|| ᴛнᴇ ᴀʟιʙι || - Grand Fall Re-Opening

Halloween Event Ideas

Masquerade Party	37.5%	[ 3 ]
Monster Smash	25.0%	[ 2 ]
Something about the Fey	37.5%	[ 3 ]
Other (PM me!)	0.0%	[ 0 ]
Total Votes:			[ 8 ]

[The Sauce of Legend]

Rod wouldn't wait too long before he stepped back up inside the establishment, albeit in a far more collected mood than previously observed. His face remained casual, but his permanent half scowl couldn't hide away the rows upon rows of shark-like chompers sprouting over his normal set of pearly whites. He couldn't stop the change, it was his vice when the night grew long, so he didn't make an open fuss about it or seem to care all that much. He was ugly as it were, so he kept to himself about the matter until questioned otherwise. His eyes remained their inky black texture, and his skin had begun to scrawl over in wide rivets of gray and black.

He stood away from the bar-top and leaned against his usual place upon the far wall nearest the front door, his bare upper half revealing what appeared to be a scar that encompassed most of his chest like a jagged bolt of lightning that spiraled into the tail end of his lower back. Whatever had happened to Rod most likely had left him on the edge of his life, the scar a definite reminder of his remarkable resilience to death itself.

He crossed his arms, observing the giant man and the red head. Big a** weirdo, and some harlot. Nuts to them. He gave the monk a wide glance and yet said nothing to him, having seen the katana regardless of protocol. The monk could stay in the establishment and hold onto his weapon, as the new rules stated. He would not get any more hassling from Rod this night...

Either way it was no matter to the ever vigilant bouncer. If weapons were exposed in any violent manner he would snap into action, quite literally and figuratively.

[Kallistiae]

((Hey guys, just a heads up - I'm moving this weekend so posts from me might be a bit slow. The apartment complex has free wifi at the clubhouse though, so once I get s**t unpacked I'll probably be posting periodically from there, but I might be hard to get a hold of for just a few days. If it holds anyone up, feel free to post without/around me until I get back. :3 ))

[ImNoHero]

Bjorn | Bear
The Viking

"Aye lass! I'll take mine medium rare, no seasoning of course!"

He chuckled lightly after shouting in delight at the thought of steak, especially if he didn't have to kill for it. Not like he had a real issue with hunting, it was the norm of a man that traveled and had little to no funds. He was self sufficient. Speaking of travelers, this Monk was a new growing point of interest. He had met Monks, Holy men, on a few raids to the eastern lands. Though none of them looked quite like this. Similar, but not the exact same. Irregardless, Bjorn felt faithful to his Gods, and since he last encountered Kai, he had learned to except that no God was the only God. He figured at some point in time, at one place or another, their were and are different Gods. Instead of assuming others for false Gods, Bjorn felt that were all true, and that some Gods come and go. Old Gods die to give way for the new. Such is mentioned in the 'Creation of the Cosmos'. At it's end, after Ragnorok when the cosmos is destroyed, it will be created a new, with new Gods, new people, new everything.

"Tenkai, I'll remember it Holy Man, I am Bjorn. You may call me Bear. I too am a traveler. And though I am a man of the Gods, it might not be yours."

He was eager to see how this conversation panned out. He felt half bad for assuming the worst. Though something told him this Monk wasn't Christian.

Current Attire: Off-white cotton top, Black fur pants (bull pelt), boots.

Tenkai Matsumoto

One Truth Prevails2184

Killer of Suns

Kallistiae

[Kallistiae]

Just like a shark I will tear you apart...
you wont even know what you did...

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Kai gave her enormous friend a quick thumbs up as she scanned the room, counting heads absently as she tried to tally who all was staying for dinner.
With a rough count in her head, the wolf slipped back between the swinging doors, humming to herself as she began pulling items from the fridge.
Steak and seasonings, as well as a small handful of potatoes were all thrown onto an enormous tray that she balanced on her hip as she headed out the back door.
Kai didnt actually have a grill - after the purchase of the building, and the wide tract of land surrounding it (a necessary purchase not only for her own convenience once a moon, but to provide the all important buffer zone between her clients and the Real World in the city beyond), and the renovations to make the old house livable again, divvied up and kitted out to serve as a bar, it had been a miracle that she'd had enough money left over to buy liquor to stock the shelves. She didnt have a single dime left - well...metaphorically speaking, anyway, as it hadnt really been her dimes that paid for it all in the first place. Either way, a nice shiny new grill had been well beyond her budget when all was said and done.
So, Kai had done the next best thing, and considered it a better choice indeed.

There was a smallish pit dug off to the right of the yard, a few paces away from the porch. Sunken into the ground and ringed with stones, it blended in to the landscape and was barely noticable until you came right up on it and realized that it was a fire pit. Ashes of previous fires shifted around idly inside the hole, and Kai scooted them around to make room for new fodder.
She set the tray down on the back porch railing, and went to the shed along the side of the building, where a small stack of firewood was kept.
The wood was tossed unceremoniously into the pit, and a bundle of firestarter retrieved from the shed and set ablaze.
It took a little more poking and proding than might have normally been necessary - despite the fact that nearly every building she lived in had the uncomfortable habit of catching ablaze, Kai didnt have much experience setting fires. When she hunted, her meat was eaten raw.
Still, she got it up and burning, and a moment later had dragged a grate to place over top of the flames. Half the steaks went on one side where they sizzled merrily, a line of potatoes separating the other half, to which a healthy dose of seasoning was added.

