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Madeline sat in her small apartment, a bare apartment with just a bed in one corner and clothes on the other side in her closet but an apartment none the less. Life had not been easy ever since her country had fallen and she was released, forced, from duty. She was proud to be a soldier, she was proud of her unit and those who fought along side of her, but all of that was stripped away from her. The memories and visions haunt her and the only way that she can get rid of them is to drown them out with the very bottle of whiskey that she held in her hand right now. Losing everything she only saw one way out and that was to take her own life, but somehow and somewhere she was reminded of a different path. When she joined, her dream was to make a world where there would finally be peace among the countries and among the people... Yes it was a naive girlish dream, but a dream none the less. She took another drink from the bottle of JD then caped it and placed it in her fridge. She didn't have to worry about work cause it was soon going to be shut down by the government and with the fact that she didn't join the new world military she was pushed out of their safe society, she wore the uniform but not their uniform and there for was treated like crap.

She looked at the America flag which hung on her wall right next to her Class A uniform and her Multi Cam uniform, both on hangers. they brought back the memories of what she was fighting for and felt that something needed to be done. All of the resistance fighters in the area were being slaughtered and she was responsible because she was the local and almost only weapons dealer in all of the slums. She was tired of sitting back and watching these young men and women dying in this underground war, she wanted to get into the fight. she was tired of moping around and feeling sorry for herself. She wanted to take action and make a difference like she did before. Now was the time more than ever. 'I will never quit, I will never accept defeat, I will never leave a fallen comrade.' she repeated in her head over and over again to get herself ready.

Once she was sober she got up and showered and changed into her old uniform and left for the local bar, fully strapped to the teeth. M4A2 Rifle with A COG scope and 203 attachment, and M9 Beretta, 400 rounds for the M4 and 80 for the side arm, she was ready for war. She was tired of sitting back and she was going to fight. She didn't care if she had to do it on her own, She was going to fight and she was going to either win, or die trying and leave the enemy with a nasty cut that the others could attack and hopefully bring them down. She was fighting for her home, her people, her land, but most of all she was fighting for the flag that rested on her shoulder. She approached the back of Sangria after some time and knocked on the door. She waited silently sitting on a trashcan and lit her cigarette. She needed to know what she was going up against with the tech that they new world had and she needed to find a hole that was vulnerable, better to ask someone rather than not know at all and the bartender was the best person for the job. He always knew everything.
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Lior Ayers

Not the best Role Model

    The apartment? Couldn’t be shittier. All the furniture looked like it was pulled off a street corner after a few days in the rain. The couch had more cigarette burns than a zebra has stripes. Empty bottles and cans took up virtually every surface, some weeks old and probably molding on the insides. Ash trays overflowed, and the entire place smelled distinctly like cat piss. Every chair held at least one passed out person, some of them a few. The couch in the middle was the biggest, and held three; some cute, anonymous middle class girl on the left, a working stud on the right, and in the middle, like a king on a throne of filth, quietly napped Lior.

    He looked right at home snuggled between these two strangers, at least one of whom surely considered making a move on him sometime in the early hours of the morning when everyone finally hit a wall and passed out, barely falling asleep before the sun finally came up. His clothes were ruffled, but miraculously clean – Lior was, of course, an old hand when it came to partying (he was the last to pass out, of course). Cradled beneath his arm, between him and the cute girl, was an empty handle of rum. A now-extinguished cigarette, more than half ash, perched between his lips, trembling slightly with each shallow breath.

    And there he lay, from sunrise into the evening, sleeping off the hangover to which he’d grown accustomed. However, as the sun started to sink below the horizon, some deep, innate, sixth sense stirred within Lior Ayers: it was night again. He felt it deep in his bones, in his subconscious. And with that, he jerked upwards, the cigarette bursting into a small cloud of ash. Lior leapt to his feet and glanced around at the other partygoers, most of whom were starting to stir. He, of course, didn’t like what he saw, lips curling into sneering disgust.

    [/******** shameful, guys. Seriously shameful. I’m gunna go get plastered.”


    Someone somewhere in the room groaned, and Lior flicked his cigarette in their general direction, and then walked out of the apartment, managing to miraculously not step on any of the sea of bodies passed out on the ground – again, this was all old hat to him.

    He stepped out into the frigid November evening, instantly thankful that he’d worn his parka last night. It was cloudy, windy, and threatening rain. Perfect weather to hole up in some dive bar and drink himself under the table. He glanced around; it was rare for someone to have an apartment in Section Three; he wondered briefly if whoever lived there owned the store beneath it, or simply rented it from the owners. Then he realized that he absolutely did not give a s**t, and shrugged, walking aimlessly away. It didn’t take long for him to find a bar – one of those quiet, out-of-the-way, everyone’s-a-regular places, the glowing sign informing him that it was called “Sangria.” How quaint. He bee-lined for the door, bursting through – Lior liked to make an entrance.

    The place looked like a real dive, though it was surprisingly not empty.
    “Let’s get the party started! Bartender, round of shots for…” Lior glanced around at the clientele. Crazy looking ******** sitting at the bar, what looked like a nurse, pissed off guy in the corner. And that’s not even counting G.I. Jane out front (Lior had walked briskly past her, avoiding eye contact at all costs). Huh. Well, wouldn’t be the weirdest crowd he’d ever partied with, “Um… round of shots for these guys. Vodka, and not the cheap s**t!”

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                                                            LOCATION: La Sangria
                                                            COMPANY: The bartender, the total clutz, some weirdo, & a generous happy-go-lucky man.
                                                            OOC: N/A

              DAMIEN LANGSTON
          _______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________


                  Just as the bartender left to get his order, Damien pulled out his wallet from his pants’ back pocket. When his order was given to him, Damien gave an adequate payment and slid it to the bartender’s direction with a small nod of thanks. The pharmacy technician was holding up his glass to his eye level, observing his liquor until he heard the doctor call him stoic. Although the educated girl lacked social skills, he would have surely expected her to have some manners and a bit more of professionalism. Karma relieved his faint irritation and manifested in the form of papers. He would have been more than happy to let her pick up the mess that the brunette had created but she seemed every bit of hopelessness he had expected. Pathetic girl.

