn't they try to fit him into their worldview and end up having their world destroyed? He couldn't quite remember.

    He leaned on the bar and looked to Hazel and said, "I'm not sure if Colin's request is kindness, typically understood, but it's definitely friendly. And a party is where you make it. If we had a band, it would definitely be a party. I know a few songs if anyone's got a guitar.
    "And Jim over there's definitely in a party mood, if party means 'alcohol poisoning.' How are you not blind?

    "Set is a good Biblical name. No, that's Seth, but I bet they mean the same thing.

    When Chance said that his background might have been produced by something supernatural in his family tree, he laughed. Then he shrugged, drank more bourbon, and said, "I'm not sure I would have thought magic was passed along in DNA. That kind of kills the mystery a little, like a biologist could sort all of this out. I could send in a sample and get one of those charts like they do about ancestry. Except instead of being 11% North African, I'd be 11% vampire and... okay, that's the only supernatural thing I know, and I don't even know if they can have kids. But, yeah, Chance, maybe I should get my own fucking answers."

    He raised an eyebrow at the question of whether he was bitten. "No, no bites. It's just..."

    He thought about what had changed. The only thing that leapt to his mind is his feelings about the work he'd done - the sense of justice was gone. It was just brutality in someone else's name. Not even his own brutality, but proxy work for assholes without the guts or drive to get their hands dirty. It was dirty. The difference was he felt the dirt. He rolled his tongue around his mouth. He half shrugged, looked back to Chance.

    "It's just that I realized today that I'm a miserable fucking human being and I'm making the world a worse place than it is. That's it. That's what's on my mind. I didn't get into police work to be the bad guy. I wanted to help people. I swear to God, I wanted to help people."
     
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