For the time being, Kai seemed content to stay out here and tend the steaks, crouched down on her haunches beside the fire, idly poking at the flames or the logs or the food itself now and again. Her bare toes curled themselves in the dirt and the grass happily as smoke billowed lazily around her, carrying the scent of cooking meat high on the air before it drifted away with the wind.
She had to say...she though she was doing pretty good for herself, here.
She'd gotten the place up and running. Got a skeleton crew working staff in only the first few days. She'd already had several clients come in for her product, and struck a deal with a local King Pin on the rise. She had tenants, she had customers. She had steak.
Vincent would be pleased, he would have to be.
He might be a little annoyed she hadnt asked first, but she knew how he felt about these backwoods bars. He always turned his nose up at them. Better to beg forgiveness, than ask permission, right?
Right.
Besides...he had enough money, he'd barely even notice it was missing. And she'd pay it back with the profits she pulled in from her deal with Bishop.
He'd be annoyed, but he couldn't be too mad at her, when he saw how good she was doing on her own. And he was always harping on her to let him buy her things...

The little wolf squirmed by the fireside, looking almost nervous for a minute before she pushed it away.
This wasnt any different than all those times he'd had to wire her money, or send her new clothes and weapons after some odd catastrophe left her broke and half naked on the roadside (which happened with more regularity than she would like to admit).
It would be fine...

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...and I'll try to spare you the pain of my jaws
...but it's just in my nature to rip and to shred

⚜ Location: Backyard
⚜ Status: Grilling

[The Sauce of Legend]

In a town not so far away...

Burn burn burn this old town with its church and the dogs that never stop whining until they've s**t the bed or stabbed the neighbor or dragged another boneless fish into the cellar to skin, void, rape into something so grotesque it is beautiful, so insane it is nothing but pure in it's tainted essence, perfect in it's crooked dance to a crowd of people who cannot clap for their hands are melted as one, boiled into the arm-rests of theatre seats now burning, burning, burning...

Thum.

Thum.

Bring us to a graveyard where I can snuggle into the cold dirt next to a boy or a crow or a whole family piled up to a mound, some cinnamon sweet bile coating the inside of my nerves like a snake slipping under my shredded skin, so painful, so right...So..so..

Levi's left hand groped forward, swatting at dust motes and squiggled lines playing over the screen of his useless vision. His lips twitched, eyes trying to open as if the sun were glaring straight into them. Bricks fell in from thunderclouds, crashing into teeth so brittle they burst the cosmos inside this machine, a ghost rising pale and shivering from a wrathful skeleton dancing forward, skittering on broken ankles, wishing, wanting, kiss me now..

"It's bright. It hurts..Oh...."

"My mom used to say pain is good. Pain means..you're alive. It's...It's what makes us know were just dyin' but that's good..Right?"

Levi tried to sit up yet found that he couldn't. He laid back once more with a groan pulled from deep within his smoke scarred lungs, every breath a painful lasp that left him only wanting more. Static broke over his emaciated forearms, banding up to his flared nostrils before trailing away into ethereal nothingness. Several children bantered along the streaked asphalt affront the alley where he laid, their voices wavering in and out like shadow puppets playing over ceramic houses that opened in front of his shivering eyelids, specters giggling to and fro so close they caressed him with their chilling breaths, woke him in the dead of night to shriek out obscenities against no one but himself. All of every day had gone by so fast it culminated into this particular moment, a worthless reverie of years spent eating and shitting and killing when the killing was good. Time was an illusion so quick to bite at the psychopath's heels he had learned to hate it, loathe time so much he wished to hold it down, rape it's throat out with fingers bound in barbed wire and a tongue affixed in steel so racked in bloody poison he spit it like hot praise, a viper to the world's destroyer, killer of obliteration.

His eyes fully opened, and rain fell hard over his upturned maw, echoes for sons and daughters to rush in, be safe, come home falling over his storm deafened ears. He rose under the torrent, the smell of sulfur and sweet wetness bringing him to breath in fully, likening to a stench so close to toxic death it stirred his loins into terrible knots, his brain hitching as lightning blurted the ebony sky above.

"Where am I?"

“You’re still in the same town killing the ego.”

"I'm gonna kill. That's for sure..."

"Shut up, shut up!!" He cried, begging to be free of the shackles of a known broken mind, his own, broken, mind. He snapped to the left, snarling at no one in particular. He barked like a rabid dog, eyes growing wide like a man beyond reasoning with, looking off to things only he could see. His lips quivered, face scrunching up like a frightened child recently scolded, tears exploding from the corners of his blistered eye sockets in fat droplets. He felt over his abdomen, tracing his numb fingers up to the point where a heart once beat. Was it still beating now? The voices were quiet.

The rain boomed from overhead, drowning out the radio waves...

[DoV-gnilkrad]