                  With a sip of his liquor, Langston placed his glass down and left his seat to assist the clumsy failure. Pinching his pants at the knee level, he then crouched beside the child and picked up some loose papers, carefully arranging and organizing them. “What’s wrong? Can’t hold your alcohol?” Damien was far from amused but it was his respect for Yumiko’s father that he reminded her how stupid she’s being. “You have no clue what you are doing here, now do you?” It was more of a rhetorical question. “Disclosing private information in a public milieu. You sure do know how to beg for attention, child. May I suggest you going to the library the next time to desire working outside of your clinic? A bar is not the most appropriate place to be productive. Really, you should know better.”

                  Apparently the King of Grouches was able to fix her mess faster than she could say ‘stoic’. Cupping and lifting the child's chin, the dark haired man imposed eye contact. “If you really wanted my undivided attention, you could have simply called me by my name. Just to remind you, I dislike the name-calling game but you are more than welcome to call me an a*****e, Dr. Amaterasu.” Not that Damien would waste more time with the naïve child. Done with gathering someone else’s mess, the pharmacy technician placed the papers on the counter, flipping them over… what good would have that been, they must have seen all the information if they wanted to. He moved back to his place and chugged his glass down. “You’re more than welcome to give my glass to her,” he replied, nodding to Dr. Amaterasu as he readjusted his glasses on his nose bridge. “Maybe a little alcohol with give her the grace that she so dearly lacks.”

                  Holding up his arm, Damien checked his time on his watch, pensive. Ah, right. He had completely forgotten about his family’s dinner party. If he leaves after his second glass, he will have time to go back home and get ready without being late. The King of Grouches cared very little about his relatives but his love for his deceased grandfather had him tolerate all the nonsense with the Langstons... which made him idly wonder whether or not Miss Laskaris will be there. Although she was not family and was no longer in a relationship with his brother, she was often invited to their gatherings.



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✥ Yůміκθ Λмαŧεřαςů ✥

"Medical science has proven time and again that when the resources are provided, great progress in the treatment, cure, and prevention of disease can occur."

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Yumiko was rather happy picking up the papers by herself. She didn’t care much for people, nor did she particularly care for people who were unnecessarily nasty. Of course, as Damien left his seat to help her start picking up the fallen paperwork she grimaced. The young male was definitely not someone she chose to interact with often. Simple hello and goodbye when he would come in was all she managed to suffice. She had heard stories of his unpleasantness, but she had never experienced it directly. Of course anything she had heard from the nurses and other people she was skeptical of. Her father had always had the greatest respect for Damien as a pharmacist. He apparently was quite good at what he did. Scooping up some papers and straightening them out she was hoping that the male would keep to himself and merely pick up the papers. But when he opened his mouth she couldn’t help but feel anxious.

As it turned out there was good reason for this. He berated her at such a rapid pace, the girl simply was dumbfounded and couldn’t muster a response to him while he was on his tirade. She just knelt on the ground and stared up at him, mouth slightly open out of pure shock. Yumiko thought she was out of the thicket for a moment when he paused, but soon found his hand cupping her chin. Taken aback by his action, Yumiko nearly knocked over her drink as she tried to move backwards away from him. But she wasn’t fast enough and soon found herself staring up into his eyes. Body going rigid Yumiko felt her mind go numb, trying to quell the rising anxiety. A buzzing swarmed her head making it hard to hear what he was saying to her. Something about undivided attention, name-calling, and a*****e? Her vision blurred momentarily as he finally let go of her and she tried to recuperate from their rather close encounter. Grasping the counter for support the girl closed her eyes and felt the room spinning around her. Taking deep breaths, Yumiko could feel her face flushing, out of embarrassment, guilt, and anger. Of course the young male was right, she wasn’t ready to run a clinic by herself, she wasn’t ready for any of it. It was all forced upon her a year ago. What else was she to do? Let all the people who seek medical attention just die? She was unsure if it was her own lack of confidence or the venomous words that caused her chest to tighten and her eyes to water slightly.

“You’re right.” she said, surprisingly not a single stutter in the statement. Glancing up from the ground the brunette’s demeanor changed completely. Her voice had a cool and calculating sound to it and her eyes were analytically staring at Damien. She knew when she was bested, might as well admit to it. Switching off the emotional part of her brain, she was quickly able to assess the situation at hand and come up with an appropriate response. “A bar is no place for a person like me, in fact, I don’t even know why I bothered to come in here? Honestly what was I thinking?” Swiping the folders off the counter and placing them into a bag at her side she sighed. “ I suppose I don’t have a clue what I am doing, period. I never thought I’d have to run the clinic alone, I thought I’d have plenty of time to practice so when the time came I would be able to do it efficiently. However, life did not allow me such luxuries and as such here I am, sitting in a bar, having this conversation with you. Or rather, I suppose it is now more of a one-sided conversation.” Taking the glass with the Shirley temple in it she watched as some of the bubbles made their way to the top and disappeared. “Nevertheless, despite my obvious lack of grace and most social skills, I do run the clinic alone and with a great deal of efficiency.” Sipping on the drink, she could feel the alcohol tingle the back of her throat. The drink was sweet though, and she thought for a second she might even like it. Putting it back on the counter she shook her head. “However, Dr.Langston, I do appreciate your commentary and will take your comments into consideration when I look to better myself as a doctor. So thank you for your kind words.”

Taking the straw out of her drink, Yumiko took a large sip of the drink she had been drinking and shook her head a little. Goodness that took a lot out of her. She’d have to take a really long nap tonight in order to recoup for tomorrow. What even came over her? She would never had thought to respond in such a way to him of all people. Maybe it was the alcohol. The substance has been known to be called “liquid courage”. Sighing she glanced up at the others in the bar and bowed her head slightly. “Uh- s-s-sorry about that e-everyone. M-my m-m-mistake.” And the stutter was back. Well it was nice while it lasted. Taking another sip of the drink she let her head hit the counter with a light thud. She was so screwed.





