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AnqeIicDemise Vice Captain
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 Posted: Mon Sep 18, 2006 10:06 pm
The place
In a quaint little nondescript town in a nondescript place is a quaint little Bar that goes by the name "The Sands of Time". One could surely presume that its founder was one with a strange sense of humor, as the place is rather decrepid looking from the outside, and purposely made so; this is obvious by glancing at the surroundings of the estate: the shruberry is excellent, the cobblestone street well cared for... the rest of the town in tip-top shape.
The logo of 'ye olde' watering hole is faded, mispelled and even branded with the cliche', crude drawing of two inverted triangles, one filled with what looks like sand and the other, half empty. The windows are barricaded, the planks nailed askew on purpose as to filter in the light and the doors hang on by their hinges.
Upon entering the strange building the atmosphere is quite different. A boistrous crowd cheer the newcoming patron; laughter, singing, the ocasional guffaw of an irked gambler.. all these sounds are filtered through the sounds glasses clinking, drinks being poured and women giggling. The bar itself is broad, almost as long to line the longest wall of the building and cared for by two happy-looking wenches generous on the eye as they are on their drinks.
Amid the blue-grey haze of tobacco and dark sea every now and then flooded by candle light, one was sure to find a good time within "The Sands"... wether this be by getting drunk off one's derrier or picking a barfight. "The Sands", 'twas ye old watering hole for all types of folk, that was tried and true.
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Posted: Mon Sep 18, 2006 10:18 pm
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AnqeIicDemise Vice Captain
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AnqeIicDemise Vice Captain
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Posted: Mon Sep 18, 2006 10:20 pm
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Posted: Mon Sep 18, 2006 10:43 pm
Continuity. Sameness. That was all such little misshapen jewels of lower-society centers of short-term fixes for long-term problems had to offer. It was all the same, place after place-- different faces, same people. It was a nice bit of comfort that soothed the wondering soul and offered a bit of 'home' to make existence a bit easier.
It didn't matter how different the buildings looked, or what their name or what type of town it was, Carole Anne always felt as if it were the same hangout of old times whenever she wondered into the next one. Sober or stranded in a drunken stupor, faces superimposed faces and she could almost expect an old friend, perhaps two, to slip on out of the shadows to whisper greetings of surprise. Hell, it wouldn't have been the first time it had happened-- people like her frequented these clone centers and it was no surprise if a friend ran into another after years of absence.
But it was hard to tell now, with a whole different planet, world.. dimention behind her. What were the odds that Carrie would run into a face of the past? Wasn't that what she had in mind when she left that damnable place anyway? A clean page for a fresh chapter and a new beginning... wasn't that the idea behind 'The Big Move'?
Oh, how foolishly naive that had been. Even in this place she was still the same old Ramizzine, hunter of souls, controler of pests. Foes were a bigger pain in the a** as they were not restricted to the age-old dilema of humans versus lycans versus vampires versus the ocassional demon. No, this place had other creatures that were more difficult to destroy but it was still the same. The only difference was the lack of friends-- of kin so close that had become a family.
"Another whiskey, vodka tornado." She mumbled, her small fingertips waving about the young watress's face in a slightly dismissive manner. The girl offered a soft smile, the patron smirked only to shift in a clatter of metal, leather and denim. A small, rectangular pack was pulled from the inside left pocket of that worn, old, delapitated jacket. It was soon flipped upon that leather-clad palm, slapped, opened and a black stick pulled out. With a soft sigh, those lips parted, their plump countenance enclosing the filter of the odd-colored stick as, once again, those hands went about their business. For a brief moment her features were illuminated by an orange flame, then the soft red ember of the object that she puffed to life and promptly inhaled.
Well, maybe, not all things were the same.
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AnqeIicDemise Vice Captain
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Posted: Mon Sep 18, 2006 11:06 pm
Let's see. What can be said about this scene. Typical bar patrons, lounge lizards if you will. Take the drunkard slumped over his pint at the end of the bar. He'll be here again tomorrow, and tomorrow..for a week of tomorrows. Drowning out whatever sorrows he thinks he has.
You're got your required tired servers. Tired of their lives, tired of the same faces night after night. Slurping down their drinks as if their livers weren't disinegrating fast enough.
How did we find ourselves in this establishment? To be quite literal she walked up to the door, pushed open said door and entered. But what events led up to this? Why bother with society and it's mindless masses again? Easy answer to that one. Lonliness. She wasn't keeping the best company in herself as of late, and it was either get out there and attempt a re-entry in society or let her tattered and torn psyche disenegrate over the next few decades, if it would even take that long.
The blue/grey smokey haze obscured her vision just slightly, enough to blur the features of the furthest patron. Things didn't look too promising, but the night was still young and she was still oh so jaded. Perhaps a drink..or three would help bring a much needed attitude adjustment.