【〖【〖 ＥＬＳＥ ＷＨＥＲＥ 】〗】〗

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When the thick hand reached across the table to touch high on his wrist a scar peeked from underneath the suit cuffs for a keen observer, Leon leaned into the touch and warmed his smile for just a second, before ‘mastering’ the expression back into something more formal. He had his orders: woe him if necessary. Somewhere between watching Vincent, Lorelei, and historical fictions about courtesans and geisha, Leon had learned how to make a very purposeful expression look like a subconscious slip. There wasn't pride in it. There might have been, under different circumstances. When he was finally able to deceive Vincent, then he might be able to brag about skill. Or if his … associate wasn't quite so ...him* than it might have even been fun. But his stomach twisted around a cold iron core, and Leon had to actively stop himself from pulling his hand back before the ‘flirtatious’ threshold was reached.
“Oh, it’s nothing,” he said offhandedly, adding in gracious dip of his head, “old news, I wouldn't want to bore you.”
“Leon, you couldn't possibly bore me more than you already are; all this business.”
Farely laughed at his own joke, while Leon tried to find it. “Can’t you enjoy such a pleasant day -” it wasn't ever a question with him. He barked rhetorical questions like they were commands in a horse, wheezy voice.
On the table cloth, Leon started to tap a pattern from the strain to his patience.
One. Onetwo. Onetwothree.
It had been a very long lunch meeting already, and negotiations between Aveux.A. and Leroy-Leclerc pharmaceuticals were expected to continue.
Damn Vincent.
Farely waived the waitress order and, with far too much sweet talking, ordered dessert. She turned to Leon, somehow making the motion into a bouncing curtsy, “And you, dearheart?”
“No,” it came out far too sharp. Leon was staring at Farely with a brittle, patient smile. When the looming presence didn’t leave, he flicked his hand at her in dismissal, and, hesitantly, she bounced away.
Damn Vincent. And Damn that Leon knew fully well that it would take leading him on to convince Farely. He was an intelligent businessman, but shrewd. “I hadn’t realized I was boring you. You seemed so interested in our resources last time. I thought the development would interest you.”
Farely groaned and leaned back in his chair. He’d been trying to change the subject for a while now, and Leon kept on insisting on keeping this professional. To be honest, he wasn't sure how far ‘woo him’ went. At a certain point, Vincent was under contractual obligation to save Leon… But he’d broken the contract before. Farely was notorious for expecting all sorts of gifts from his associates. It’s how he got into the supernatural business. Vampires were so fond of gifts. Leon didn't know what Farely was; Human, Eldrin, Mage, Changeling, Shifter, Other. He didn’t know what tastes he had. But…. But Vincent needed the money, in a nice, clean cut legal way, and Farely was perfect. He could damn well make millions if he just stopped ******** around and concentrated… One. Onetwo. Onetwothree.....
Vincent was notorious for giving gift.
Beady eyes shot sharply to his tapping finger and, suddenly aware he was doing it, Leon stopped. He leaned back in his chair as well, running a hand along the sleeve as he did so, feeling the long, ragged scare wrapping up his forearm.
It still hurt sometimes. When he pressed it against something cold, it stung like it was trying to open a new. And when the adrenaline got pumping, it ached, bone deep.
“Development,”
he scoffed. “A handshake with some third party halfway around the world. You're a step closer, but materials will be the easy part. Fact is, you don’t know if it’s even possible yet. A development would be some breakthrough with the science.”
“As I said, Dr.Grunwald-”
“-Hardly a respectable -”
“-highly accomplished in this field. Discredited unjustly by people who don’t understand the full scope of his inquires.” That got another bark of laughter. “I’m sorry, did I say something --”
“Ohnono. I just haven’t heard to his work put so delicately before.”
Leon went maybe a little too still, and dreaded the question he slowly put out, “How have you heard it put before?” He knew what he’d heard himself. When you poke around the very few people who overlap medical knowledge and supernatural knowledge, certain names come up. Dr. Grunwald was a trusted acquaintance, as far as Vincent was concerned, and Leon put his full faith in the ‘mad’ doctor. It wasn’t his fa-- it would have been so much worse, that night, if he hadn’t been there. If Kai hadn’t got the treatment she had, and if that Vu was to be believed with her folklore.... it could have been worse. And Vincent could have been worse. And Leon could have been worse. His reputation in the academic circles might not be shining, but Leon knew first hand the efficacy of his practice. It was bound to raise questions, though. His keen interest in the biology of magic. And Leon could only imagine what ways he phrased ‘medical exploration of vampires’ to get grants.
Farely just laughed again, and told Leon he wouldn’t want to give a nice-boy like him nightmares.
Leon made the grimace into a suggestive smile, “Boy?” It was his turn to scoff with a mock wounded pride. The conversation moved on.