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Prinzack's avatar

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                                              xx»xxʟ ᴇ ᴀ ʀxxᴡ ᴀ ʟ ᴋ ᴇ ʀxx| |xxxI'm at Sangria with Terran, Yumiko, Damien, and Lior, feeling amused
                                              _______________________________________________________________


                                                  xxxxxWhen shy little Yumiko thanked him for the drink, he nodded to her, appreciative to see such a hard-working young woman in his bar for a change. She was a sight for sore eyes, among the usual band of unintelligible miscreants. Upon sliding the glass of cognac to Damien, Lear's ears perked to the sudden sound of fists crashing against the back of his bar. He turned to glance into the dark room behind him, where the banging continued. Who in the world... and at this hour? Then again, it wasn't uncommon for drunks or random beggars to hang around outside this late at night. Looking for their next buzz or for someone to give a rare show of compassion. With a frown, he turned back, eyes flitting across the bar at his patrons. Seemed like no one else was paying attention to the horrendous knocking in the back, which was probably for the best. For now, his bar accommodated a pretty mild crew; the only real potential party animal would be Terran, and he was harmless enough so far. So without much of a second thought, Lear excused himself from the bar and disappeared into the back room to check on whoever was creating that ruckus.

                                                  Throwing the door open--and he was thankful that it still stood intact, even with the harsh banging--his eyes fell on sight. Though her name escaped him, he recognized the woman sitting on the trash can in the back of his bar. He stared as she smoked herself a little cigarette in silence, as if she hadn't disrupted the quiet air. He cleared his throat and crossed his arms over his chest. "I have a front door, you know. You don't have to sneak around." Whenever he did see this woman, she always wanted some kind of information or favor. To be honest, he nearly considered asking her to join his cause. But given her demeanor and carried-away manner of solving problems, he didn't. "If you need something, we can discuss it inside."

                                                  He left his offer standing and returned to the bar, giving her one more pleading stare, asking her not to cause too much trouble. Once he took his place behind the counter, he assessed the tense situation before him. At first glance, Damien looked to be a kind and thoughtful person, crouching down to help what seemed to be a frazzled Yumiko who had scattered papers all over the floor. But as Lear drew closer to the counter, he heard snippets of Damien's harsh lecture and caught Yumiko's distraught expression at an angle. Good old Damien, figured he wouldn't just pick up her papers without throwing something at her. While he felt a sliver of sympathy for the young woman, the scene was rather amusing. And the amusement doubled when a man burst into the room offering shots of vodka, unintentionally increasing the discomfort and tension of the situation.

                                                  "Ah, don't worry about him," Lear offered in response to her apology. "In all my days as a bartender, I've never seen him smile. Not even sarcastically." He then turned to his new patron and nodded. "Well you all heard the man, vodka anyone?"


                                                  (( ooc: I don't even know what I'm doing anymore. /shot ))

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    Chibi Angel-chan

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RosalineDark's avatar

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Juliet D. Valentine


XOXOXLocation:: Sangria
XOXOX With:: A bartender, guy with green eyes, some child(?), anti-social male, & random guy in the middle of the doorway
XOXOXOOC:: Need Edits??



XOXOXOXO══════════════════════════════════════════


                                                  » Sighing lightly as the computer mainframe for Section Two's power grid produced new codes, Juliet was quite unsatisfied with the time it took to complete; given the task of resetting the motherboard was a long process by itself, but also having to make sure it keeps all the original encryptions was a longer wait though she never imagined it would have taken from noon to evening. The government informed all of Section Two's citizens, at least the ones who listen, and warned them of a few hours without power because the resets that were needed; the resets wouldn't have been required if the people who set it up would have payed more attention their programming. What fool wouldn't check over their programming? Just about anybody who was some type of software technician or engineer knew to always look over their work multiple times before registering a finished product, and she was no exception. Over the years, the girl worked with all types of computers, getting codes and collecting data while also doing as instructed by whomever hires her, and saving tips from those who appreciate her quality of work; at the rate she was going, it was surprising that she hadn't developed carpal tunnel; yet, with a title to uphold, she did her best to make sure everything was like she wanted especially since she was a bit of a perfectionist. Only known through her work; just as she wanted because anybody could have her name but nobody would know her face because she'd always make sure that nobody could remember her; people would often give her requests, depending on if they ever found or even knew her, especially with the known factor that she is always silent and silence doesn't get much attention, not as if she cared much for attention anyway. Just a few more minutes and it would be finished then she'd be able to leave the building and go down to Section Three and probably see if the music store or library was still open, the only two places where she wouldn't be bothered with requests; however, something clicked in back of her mind, an unknown familiarity. Beep beep! Her pager went off as the computer sent a code to it, another way of telling her that her task was complete. Finally.

                                                  Juliet stretched her stiff limbs before scratching the back of her head, another day finished, she had some extra money on her person and it was still a bit early, plus an added bonus of the weather's current state: cold, just the way she liked. Walking out of the building, the girl was met with winds that would send anyone inside but she wasn't like them, she enjoyed the cold, rather be frozen to the bone than to sweat in the heat; slowly she made her way to the city's center, to the teleportation pad, trying to enjoy the feel of coolness against her skin along the way and being only a few blocks away her walk was short. What could I do? My files are at home and I couldn't risk trying to access them at a public location; music isn't exactly something I need immediately, so the shop can wait--- As she strolled down a sidewalk of Section Three, her thoughts were cut off short by the sight of her favorite library, closed. How perfect? The girl was knocked down a notch or two by this with clouded, blank eyes but appeared unfazed while continuing to walk on, trying to find something or somewhere else to occupy her time and it seemed as if today was her lucky day. The lit sign of Sangria seemed to welcome her, she passed by the bar before but never had an actual reason to go inside, until now, it's nothing more than a big 'why not? and it didn't seem like it would hurt to get a drink though she usually wasn't one for alcohol. Other opinions were pretty much cancelled and she felt she needed a little break from the world so how much damage could one drink do? Might as well test that theory and hope for the best and it seemed as if winds agreed because they blew into the bar's direction. With a small smirk across her lips, the girl walked to the establishment just hoping it wouldn't be too crowded as most bars are over the time period of a weekend.