Rustle of fabric as she slid onto the stool, elbows propped up as she planted her chin against her palm. Pinkie tapped against her cheek as she nodded towards the tender, a quick jerk her head demanding her attention. "Vodka. Double... hell. Just bring me the bottle."
Seems old habits died hard..and this was one she didn't have any desire of leaving behind.
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Posted: Mon Sep 18, 2006 11:26 pm
The man to her left began to hack, the sound ephemeral and ladden with disease. Annoyed, the smoking youth rose to her fee, fingertips of one hand grasping the dark-colored stick and the other five coiling about the short tumbler filled with throat-singing liquids. Pale blue orbs shifted and gave the old man a cold glare as her lips parted, pink tongue applying a thin coat of saliva upon their plump flesh in an effort to coax the honey and clover taste that lingered.
Clink. Clink. Clink. With each stride came the tell tale jingle of metal against metal. Things had not changed. Well, as much as wardrobe came to play in the Ramazzine's form. Her locks, black as always had been cropped short, layered unevenly and uncoiffed as always. Those strands fell forth to cup her vision in darkness and half obscure those oval features.
"I don't know why I haven't learned my lesson by now," was the mumbled complaint, her gaze casually falling to the right. "You would thin...."
For a moment those azures simply lingered, studying, unblinking. They watched as the bartender shifted in her dance and turned, pouring a double vodka before the person who had ordered it. "Then again, perhaps this is a lesson I will grow to view with fondness. Sera, my dear, what the hell brings you around here so far from home?"
Could it possibly be that the two women had run off into the same damnable place to start over? Without hesitating, Carrie canted her head to the left, carefully inhaling a puff of clove before directing an order to the tender. "Vodka, Whiskey -- bottle of each."
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AnqeIicDemise Vice Captain
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Posted: Mon Sep 18, 2006 11:46 pm
Skeletal digits, pale and unadorned saved a single silver band that encircled her thumb dropped from her jaw to wrap around the glass that had been so unceremoniously pushed infront of her. Just as she was about to raise the glass in toast of well...nothing. She had nothing to toast save the hopes of perhaps forgetting herself for one night. Not even having the chance to swirl the clear liquid about before she heard her name. Wait..impossible. What were the chances that she would be recognized..nevertheless known in such an..establishment.
She blinked once, the muscles in her neck tensed before she turned her head to the left, trademark quirk of her eyebrow seen as she took in the person whom had spoken her name. Ah. Yes. How..fortunate and improbable that the two should meet again..time and place not withstanding. Hazarding a faint, but genuine smile she nodded to the stool beside her before raising her glass and swallowing the contents in a single gulp. Might as well swallow her courage while she could.
"Home? Such a thing is non-existant to me at this point. I suppose that tonight could be considered my re-introduction to civilization, if one would want to label this as such. To say that I'm surprised to see you..or that you would even recognize or remember me would be a gross understatement. " Furrow of her brow as she waved a slender hand off to her side, gesturing in general to their surroundings. "And what would bring you to such a place so far from what we've known?"
Hmm. Looks like her adventure was turning out to be a little more engaging than she'd imagined.
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Posted: Tue Sep 19, 2006 12:47 pm
"Some people close and dear are just as difficult to forget as the biggest enemy in a person's life. Even if they were shadows of themselves they are easy to recognize." Truth be known, Sera was more than an acquaintance to Carole-Anne. The once-elegant and powerful creature who sat at her side was more than a friend to the human; Sera was someone Carrie had looked up to growing up and once their friendship had been established, she became more like a sister. In fact, they were sisters for more than their association to the Sisterhood--Carrie had felt deep loyalty to the girls and would have fought teeth and nail for their safety but only a handful were worthy enough of her own life. Sera, Ilayra, Cylera... these were the women whom the young assassin considered family.
'Home.' The word made a slight smirk to play upon those raspberry hued tiers with a twinge of bitterness and the question that proceeded made the bile rise from deep within her throat. As was her nature-- their training-- Carole-Anne feigned physical indeference and simply exhaled the puft of blue-gray haze she'd been witholding. "There's nothing left for me there, only ruins of what once was. Memories of what will never be again."
As the only mortal within the group of friends, Carrie had long since believed that she would have been the one sent off into the realms of the unliving whilst the rest remained behind. It was that very mortality that she had once latched on to even when the opportunity arose to climb the ladder of evolution, that had been her security blanket to pain. It had been selfish of her to choose that path as it would be her friends that would mourn her death, not the other way around. Her salvation.
Now it was her curse.
When an immortal dies, the personal universe of the mortal being flips over, turning everything upside down. Why, and how were questions often asked but never answered. Even now, years after the incident, Carrie was still pertrubed by the chain of events that changed everything.
Hell, even the children were gone, Devon being the only surviver other than herself. The two relied on each other now more than ever to keep their sanities, their lives going. But it was difficult.