It was a beautiful day. Mid afternoon, sky an endless, crystal blue, just enough clouds that the sun didn’t hurt his eyes. The street the ate one quiet. The cafe probably had the best espresso in the city. Lyon was too industrial to have a downtown spotted with these relaxing little shops, with lace curtains and quiet music. The Historic District was the only place you could get real culture these days. The cobblestone streets were too old and too riddled with the Traboules for heavy traffic. Instead there was the dull roar of voices, and hundred, quietly conflicting songs from art shops and gallery doors all flung open to enjoy the young days of the season.
And, in front of him, Farely managed to hold two different textures of skin and twice as many patterns of fabric. His forehead as thin, stretched taught like it might split open any second. But underneath his eyes dropped in heavy folds of weather worn skin. He wasn’t beautiful. He didn’t even have the mystic of disfigurement to make him interesting. He was just bad craftsmanship and badly delivered one liners that left your skin crawling. Crooked teeth grinned, half rotted, grinned when the waitress finally came back with what should have been his card and the receipt.
The card was returned. She shifted her body language away from Farely, and cleared her throat until Leon looked up at her for the first time. “It was declined, sir.”
“What.”
She tried to hand it back to him. “It was declined. Sir.”
Jovial laughter shook Farely’s chins, and with it, the tiramisu that clung to the corner of his mouth. Wordlessly Leon plucked back his card, to replace it with a different one. “I didn’t know your client was so desperate! Honestly, Leon, you should let me get lunch.”
“We don’t need your charity.” There was an ice in his voice that he’d learned from sleeping with dead. Leon could only ever be a pale imitation of his ‘client,’ but the tombstone solitude had been turned on him before, and these days, it could feel like Vincent was leeching more than blood…. Not always. Just… just enough that Leon… he didn’t think about how he learned that tone.
“Oh, but you do. You do need my charity. That’s what this is all about.”
“It’s not charity; it’s an investment. We need time, and initial funding. Your company will have exclusive rights to the product - we know how long you’ve been looking for a replacement, Farely. Don’t pretend like this offer doesn't interest you.”
"It can’t be done. You're asking me to throw away my money, for what, again?”
It would have been a fair question, if not one exhaustively covered already, if it hadn’t been for the tone. He leaned forward over the table, making like he was going to touch Leon again. The innuendo oozed between his words. The reason Farely had a blotchy complexion and seemed to leak what Leon could only hope was sweat was the reason why he wanted the narcotic. No vampire would have him these days. Whatever he was, it didn’t stop him from… getting sick, we’ll say. Too many sets of fangs for too many years left him …. sick. And his body tried to compensate. It made his breath smell like decomposition under the mint, and his eyes yellow. Leon knew what was expected of him. Dangle himself like a carrot, and maybe, just maybe, if Vincent was in good humors, he wouldn’t be Farely’s ‘gift.’
The waitress came back, “We’re all good!”
He hadn’t realized he’d been holding his breath.
It was the first time in his life a card had been declined.
Since before he had a real concept of money, he’d had more than he could spent. A little Princeling of the modern world, Leon didn’t loan out hundreds or even thousands. He lent out companies. And collected debts in international trades. Vincent had been alive too long, with too attentive a business instinct and too many ‘heirlooms’ from the days before capitalism for any of his pets to ever worry.
It hadn't quite dawned on him he should be worried. There was that heart-dropping moment of panic, but he was quite sure they had the assets needed to buy lunch. Of course they had the money. It was a flaw with the account, that was all. . . Only when he was handed back the card, did he really think about there was a problem with the account. Ever since he ... well, Leon thought of it a a promotion. The legal side of the business wasn't his idea, it'd been punishment. But he took to loopholes and red tape exceptionally well. When he wasn't forced to think about maybe being sold of like a piece of meat to a half-dead-maybe-human by Vincent in the name of good business. But playing at lawyer meant he didn't have time for the books anymore. He'd hired someone to take over the ledger for him. Apparently, that had been a poor choice. There would be words about this.
“So what was that, then?” He asked, the moment of ‘seduction’ [twitch] broken by the waitresses sudden deliverance [Leon made a mental note to tip her extra well for that one].
“That, I’m, sure, was Mr. Portinari. New accountant - I’ll have to call him tomorrow.” His voice died into begrudging mumbling as Leon tucked his wallet away and shook his head in dismissal. He took a deep breath, standing up, and offered his hand. “We’re asking for an investment, Mr. Farely. We came to you because you have a long standing interest in the narcotic, and it will be marketable.”
“What makes you so sure?”
When Farely didn’t take it, Leon slide his hand into his pocket and donned sunglasses that were, perhaps, a little to fabulous to be respectable. “We’re not trying to make it synthetically.”
“There aren't enough vampires to supply it any other way.”
“There will be.”
“Where? Whose? Even if you get fledglings, no Sire would stand for it. What you're suggesting is worse than poaching, pomme de sang.”
He put a hand on Farely’s shoulder as he passed, simply saying with a reassuring pat,“India.”






* For as much as Leon loved to surround himself with artists, he had only mild talent himself. None of that was in language. He picked up phrases from here or there, but when it came to describing someone, Leon was at a loss unless there was a due date attached. The loss was half again to for Mr. Renard C. Farley III. Ordinarily, someone might use the word revolting, but Leon was still finding a pleasant way to phrase that

❝тнσsєиιcєв я ι ɢ н тcσℓσяs,тнσsєɢяєєиsσғsυммєяs,❞
ｈｏｗｙｏｕｍａｋｅｕｓｔｈｉｎｋｔｈａｔ『 αℓℓ тнє ωσяℓ∂s α s υ и и ץ ∂αץ』

[Kallistiae]

𝒸𝒽𝒶𝓇𝒾𝓉𝓎 𝓇𝓊𝓉𝒽 𝒶𝓃𝒸𝒽ℴ𝓇𝒶ℊℯ
CAIN

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MY LITTLE MISS BEGOTTEN // YOU'RE QUITE A STUBBORN BUD // IF WE CANT MAKE YOU OPEN // WE WILL TAKE IT OUT IN BLOOD

Small feet stuffed into overly large boots shuffled their way through the dirt and the dust of the back-road path, as if their owner was drawn in by the wafting scent of food cooking nearby.
She was not, actually, because her sense of smell was not that good, but her sense of timing seemed to more than make up for it.
The figure was clearly a child, though she was in that awkward, gangly stage where her age was hard to judge. She could have been anywhere between 12 and 15, though judging by her size she was likely a great deal closer to the younger end of that spectrum. She was a scrawny thing, with the kind of build that might be called 'lithe' when she grew up, if she was very, very lucky. For now though, 'scrawny' was the kindest way to describe her build, her arms no thicker than a sticks with her skin clinging tight to what little muscle she had, making her limbs resemble something like a halloween decoration poorly wrapped in flesh.