                                                  A rather odd looking person stood in middle of the doorway though he didn't block Juliet's path, the bartender had content look while two people sat at the bar: a male with green eyes and from the look of it, a child(?) while another male sat far from the scene. Maybe the distant male was the only one sense or maybe he just doesn't want to be bothered. Either way it wasn't her problem and she wasn't going to try and mess with it. The atmosphere of the room was the only thing that caught her off guard, it was extremely unbalanced with different chemistries, and the tension was so thick that it could be sliced through by a knife; what a downer, a bar was suppose to have a light feeling to it right? Not one of awkwardness and anger. Working with computers so long helped her develop the skills to sense certain problems and feelings; yes, even technology has feelings. Under this kind of pressure she wanted to go undetected, like being buried alive, with no room because everything would be in her way, so she took a seat on the opposite side of the room from the distant male. She'd just wait for the bartender to notice her and hopefully, within the next few moments, the tension should go down.

                                                  All circumstances accounted for, things could have always been worse for tonight and Juliet was a bit at ease since they weren't and yet she felt like shrinking down to nothing but what use would that be? She'd look like coward, somebody who couldn't handle pressure, and if a rumor like that were to spread around then her requests would decrease significantly because people would think she wouldn't be confident enough to finish her tasks properly and then she'd be forced to find a new job or worse, be pushed down to lower class, the very class she was trying to help. Stop over thinking things. You can think a thousand things in a thousand seconds but this isn't one of them. Though she was stressed, her eyes were still clouded so nobody could see how she truly felt, a soft sigh escaped her lips as she rested her head on one of her knuckles, her lips moved but there was no audible sound, unless you listened closely, "A world full of kings and queens, but it was cold, dark as the night; we were the fire under moonlit skies. We weren't divided, we were the same and we were free, but we all wore chains. We couldn't see it, but we created a place between truth and overrated. . ." A chuckle under her breath, the song described reality and in a way, it was kind of amusing how much similarity there was but anybody else would disagree with her, that's how she felt about it; almost completely gone from her mind the girl pulled out a piece of a paper and a pen before writing: white russian, easy on the vodka please. She placed the paper on the table for the bartender if he noticed her and wanted to know what she wanted but she doubted anybody would notice her. Do you know the saying 'it's best to be seen, not heard'? Well, the girl rather not be seen nor heard, she's grown quite accustomed to it.

                                                  She continued her song from earlier at the same softness, "We had a plan to build a wall, a great divide that would never fall, to separate us from all the pain and keep our skeletons locked away. And brick by brick, we built it so thick that it blacked out the sky and all the sunlight and one by one, we all became numb; we were making the bullets to a broken gun. . ." Another quiet chuckle as she smiled, she wanted to live, wanted be the change. They can all be kings and queens if they can just learn to believe. It was a bit far fetched but it might possible, as long as the right people were in charge though it would be hard to find those who actually deserved such a role without letting it go to their heads. She started think, thinking of how life might have been for the original utopia instead of how it is in the corrupted she knows now, biting her tongue, she knew that things were better back then but who would be so corrupted to overthrow something close to perfect only to make it in their image: a jealous person? Somebody who needed more care than what they received? Somebody power hungry? She eventually gave up on her questioning and decided to leave it alone for another day.


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Prinzack's avatar

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                        x→ ˹˹ I'm in my personal cab with my driver wearing this feeling a hint of excitement ˺˺ ←


                              What will it be today? With a smooth hand, Lexi perused her wardrobe, touching one dress after another before resting on a potential winner. She tugged on the hanger with one hand and shoved the other dresses aside with the other, wincing at the screech of metal on metal as the hangers slid across the metal bar from which they hung. Upon her selected hanger dangled a mid-thigh length black dress with flowing sleeves. Taking the thick fabric in hand, she pulled it from her closet and pressed it against her torso, turning to admire herself in a nearby mirror.

                              "This will do nicely," she hummed with a smile.

                              Not too stuffy or too formal, yet elegant enough to entertain a stuffy and formal dinner party. The silky material slid over her olive skin with ease and hugged her curves. Oh how she loved clothing that was tailored specifically for her. It meant no unwanted loose fabric anywhere, no awkward corners that stuck out flamboyantly. Almost all of her wardrobe fit her perfectly, and the outfits that didn't were only loose because she chose for them to be so. When your life centered itself around shallow people who dressed to impress, the importance of your own appearance could not be overlooked, lest you become the victim of sneering and hushed whispers.

                              Some find this suffocating lifestyle to be burdensome or stressful. Such people are the ones who must struggle to climb the social ladder. For Lexi, however, everything was second nature. Though she was not born into a life of riches, she adjusted quickly to the high life when the opportunity arose, easily picking up the habit of looking down on others. She was a pro, and she loved it.

                              Taking a glance at the wall clock, she noted that it was nearly time for the dinner party to begin. Humming to herself, she gathered some purse essentials and picked out a few accessories from her jewelry box. Though there was much to choose from, she made her selection with haste, having already decided exactly how she wished to present herself since pulling the black dress from her closet.

                              Now that she was fully equipped to kill, metaphorically speaking, it was time to head out and meet the Langstons, a family that very much defined wealth and refinement. Ever since Lexi's first time meeting Eric and Patricia Langston, the CEO of Exonnica and his wife, she practically saw opportunity oozing out of their family. This was, of course, an opportunity she refused to miss. Thus, from pulling a few strings here and there, she entered their lives by offering her services as Communications Director. Rumors of Exonnica, one of Terra Volantis's leading drug producers, using Slums citizens as test subjects traveled through the sections some time ago. But with Lexi's wit and friendly public appeal, she squashed all doubt in the shady company and won the Langstons's favor.

                              As a result, she became a sort of family friend to them, and she was often invited to their private dinners and gatherings. It was at these dinners that she met part two of her opportunity in the family, Adrian. Poor sob never knew what hit him when she accidentally spilled her wine on his crisp white shirt. She figured that by winning him over, she'd have a chance at the famous inheritance their dying grandfather was soon to leave. However, a mistake on her part, she overlooked Adrian's brother, Damien, the true favorite of the old geezer. So when Aaron's death came around, surprise! No inheritance for Adrian, and no share for Lexi. What a blunder.

                              Despite her engagement to the young Langston, she broke it off as soon as she heard the news that Damien was to receive the inheritance. Sniveling and desperate, Adrian begged for her to stay, but she had greater goals than him. He had nothing going for him, a bad catch overall. He couldn't charm anyone with his looks--that was more of Damien's field.

                              Now Damien. That one was a real winner. Mystery, allure, brooding charm, and a huge lump of cash to his name. But he wasn't one to be easily won over by a flip of her hair and the wiggle of her hips. This much she knew, having attempted to capture his attention years ago. It was due to his lack of interest that persuaded her to settle for his brother instead, who was much more willing. What was life without a little challenge?

                              It was now or never. With Adrian tossed to the side, she was ready to cast her net again. Stepping into the coach that awaited her, Lexi smiled at her driver. "The Langston Estate, Carl. If you please."

                              "
                              Right away, Ma'am."


(( ooc: I may have gotten a tiny bit carried away with her history there. ))

Pearlholy's avatar

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                                                            LOCATION: La Sangria -> Home -> Langston Estate
                                                            COMPANY: Adrian
                                                            OOC: I said I was going to post so I did. However, it's not complete.

              DAMIEN LANGSTON
          _______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________


                  Stare.

                  Oh boy. As Damien walked back to his seat and sat down on the stool, the inexperienced female doctor gathered enough courage to retort. Done without a single stutter. How endearing. Had he successfully angered her? If the pharmacy technician had free time on his hand, he would want to make it his personal mission to provoke her ever so often. Why? Because she was all the more tolerable when indignant. As she went on and on, Langston folded his hands together on the table, elbow propped up. He only granted her half of his attention because it was all she truly deserved. The tanned man did not even bother to correct her; he was no doctor. Just an assistant working at a pharmacy. But whatever. Damien lifted his index at Lear, signalling the bartender to get him a second glass. If Dr. Amaterasu expected any reaction from him, she was going to be sorely disappointed. No praise or reply was given to her. Instead, behind his folded hands, the pharmacy technician smiled to the bartender. What was that? He never smiled? What poor memory the blonde man had. If his smiles were as rare as Walker claimed, Damien would have expected him to remember them. Did he smile out of spite? Maybe. He waited for the drink and slid another money bill. The glass never made contact with his hand or lips; the drink was left for Lear to take.

                  With the entrance of a female customer, Damien took his cue to leave. It was one thing to be fashionably late and another to go with the resolve of never going. The pharmacy technician was quickly resolving towards the latter. It would be bad to be absent at another banquet. Langston pulled out his dark blue cashmere scarf and rolled it around his neck before slipping his black peacoat on. After buttoning up coat, the King of Grouches grabbed his bag and adjusted the strap on his shoulder. He raised his arm to wave goodbye to the owner of the bar and exited La Sangria without a word.

                  ((INSERT PART WHERE HE GOES HOME AND PIMPS HIMSELF OUT AND STUFF))

                  The moody medical practitioner could have driven his old a** car there. If he tried to impress, he could have taken his motorcycle. If he was considerate, he’d take public transportation or the cab. However, Damien Langston was in no hurry to get there. Thus, he walked to the estate, taking his sweet a** time getting to the destination. The pharmacy technician dreaded the more place than he dreaded stupidity but he was dealing nonetheless family; the heir had too much respect for his deceased grandfather to do something to disrespect the old man. It just didn’t mean Damien had to be nice about it.

                  The doors of the estate opened to him. The valets and the guests looked at him and greeted him yet Damien Langston made no efforts of returning the favour. Courtesy had never been his forte, which is why he was still not romantically involved with anyone. Camaraderie was already difficult for the tanned man. Companionship was worst. Hands in his pockets, the suited man walked up to his brother (all while effortlessly ignoring the other members of his immediate and extended family)—whose eyes instantly lit up upon the sight of the Heir of the family. Damien greeted Adrian with same stiff and stern frown on his face but accepted the glass of champagne that was handed to him. “I heard Miss Laskaris was attending the banquet.” His statement accompanied with his stare caused his sibling’s shoulders to shrink. 'Why?' would have been a better way to express his discontentment . Shifting his stance, the man looked out to the large window. “Whatever,” the man grumbled, clearly displeased. He was already eager to leave. Out of respect for his deceased grandfather thought, he will have to endure at least another half an hour.



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✥ Yůміκθ Λмαŧεřαςů ✥

"Medical science has proven time and again that when the resources are provided, great progress in the treatment, cure, and prevention of disease can occur."

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It is relatively quiet… Yumiko thought, lifting her head slightly from the bar counter. Turning slightly she caught Damien smiling. Blinking a few times, to ensure that she was not hallucinating, she sighed. So he can move those muscles to form a smile. I thought they might be stuck as a permanent frown. The young woman averted her large brown eyes from the pharmacist, realizing that staring had gotten her into trouble in the first place. Glancing around the bar, she surveyed the rest of the crowd who was around. A young woman with snowy white locks had recently walked in and stationed herself at a table. It appeared as though this young woman was rather intent on not being noticed since she had sat so far away from everyone. She couldn’t blame her. They had caused quite a scene. Tilting her head, Yumiko could swear that the girl was talking, or singing? But she couldn’t be sure, after all her lips barely moved and Yumiko couldn’t make out what she was saying. Gah! She thought quickly averting her eyes to another location in the room I am always staring at people! I really have to stop that… She knew it was rude, she definitely knew that, her mother had mentioned that more than once. “Stop staring at people Yumiko” she would say to her, pulling her ear or her hair to avert her line of vision. But Yumiko couldn’t help it, she just wanted to know.