The child had a blocky, square jaw and a squashed looking nose that gave the impression it might have been broken recently and healed a little flat. A dusting of freckles sprayed their way over a stubborn, grim looking little face with eyes that were only 'blue' by the virtue that 'slate' is not a color we normally attribute to eyes. Her hair was shaved on both sides of her head, leaving a lanky strip in the middle that was dyed a bright, cookie monster blue, and laid across her scalp in a lazy, listless sort of way.
The childs gender was completely indeterminable, though if one had to guess they usually guessed 'male'.
She had that look about her, with the masculine jaw and hard eyes. Not to mention her dress.
Baggy jeans, tattered and worn looking just about everywhere hung off her hips in the popular street style that allowed several inches of plaid boxers to be seen. This was not a fashion statement - the jeans were clearly second hand, and several sizes too big for her. A problem that was only compounded by her narrow, shapeless hips which refused to give the pants purchase to hold on to.
Any curves that her upper body might have had based on her physical sex were mercilessly flattened by a tight tank top, whose sole purpose was to smooth out the uncomfortable, embarrassing lumps of fat that were developing against her will on her chest. This tank top was worn underneath a gray, tattered wife beater, whose surface was decorated with several stains that could have been either BBQ sauce or blood.

The child had a small duffel bag slung over her shoulder, into which was stuffed every single earthly possession she had to her name, as well as a few earthly possessions that technically should have been attributed to other peoples names, but she was fairly certain they wouldnt miss them, and if they did, she didnt really care.
The few features about her face that might have marked her as feminine - a soft, full lower lip, large eyes, and a certain round shape to her cheekbones - were all trampled into the dust by the lengths with which she went to cancel them out.
Those full lips were currently engaged in wrapping around a cigarette that looked just as grubby as the rest of her as she pushed the front door of the bar open and shuffled inside, trying to look both inconspicuous, and as if she totally belonged here.
These are two very hard things to accomplish, as they both tend to counteract one another, for being inconspicuous tends to involve a fair bit of sidling around and sneaking, while looking as if you belong in a place you clearly do not belong usually requires a great deal of swaggering and standing up straight.
Trying to do them both at once was in no way successful, and it merely meant that she did an award sort of crab-walk shuffle further and further into the bar, grey eyes sweeping the room suspiciously, scanning for threats with such single minded determination that...she completely forgot to look where she was going.

And bumped straight in to Rod.
Grey eyes swept upwards towards the mans face, her tiny overly masculine pride raring its head and demanding that she find a few obscenities to throw at the fool who had clearly run in to her, but whatever words she had been about to speak died on her lips.
The cigarette hung limp in her mouth for a moment as she blinked up at rod owlishly....
"********], the hell happened to your face? You ugly as s**t." she told him, just on the off chance he wasnt aware. Grey eyes glanced around the room for back up on this subject, clearly wondering why no one was bringing up the fact that half this mans face was missing. "Mary and Christ, you outta warn a ********. Sneaking up on folk with a mug like that, the hells wrong wit'chu?"

Cain took a few steps to the side, clearly trying to edge away from the bouncer and towards the bar, without taking her eyes off him - either because she did not trust him enough to take her eyes off him or, like a train wreck, she couldnt quite look away from the ruin of his face.
"You aint even got a shirt on, man, the hell? This is a restaurant, bitches be walkin' around half naked and s**t..."

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∞ Location: Inside∞ With: Rod∞ Status: s**t, son

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Killer of Sons

[The Sauce of Legend]

Kallistiae

Rod had seen the kid a mile away. Little creepers is what he called kids, and this one was a junky sort. All gangled out and street kept, like a china doll run through the meat mixer a time or two before. He was that kind of kid growing up, always rebelling against the labels the world had sought to brand into his forehead, always willing to pick up a brick and break something because it felt right to get into the old way of things.

It felt good to be strange.

Still, he was going to teach the kid a lesson in manners.

The meta's face seemed to expand, and his smile doubled open, suddenly twice the normal size a mouth should extend out. It was surreal, the parting of his lips to reveal glistening miles upon miles of serrated edge so akin to a shark's own that to think of him as anything else at the moment would've been a sheer lie. His black eyes swirled over as he took one step forward, lips shirking back inhumanly so that more rows could be seen popping out in jagged lanes across the expanse of his shifting face. He was a monolith before a dirt rinsed flea, his shadow falling instantly over the little girl. He crouched quickly, a near bounce in his step that would be quite unlike how he limped around during the daytime hours. No, this was a different side of Rod, the meta side of him. He jittered, leaning forward to take a keen appraisal of the foul mouthed child.

"You cheeky little c**t." His voice was warped into a sardonic bellow that reverberated the space affront him, his enormous frame vibrating visibly as the pseudo-steel inside of him further attuned outward.

"Must be your cunter father who taught you how to compliment grown folks. Seein' as his [******** face isn't around to take care of your derelict a**, aye? Little ********' drugga." He would attempt to shove her flat on her a**, not giving a crap that he was effectively bullying a child around like a big dog to a really really really small dog. "Think you're tough, like you've got words to say little s**t? Guess your mother didn't spank you around enough seeing as that piss poor excuse for a human being ain't around either. Think you're wise aye? Come here you little [********]."

Whether he had successfully pushed her down or not, he would then snatch her up by the ankle and drag her into the air upside down, cackling all the while. "I should ******** EAT YOU TINY MORSEL!! MUAHAHAHAH!!" He would hold her high over his mouth, his jaw expanding open like a death blender set on overdrive. His mouth really was big enough to swallow her whole, and he made sure to show her this by dangling her precariously close to his dangerous chompers...

"It's your lucky day mini dike. I'm not hungry for street rat...But I'm gonna show you what your ******** parents shoulda done to ya, little [********] with a mouth like a harlot."

Rod would then attempt to slag the child right up onto his outstretched knee and spank her until she screamed uncle or otherwise, his hand cupped for control, but he wasn't holding back too much say for the fact she was a frail little girl and he understood he couldn't smash into her for God's sake. He was, however, spanking her effectively and with notable gusto.