People interested her, there were so many different kinds, so many personalities, she wanted to study them all, get to know them. Working at the clinic for so long had allowed her the opportunity to do so, which interested her in the topic even more. People were such interesting animals, they acted so differently from other animals. They had the ability to rationalize, to feel intense emotions like fear, hate, love, kindness. Not that animals don’t have emotions. She was sure as sweet corn that animals felt pain, fear, love, et cetra. But it was the way humans went about it that interested her. Of course, being socially inept and awkward made furthering her knowledge of this topic very difficult. It wasn’t like she had any friends to speak of either. Yumiko was so busy running her clinic that she simply didn’t have time to go out with people her age. All of her acquaintances were either children, adults, or elderly people.

A rustling noise that originated from Damien’s leaving caused the young woman to snap out of her thoughts. Turning to watch the young man leave she tilted her head and sighed a little. How in the world did she escape that bullet? She thought for sure her indignant tirade had gotten her into more trouble with the moody pharmacist since he seemed to enjoy arguing with people, or at least degrading them. So she was a little surprised when he left without so much as a word to her. Oh well, she wouldn’t dwell on it that much. After all it was a good thing he hadn’t spoken to her again since she had reverted back to a bundle of nerves. Watching after him, Yumiko found herself staring at the other male in the doorway. In truth, she hadn’t really paid him any mind, despite his loud claim for dinks on the house. Cocking an eyebrow she wasn’t entirely sure how she felt about this one. The female in the corner seemed harmless enough, but this one….well Yumiko wasn’t sure. Maybe it was his loud introduction that Yumiko was now recalling, or maybe it was the way he was dressed. Either way, she felt a little skeptical of the character. And who even had the money to be spending like that? Surely he didn’t intend to buy everyone in the bar expensive drinks? He hadn’t even asked if any of them liked that stuff? Wasn’t that a waste?

Holding her stare on him for a moment she glanced back at Lear looking perplexed. Leaning over slightly she quietly asked, “I-I d-don’t w-want to sound stupid. But--Uhh…what is Vodka?” The girl had honestly no knowledge of alcohol, and she didn’t want to be rude and decline his offer, but at the same time, she was unsure of what that stuff contained. It could, for all she knows, be extremely strong and the last thing she wanted to do was get a hangover. The symptoms of that were quite unpleasant or so she had read.






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"If you wanna make enemies... try to change something."

Adam was sitting at Sangria bar it was the only bar he went to; mostly because it was the only one that served the whiskey he liked. Adam sat there a cigarette in his mouth and shot of whiskey in his hand; the shot glass was cracking due to his augmented arms. His coat covered most of his arms the only way you could tell his arms were augmented were his hands.His sun glass augments were on so no one could see his eyes.Adam took another shot, and then began going over his day.

Adam woke that morning as he always did in his upper class apartment. He showered put on his bullet proof vest on top of it was his sleeveless turtle neck then his ammo pouches, so on and so forth.He went to work, as security manager of new force industries he made sure everyone was doing their jobs, and there were no issues to speak of. It was a quiet day nothing much really occurred as usual.Adam finally went home to relax before he went out to the bar like he always did.He turned on the news just more spun bull s**t, but it was Atlus news network they were bought and paid for like everyone else.

Adam left his apartment and went down to Sangria his Zenith 10mm pistol in hand with a laser sight and armor piercing rounds. Adam always carried he trusted no one, and he knew sangria attracted all types.Adam just sat there quietly ; eyeballing the rest of the bar secretly figuring out who to watch for.


All the hate, all the violence, all the lies, all of it has a source, and they're tearing this world apart.
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Lior Ayers

Not the best Role Model


    Not the most lively bunch, as it turned out. The vast majority of the patrons in Sangria completely failed to acknowledge Lior or his drink offer. Naturally, this pissed him off – Lior was used to not only being acknowledged but ******** venerated. Still, he was also used to hanging out with drunken and drugged out scumbags, so he knew how to take it in-stride. Despite the gnawing disappointment in his gut, his face never indicated anything other than complete and utter confidence, and the wild flicker in his eyes screamed “danger.”

    Granted, not the same type of danger as GI Jane outside, or tall-dark-and-cybernetic in the corner (Lior was pretty sure he was packing – he looked exactly like the security goons his dad had hired to coddle him growing up, the same goons that Lior now did everything to avoid, piss off, or psychologically torture). No, the danger that Lior held was far more mental, the psychic anhedonia of modern, spoiled youth. Lior was the danger that would screw you and then never speak to you again, that would get you hopelessly addicted and then leave you high and dry. He was, in a sense, substance abuse embodied. Though he was also all polish – that danger was only evident in his eyes, in the coldness there, a wild and callous coldness.

    So when only two people (other than the bartender, whom Lior had decided was by far the coolest person in the room, and probably ought to be invited out to drink and maybe more later) acknowledged his offer, he did what he did best – glom onto those two people.

    Or, rather, one person, since the first acknowledgement was a refusal – Mr. Frown, as Lior had mentally dubbed him. Mr. Frown politely (yet coldly) refused the drink, offering it instead to Nurse Naïve at the bar. Oh well; his loss. Then again, Lior could just swear he recognized that guy from somewhere. He reeked of money, and for a moment Lior wondered if this was where all the trust fund babies went to slum it on the weekends. Then he remembered that the trust fund babies in Terra Voltanis never slummed it (that’s what made Lior unique), and so Lior chalked it up to coincidence (or, colloquially, “one of those faces”).

    So he was out. That left the nurse. Lior slid onto a barstool beside her as suavely as he could manage (less James Bond, more Jesse Pinkman, as it turns out) and waggled his eyebrow at her, threw her a wink and a dashing grin, and then proceeded to tackle her question.

    ”Well, babe,” internally, he cringed as soon as he said babe, but then just went with it, ”It’s kind of like water, but a little less tasty, and it gets you drunk. Perfect for the budding party girl in you.”

    A closer look at her face told Lior that this girl was quite possibly underage, or at the very least barely 21. The eyebrow waggle was mostly just for show, though honestly there were very few people Lior wouldn’t consider bedding, and Nurse Naïve and Brit Bartender were definitely contenders judging from the rest of the crowd in the bar. So, then, to business.

    ”The name’s Lior. Lior Ayers.” And then the afterthought: ”Yes, that Ayers. But try not to think about it. Pops and I aren’t on the best of terms.” Another wink, this time thrown towards the bartender, because why not.“And you are?” The last question was directed at pretty much anyone who would play along, at this point. That’s kind of how Lior did things.


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                                              xx»xxʟ ᴇ ᴀ ʀxxᴡ ᴀ ʟ ᴋ ᴇ ʀxx| |xxxI'm at Sangria with Yumiko, Lior, Juliet, and Adam, feeling curious
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                                                  As minute by minute passed in Sangria, Lear realized that the bar was beginning to look more like what he was used to: somewhat populated, but not enough to call the atmosphere bustling. Only difference was that this bunch of drinkers was not at all like his regular patrons. In fact, it seemed like most of them weren't even all that interested in drinking, maybe just one or two of them. The rest seemed to be contemplating, observing, or working. What a strange night it was.

                                                  Still, the strangest thing tonight was probably Damien's smile at the end there. Perhaps Lear's mind was exaggerating somewhat, but having been used to the consistent scowl on the man's face, it seemed as though Damien's facial muscles weren't even capable of forming the basic essence of a smile. How wrong he was. The man almost looked pleasant with the corners of his mouth turned up ever so slightly. But of course Lear imagined it wasn't very sincere or happy; Damien was most likely just trying to prove a point. The idea of him smiling like that out of bitter sarcasm nearly provoked an audible chuckle in Lear.

                                                  Shortly after Damien's departure, his presence was replaced by another quiet individual. This time a woman who looked to be in her early twenties, so silent and swift that he almost overlooked her when she took her seat at the far end of the bar. At first glance this woman with startling white, frizzy hair looked familiar. But then, with such pale features such as hers, he would have remembered her if they'd met before. Still, something told him that she was an important individual, one way or another. What specifically, he'd have to figure out.

                                                  The corner of his eye caught her slipping him a note, which then sat a few feet from where he stood as he entertained Yumiko and an excited newcomer, who'd settled himself beside the timid lady to engage her in conversation. When the man introduced himself as Lior Ayers, Lear's smile faltered for a moment before picking right back up to exuding a cheery facade. "Ayers" was not a favorite in his list of corrupt, money-loving government dogs. In fact, the company associated with the name was a huge pain in the a**, supplying all of those weapons and advanced machinery. Still, as Lior pointed out himself, Lior was not his father, and Lear could not assume that the young man was necessarily in the same line of work. He would have to reserve judgement for a later time.

                                                  Catching the man's wink in his direction, Lear raised a questioning brow, surprised at the gesture. Lior seemed more of the womanizing type, but given his open attitude so far, he was too quick to judge. "Lear the bartender, at your service," he answered. "A pleasure to meet you." Whether or not he was associated with government, he at least promised to be entertaining.

                                                  Lear glanced back at the woman in the corner and decided it was time to figure her out. Satisfied with leaving Yumiko to Lior, Lear shot them a pleasant smile before attending to the white-haired woman in the corner, nodding at Adam on the way to make sure he still had enough to drink.

                                                  Still holding his smile, he approached her and took the note. "White Russian, easy on the vodka please," he repeated softly. With a nod, he turned to fix her drink and again felt a sense of recognition upon seeing her handwriting. Making quick work of the drink, he soon slid it across the counter to her before settling an elbow on the smooth surface to speak. "Hope you don't mind me asking, but have we met before?"


                                                  (( ooc: a little longer than expected; hopefully i didn't forget someone ))

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    RosalineDark

    Chibi Angel-chan

    MrFallenXIIII

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Bashful Genius

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✥ Yůміκθ Λмαŧεřαςů ✥

"Medical science has proven time and again that when the resources are provided, great progress in the treatment, cure, and prevention of disease can occur."

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As Yumiko glanced back toward Lior for a moment, she noticed that he was sauntering over toward the bar, in her direction. Looking to her left and right, she was hoping he was just coming closer to partake in some sort of drinking activity, and that he was not about to engage in conversation with her. After all she had asked Lear about the Vodka, not the other young man. As the distance between the two of them grew shorter, Yumiko stole a glance back to see if Lear was still there. Unfortunately for her sanity, he had quietly slipped away to go talk to the silent snowy haired woman in the corner. Feeling the hair on the back of her neck stand on end, it took Yumiko a moment to realize that she had been abandoned to deal with this situation on her own. It wasn’t bad enough that Damien had totally humiliated her, degraded her, and then left, now she was going to have to figure out what this other guy wanted. Dropping her head a little she sighed heavily her glasses sliding down the bridge of her nose. Well she couldn’t blame the kind bartender for leaving her, he did still have a business to run and there were other customers. Besides, it wasn’t like they were friends, or even close acquaintances, so of course she couldn’t count on him to help her out. Lifting her head slightly, Yumiko nearly had a heart attack as one of her worst nightmares came true. A person, no less the male, had sidled up next to her at the bar. Though she was not entirely surprised that he had appeared next to her, the young doctor still nearly jumped out of her skin, sending her glasses askew on her face a little. To make matters worse, the young man decided to wink at her. “W-w-w” She tried to speak, but found her tongue tied in a sailors knot. What was that for?! her mind screamed What kind of behavior is this?!

As her breathing rate increased Yumiko found it impossible to move, resorting to her defense mechanism of sitting perfectly still, as silly as she looked. Face reddened sufficiently, she could honestly say that in all of her life this experience had never happened. After all why would anyone bother to try to start a normal conversation with Yumiko, unless they were a patient? Most people, even her family, just left her to her own devices, but this young man obviously felt the need to talk to someone. Recalling who was in the bar now, she realized that aside from Lear, who was busy with the snowy haired woman, she was the only option left. Unless of course he was into talking to scary guys who walk in, sit down, and eye everyone as if they were an enemy on the battlefield. Great just what we needed… she thought sarcastically.