"Teach you, some ********, respect, little, s**t!"

[XOne Truth PrevailsX]

Maxwell Brooks

Location:The Alibi. Mood:Vexed. Company:Patrons of The Alibi.

He was deep in thought when beautiful red head came back into the room. He hadn't moved from behind the counter all night since it wasn't his night to sleep. He had the bottle of single malt whiskey laying on the bar drunk down until there was another glass left, and he wasn't even buzzed. The crimson eyed man turned his attention to the monk before looking over at Doll, giving her a reassuring smile. After she left he spent half the night thinking about how lucky he was that his own son was safe, and the other half feeling sorry for her.

Maxwell nodded to the monk when he ordered some tea, and said that he would have one drink and be on his way. "Stay as long as you would like." He turned his eyes back to Doll, placing a finger up to let her know he'd get to her in one moment. He disappeared, and reappeared in the kitchen to prepare the kettle to boil tea. Maxwell set it on the stove, turning the burner on high. He disappeared, having teleported back behind the bar once more. "Tenkai, it will be take a few minutes for the water to boil."

The pale skinned male turned his attention back to the red head, giving her a friendly smile. "There was no need for you to apologize to me last night. I did not take any offense to anything you said, or did." He turned around to grab her bottle off the shelf. It might as well have been hers since she was the only one who drank from it. Maxwell took a bourbon glass from behind the counter, placing it beside the bottle. "Were you serious about that lime?" He said with humor in his voice as he unscrewed the cap, holding it in his hand while he filled her glass up. Maxwell placed the cap over the rim before sliding her glass forward. "Maybe I should have poured your drink in a plastic cup." Making light of her dropping the glass the night before.

[XOne Truth PrevailsX]

Gabriel Fox

Gabe turned around when he heard the commotion, watching as the young girl showed a lack of disrespect for her elder's, something that was rampant in the time they lived in. His sapphire orbs flicked over towards the shirtless behemoth who stooped to her level by cussing back at her. He watched on, his mouth open and a cigarette handing half way out of his mouth. He stood to his feet when the bouncer pushed the girl down, and stood there in shock as he held her over his mouth as if he were about to devour her.

"She's a stupid kid, but he's not much brighter stooping to a child's level." Gabe sat down, and turned around when he lowered her down, and spread her across his knee. "That's what he should have done in the first place." Gabe laughed to himself as he took a drag from the cigarette, smoke streaming from his nose and mouth as the blue eyed man took a shot of the cheap vodka.

[ImNoHero]

Bjorn | Bear
The Viking

Initially, Bjorn was unsettled by the man's choice to yell at the child in such a manner, though her mouth was just as harsh, her tongue just as sharp. Still, she was a child. Then, the bouncer yanked the kid up and threw her over his knee. As if it came natural, he began spanking the child. Enough to learn her a thing or two, but not enough to actually hurt her. She'd have a sore a**, but she'd be fine otherwise. Chuckling lowly to himself, the Viking hung his head in shame, shaking his head 'no' slowly as he fought the laughter. Served the youngin' right, wash her mouth out with soap while he was at it he should. Or make her his slave and raise her proper. As proper as one could anyways.

Current Attire: Off-white cotton top, Black fur pants (bull pelt), boots.

[Lady Lotus Doll]

Location: Her Room Emotion: One is Never EnoughWearing:
Spring is Here Current Status: Full of Anxiety OCC:



The girl spotted Maxwell, and a perplexed look fell over her face. Kid looked like he not move. Great. the thought was so bothersome, it even dripped with sarcasm as it was being created. So her little ‘scene’ had bugged him? Enough for him to stay awake at least.
”Ugh.” The Russian panted, the silence still sealed with her precious smile. True, the dislike was apparent, however even with some tough questions she knew was headed her way, a part of her, the part that was still considerably ‘female’, felt flattered. Even if what had happened was not the reason he was up all night, the picture of his face after the glass dropped, was enough. And as soon as her gaze met his motion, she swallowed a quick breath and waited his return.
Her extended red hair, sat in a messy braid at the nape of her neck, her skin, she hoped had returned to it’s natural clear, fake, plastic look, instead of remaining tear stricken. She knew she’d have to get it together, after all, depressed Russians, historically speaking, never turned out good for anyone involved. All the years as a worker in the sex profession paid off, shutting off her emotions was the easiest thing possible. Her back straightened and the sly smirk returned to her face, the stitches flexing along with her muscles. A part of her, as horrifying as it was. Lengthy lashes flashed quickly as she nodded to Maxwell, his cue being understood. The Eastern Barbie headed to the bar, awaiting Maxwell’s return.
A noise caught her off guard, as the bouncer she had seen before, snatched up a young child and swatted his a**. The woman’s mouth fell open, in an exaggerated glance, reminding herself of Scrooge McDuck, jumping into his pile of money. As rude as it might have seemed, the Doll couldn’t help but laugh. Too Amusing. While the girl looked heartless at the young kid being hit, she was reminded of when she had been a real person. Her life took place in the late forty’s, behind the sheet of the Iron Curtain. Slovak Children knew better than to speak to an elder like that, with a Communist regime, their life depended on it. Doll decided this Rod guy was okay. Their tempers were alike. The puppet made a quick reminder to buy the man a drink.
Maxwell had returned almost as quickly as he left, and the former Madam was caught off guard. Turning back around, she gestured to the scene behind her. ”You miss it. But it was funny.”
Watching him grab a glass, she sighed, taken aback by his sentence. ”Well. I was nowhere near drunk enough to act that trashy.” She retorted, thinking back to the shattering of the glass. ”Believe me. Most people suck, not worth time. That is why I suck in social situation. No practice.” She giggled, nodding to the request of the lime. It was the next sentence, however.
”Oh plastic cup!” She laughed, clearly showing sarcasm. ”Oh boy! That exciting. Can it be red? Since it our first kegger.” Doll joked, giving him a playful glare through her eyeliner. ”No. I big girl. I get big girl glass. I grown up. I only color in color in coloring book one night a week.” She chortled, shaking her head.