Their interaction happened to be going swimmingly, or at least as “swimmingly” as Yumiko could allow it to go. Remaining motionless, her glasses still askew, she was hoping that the dark haired male would give up and leave her without talking. Really who wanted to talk to someone so awkward anyway? But alas, her wishes were not granted. B-b-babe? The word took a moment settle into Yumiko’s brain. It wasn’t that she didn’t know what it meant, she had of course heard drunk people slur it to their girlfriends or ex-girlfriends in the streets late at night as she walked back to her house. It was just that she herself had never been bestowed that label. Eyes widening, jaw dropping, Yumiko could feel her entire face grow a cherry red. As she jerked herself back in a spastic motion, she nearly fell off the stool she was sitting at. “W-W-who!?” she gasped as she tried to fend off the paralysis that gripped her lungs. But her question was soon answered. WHAT?! She wanted to scream at the top of her lungs. That was the prestigious Ayers heir? This young, hooligan, who obviously had no tact in approaching women OR men? Of course she knew about the Ayers, she had looked into all the legal information she could obtain on the large families and corporation that had wealth. Since her father had obviously been taken by someone who had military power the Ayers family was her first guess. They were a big military force, probably had a lot of wounded soldiers who needed attention, why wouldn’t they want to pick up one of the best doctors in town for their own use? She didn’t have much proof of anything, not even a hint of a clue if they were the people. The family was extremely prestigious and had a lot of their information probably on lock down, she could only scrap up some news articles on them. The father was incredibly powerful, handsome (or so she had read), and wealthy. But she just couldn’t imagine what happened to this guy? After all, he was perusing a middle class bar, and schmoozing a middle class doctor and bartender.

After the initial shocked had ended, Yumiko managed to collect herself a little bit. Her face was still a bit flushed, but she had straightened her glasses and was staring directly at the space next to Lior. Staring at him would have gotten her into trouble or rendered her unable to speak, which she didn’t want him to think was her being flattered by his comment. As a professional she did not appreciate his comments. But since he was the son of one of the most prestigious persons in all of Terra Volantis she obviously couldn’t just ignore him or treat him badly. “L-Listen..umm…L-Lior was it? I-I a-a-appreciate the o-offer bu-but I am unable t-to take you up o-on it.” Shifting her glance over to his arm she stared at that for a moment. “I-I-I w-would a-also appreciate i-if you w-would r-refrain f-from ca-calling me…” Pausing for a moment to compose herself, the red color on her face began to spread to her ears. “B-…B-…Babe.” Immediately turning her head the other way like a defiant child she huffed a little, glad to have spit the word out of her mouth. “I don’t very much like being called that…” She mumbled quietly to herself almost in thought. Turning her glance back over to him she took a deep breath. “B-but i-if you m-must c-call me s-something please, c-c-call me Doctor Amaterasu…” Letting her eyes travel to his face, she caught his captivating blue eyes, though they were concentrated on winking at Lear. Staring at them for a moment she thought it was quite interesting to see someone with such clear blue eyes, she had never really encountered it before. Brown, hazel, green occasionally, but blue. For some reason she found herself transfixed on this idea. It was a good combination, light eyes and dark hair, she had noted it on a few members that come into the clinic occasionally. She wondered why that genetic pairing was so slim in the community. It was not dominant of course, but could it be that back in the day having such light eyes made it easier to get caught by predators? Snapping out of her thoughts, the young brunette found herself still staring at Lior. W-what?! Oh no! Not again!! Damn it Yumiko you have to stop doing that! Cursing herself she hurriedly glanced away hoping he hadn’t realized that she had been staring at him for a few minutes. “O-Or you c-could c-ca-call me Yumiko…I-I suppose.”







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(ooc: sorry it is so long! Got carried away n_n" )
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                        x→ ˹˹ I'm at the Langston Estate with Adrian and Damien wearing this feeling a hint of success ˺˺ ←


                              Within a few minutes of rolling into the Langston Estate through its gaudy front gates, Lexi began to feel more at home. She watched through the window as the Estate's lush green garden floated by, leading them up along the gravel path to the luxurious mansion itself. She could see through the windshield, past the front seats, that the brightly lit mansion was bustling with activity, a familiar and soothing sight after all of her visits with the Langston family.

                              As her driver pulled up to the front of the mansion, a few heads turned and watched as Lexi emerged from the sleek black vehicle. Her eyes met a few disapproving stares from assorted people who were not of the immediate family, from people who didn't owe the future of their business to her. Flipping her hair back, she sent each of them an uninterested half smile and strolled through the front doors, which were opened as soon as the doormen saw her approaching. Let them stare, she thought, exuding more confidence with each step. It didn't bother her one bit that they sneered at her for dropping Adrian as soon as it was known that he wouldn't receive the inheritance. She knew that she wasn't subtle in her motives. As long as the main family itself was accepting of her, then she was content, and she wouldn't think twice about securing another opportunity with the right heir.

                              Speak of the devil. Upon entering the main hall of the mansion, her eyes instantly fell on the pair of wealthy young brothers who were engaged in what looked like a dull conversation.

                              "My, my, who do we have here?" She approached the pair and placed a gentle hand on Adrian's slumped shoulder. "Adrian, darling, it's been some time." Her sultry eyes shifted their focus from Adrian to Damien. "And Damien, good to see you--"

                              Before Lexi could finish her sentence, an incoming drink server lost his balance and tripped over his feet, running tray first into her side. As the glasses of champagne spilled over her dress and crashed into the floor, Lexi was knocked unceremoniously into Damien, and she instinctively grabbed ahold of his shoulders in an attempt to steady herself. While her first instinct was to turn and glare and scream at the server, who was now apologizing profusely for his clumsy mistake, she quickly realized that this accident would work perfectly in her favor.

                              "My goodness," she breathed, quickly pulling away her hands. Grabbing the cloth offered by the sheepish server, she dabbed at her dress, attempting to soak up some of the spilled alcohol. "Thank you, dear," she said to the server, smiling sweetly, "And don't you worry, accidents happen." She then turned towards Damien and offered an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry for grabbing onto you like that, Damien."


(( ooc: hopefully i used all of the right names this time. xD ))

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