[XOne Truth PrevailsX]

Maxwell Brooks

Location:The Alibi. Mood:Content. Company:Patrons of The Alibi.

Max smiled, and shook his head laughing a bit. "Believe me, I saw enough of it to know she got what she deserved. Maybe a little more, but that will teach her not to disrespect her elder's." Maxwell opened the bottle of whiskey, and brought out a glass from under the bar which matched the one he served the red head with. He raised his glass to her, and took a drink before placing it on the scarred counter top that he had grown to like.

Having an eye for detail, he had practically memorized every scrape and mark that ran down the battered counter. The half demon shook his head profusely at her first sentence, waiting until she finished speaking before he would reply. "It was nothing. And you might be right about people, but I do not consider you a part of the most. At least from what I know of you. I do not really understand social skills. I just listen, and speak and strive to be kind and polite. Do onto other's."

He laughed hard when she mentioned the plastic cup which was his way of making light of the situation. Maxwell nodded while still laughing a bit. "It should be exciting. We only hand those out to people who drop the glasses. So far that has only been you." Maxwell said with humor in his voice as he began laughing again, wiping tears from his eyes. He looked her up and down, giving a nod. "Even someone like me who does not see women as a piece of meat can affirm that. I think you are lying about the coloring book though." The crimson eyed man said with a smile on his face, lifting his glass once more. "You are good company. I have not laughed in a long time."

(My sleeping schedule has been whacked, and that's why I haven't been posting as consistently. I'm getting it in order though.)

[Lady Lotus Doll]

Location: Her Room Emotion: One is Never EnoughWearing:
Spring is Here Current Status: Full of Anxiety OCC:



The Doll found herself misplaced, happily mind you, in her conversation with the sweet young man. Well, surprisingly old. But as she sat back against the bar stool, it occurred to the lady that she as well had not had a relaxing time in a while. In fact, with Maxwell revealing the lack of laughter , Doll gave a skeptical look. He seemed friendly enough. Hm.
The puppet tipped her glass to his, the smirk returning to her face as she spoke. ”I glad you do.” It felt….odd, having a conversation with someone that wouldn’t hand her money as she sent him to one of her many girls. Weird. ”You should no be so serious, all the time. You should laugh. Makes worth it.” Perhaps an Anatevka reference? ”Us Russians, we party. We party hard, we party when we happy, and we party for miniscule,” Her pale forefinger and thumb squeezed together in emphasis, ”Tiny, tiny, happiness happens. Even in sad times. Right after war, Orwell’s prediction came true.” Doll was well quoted. Most assumed the short dresses, that made her top of the game, the half-attempted flirting that led into awkward mornings after, and the sultry looks she always seemed to give, that the woman had s**t for brains. In fact, quite the opposite. Doll was a genus by every definition. She was extremely intelligent, and it wasn’t odd for her workers to often find Anatomical science books tucked around the house, or spending late hours into the night playing chess with the maintenance crew and the high ranking officers after their hours were up. ”We were dying. Too much power, too much control. But, even with no food in tummy, or no right to speak opinion, we laugh and smile, and celebrate. Night my village was raided, Night my friends were killed, after, we” Doll paused a moment, recalling that night. ”We find out, that a sweet officer that would check on us, was marrying, an officer we hated. She was mean. But, we still celebrate. In middle of depression. We woke up, and it privilege denied to many. We knew that.” She moved her hand , lightly dragging her long pale kaki nails against the back of his palm on the counter. ”You life could end any moment. Spending it not celebrating, you rob yourself, and people around you. You have great smile. Should use it more.”
Doll took another sip of her alcohol, recalling her arm back into her own reach. ”Lime did it. I hate change.” Laughing softly, she watched Maxwell’s eyes before went back to staring across the bar at the many new patrons. ”I no violent person. But you give me plastic cup, and I show you how good my baseball pitch is.” She chuckled again, sincerely having a good time. ”And, I no let you color. Kicked out of couch fort, forever. Give me plastic cup…” the accent glittered with a playful smile. ”Be last thing you do.”

[Kallistiae]

𝒸𝒽𝒶𝓇𝒾𝓉𝓎 𝓇𝓊𝓉𝒽 𝒶𝓃𝒸𝒽ℴ𝓇𝒶ℊℯ
CAIN

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MY LITTLE MISS BEGOTTEN // YOU'RE QUITE A STUBBORN BUD // IF WE CANT MAKE YOU OPEN // WE WILL TAKE IT OUT IN BLOOD

TThe most important thing to note about Cain is that she was unquestionably unequivocally 100% straight vanilla human. Oh, she had seen some weird s**t to be sure. She had peeked under the coffin lid, and seen the monsters that lurk in the shadows. It was easier for children to see past the Masquerade. They dont have as many societal filters yet, those little screens in our brains that weed out the weird and unexplained, and tack on neat and tidy little reasonings to make sure the uncomfortable reality is a bit easier to swallow. No one ever believed her, of course, but that didnt mean she didnt know the monsters under her bed were actually real.

Unfortunately, this knowledge did absolutely diddly-s**t for her in terms of real world aplication. The child jumped, startled as Rod lunged for her, her nerves tense and scrawny muscle taught with unease as she took a few shuffling steps backwards. There was nothing about her face that was apologetic for her words - nothing that even indicated she knew an apology might be due. Rather, her expression settled into something stubborn and purposefully unapologetic, just to spite him.

The childs square jaw jutted out, looking even more blocky with the mulish expression now scrawled across its face. The broken nose seemed a little more crooked as she huffed during Rod's outburst,, clearly unimpressed as she took a drag off the grubby cigarette clamped tightly between her lips. She opened her mouth to say something back - and juding by her mulish expression, it was likely to be something peppered with colorful swearwords as she told the bouncer just what she thought of HIM in return - but a large, ham sized plam connected with her thin chest, and sent her sprawling backwards before she could speak.

"HEY! THE ******** IS YOUR PROBLEM, COCKSUCKER?!" the child roared as she fell backwards, scrabbling for something to catch her balance on and failing miserably, landing hard on her a** as she glared up at Rod. She might as well have been glaring up at a mountain. She turned an unflattering shade of pink, her shame burning a brand across her face all the way to the tips of her ears, making the freckles and the dirt stand out even more. Grey eyes snapped with the fury of a small, wounded pride and the child seethed as she tried to pick herself back up off the floor. She wasnt a fool - there was nothing in her posture that promised a return attack. She knew what she was, and what she was, was...well, small. She could cut his throat in his sleep maybe, or piss in his beer when he wasnt looking, but an outright physical confrontation? Cain had a touchy pride, but she was not suicidal. She would have been forced to let the incident go with only a few scathing swear words if only Rod had been finished with her.

Quicker than he had any right to be, that meaty hand shot out again and grabbed her by her ankle, easily wrapping around the whole of her leg as he hoisted her into the air. Cain flailed wildly, giving a surprised holler as the ground fell away from her, upside down and skewed as she swung up and then over an enormous mouth. An impossible mouth, filled with impossible teeth, each on razor sharp and serrated with a row of like-minded brothers behind it, prepared to filet her alive and slice thin child-flesh into tasty ribbons of meat before he swollowed her, likely in one easy bite. Instead of blanching in fear, the child snarled her indignation, her fury going beyond the pink flush of bruised pride and into white lipped raged

"PUT ME DOWN YOU PICK ******** SON OF A WHORE!" the girl demanded, her voice a roar as the long stripe of hair in the center of her head dangled perilously close to those sharp teeth. Her heart raced with her impending death, making each detail of that maw stand out with the kind of perfect clarity that brands itself behind your eyes forever. Cain gave no thought to the fact that she could die - the young never do- but she gave several long and unplasant thoughts as to how much those teeth would hurt if they touched her. Small lips pursed and spit the glowing ember of her cigarette, along with a sizable wad of her own saliva, directly at the bouncers face, hoping beyond hope that she caught him in the eye.
She probably didnt, as her ability to process her surroundings was compromised rather a lot by the fact that she was still dangling upside down and swinging wildly with her flailing. She wasnt even sure what was happening when the world started to move again, she only knew that she was moving away from those skin ripping teeth, and for that she was grateful...for all of about 7 seconds, which is precicely how long it took for her to realize she was being spread across his knee.

"WHAT THE FU-" she started to roar again, but her swearing was cut short by her own teeth rattling in her head as the first blow struck across the seat of her pants, the impact shaking all the way up her spine to vibrate in her skull. Cain howled, a sound that was more embarrassed rage than pain as she squirmed in her prison.
This was an entierly new development for her.
Thats not to say she'd never had a spanking or even a beating before. ITs just that they didnt usually happen in relatively well populated bars, right out in public like this. The shame of how easily he manhandled her, how he treated her like such a child, the indignity of being spread across his lap a** up for the world to see...that was FAR worse than the stinging pain his palm delivered. Grey eyes prickled, wet for a moment with impotent fury as she squirmed and flailed...and was finally able to reach the top of her own boot for one brief second. Her fingers were quick and they found the handle of the switchblade she kept there, pulling it out fast and in a single gesture twisting so she could slash it awkwardly at Rods chest.

"LEMME GO YOU ********' PERV! COCKSUCKING LITTLE WANKER, GET OFFA ME, WHAT THE ******** IS YOUR PROBLEM IT AINT MY FAULT YOU SO UGLY! LEGGO SHITHEAD, LEMME GO!" The child roared and squirmed, stabbing wildly, her frustration and fury making her as difficult to manage as a wildcat as she did her best to scramble backwards and out of his lap. She was not surprised by the response of the building. It was her experience that no one EVER came to help. The best you could hope for was that they would pretend not to see. The worst...was their laughter, and her fragile pride bruised a little more as she heard chuckling throughout the room under her yelling.

"LEMMO GO YOU SICKO! WHAT, YOU SO UGLY YOU CANT EVEN BUY A WHORE, SO YOU GOTTA GET YOUR ROCKS OFF SPANKIN KIDS INSTEAD?"
Cain twisted and slashed again, this time trying to get Rods groin under her knife, and she used any distraction the blade might have caused as aid to squirm her way off his lap and onto the floor where she could scramble away towards the relative safety of the bar.

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∞ Location: Inside∞ With: Rod∞ Status: s**t, son

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Killer of Sons

((Whew. Sorry for any typoes or issues with coding - typing from my phone is hard. >.e
I should have normal internet here Monday or Tuesday, and then i'll be back online for realsies. Sorry for the delay))