When an immortal dies, their spirit does not go on to the world of the dead; they are often reincarnated, their memories washed and scrubbed free of the past. If that does not occur, their life source is spread through out the planet, if not the universe... their presence still felt, their image unseen. At times, Carrie could still hear Cylera's voice in the wind and Ilayra's eyes in the leaves still wet with fresh rainfall. And in the full moon, Devon wondered off in search of his best friend whilst Carrie watched from her bedroom window, heart and tears lumped together in her throat.
"I guess it'd be more accurate to say that adventures unexplored called me over." Pale, azure-toned eyes peered from the blanket of ebon toward the other woman's countenance. The statement was both a lie and the truth as it was the need to move on that made the human leave 'home'. "But I'll be honest.... To have bumped into you in such a fashion makes it worthwhile."
Of course it was. Sera's face was one she had given up in seeing ever again. And as much as the woman's figure conjured memories so painful that they threatened to destroy the nonchallant facade of the assasin, it was still a blessing. It gave Carrie a sense of belonging, perhaps a long-forgotten taste of comfot that the youth had beeen craving since....
"Well, I'll drink to your re-introduction to civilization if you don't mind." Always like Carole to find a reason to booze.
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AnqeIicDemise Vice Captain
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Posted: Wed Sep 20, 2006 11:49 am
A slight nod as she let her gaze travel down Carrie's form.. physically she hadn't changed so drastically that she was unrecognizable to the trained eye, but there was a tension in her form.. a guard that had been put in place that had not been in existance before. The same could be said for Sera herself. Oh, she still held the same arrogant, almost narcissistc countenance as she had before, but if one looked closely enough you could see the shadows that swirled behind those aquamarines, the tension she held between her shoulders and the light line pale lips formed as she swirled her drink once more. No, these years had not been kind to her seeing as her isolation was self-inflicted. And for what reason? The answer to that and many other questions still unearthed.
Friends, lovers, aquantiences.. they were always so difficult to hold onto . It's not that Sera didn't want to be close to anyone, she was just too damn'd self destructive for her own good. Problem being she knew it..and so did everyone else. She was as lose/lose situation, a game that players could not say no to.
She blinked, pulling herself out of her own inner monolouge with a slight shake of her head and a ghost of a smile. " I must say that yours is the first familiar face I've come across in years. " A half-hazard wave of her hand towards the other patrons was given before sweeping a stray strand of silvered blonde behind her ear. Oh..appearances with Sera hadn't changed much at all .There really was no point, was there. " Do you think that they know..that they understand that all of this is fleeting? This..life... existence that they carry out day in and day out..that when it's all said and done, the likelyhood that they'll be remembered is scant? Do they wonder at night..in their drunken stupor if they made any sort of impact in anyones life.. did that passing glance to the vendor on the street mean anything to him or will their lives have been for naught? " A self-depreciating laugh was heard before she raised her glass to her lips. " Here's to my re-introduction to society. Because..after all. With out me.. life would just be one big bore. " Tipping the glass back, a few deft swallows and the cold, firey liquid had burned a path straight to her stomach. We'll see if the recluse can reclaim a sliver of the person she used to be.
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Posted: Wed Sep 20, 2006 1:41 pm
"As much as I love my brother," Stated the assasin moments before tilting her head back and allowing unbarred access for the liquid fire concoction encased in glass to kiss her entrails. The burn felt satisfying, dull and slow spreading, gently tapering off into nothingness. The mournful ache was like that now, strong, bitter, capable of bringing tears to one's eyes when least expected but once the taste was aquired, it was nothing. "I get sick of seeing him day in and out. He's in his mid teens now.. won't ever shut the hell up."
They all had their ways of mourning. That was all.
"People have the habit of living with their blinders on and with a very self-obsessed view on life. Truth of the matter is, that smile may mean the world to someone. As insignificant a small gesture may seem to one, it may be rather important to another." As she spoke, her hands moved with the fluid grace of old times, half-encased digits coiling about the slender necks of the bottles in a firm grasp. Another hour of this speed and she might be halfway to a drunken stupor of her own.
But that had always been Carole Anne, though. She was a woman of action, of need and desire. Drunk, or sober she had to be surrounded by people, always moving, always busy... always too preocupied with other tasks at hand as to ignore the more obvious, pertinent problems. "You're right, though. Life without the Grand Seraphim is always dull. " Seraphim. Wasn't that Illie's nickname for the woman? Or was it Alex? Oh, who was she kidding, at this point it wasn't like it mattered anymore.
"Where have you been hiding all these years? Its not a large house with a thousand cats, is it? I'm pretty damn sure that was to be my retirement vocation.. "
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AnqeIicDemise Vice Captain
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Posted: Thu Sep 21, 2006 12:03 am
She laughed, well, we'll call it a chuckle. Soft, almost unheard in the cacophony of sound that surrounded the pair. She poured herself another drink, eyeballing it for a moment before raising her glass once more and swallowing the contents down. Second round always better than the first.
"The Grand Seraphim. I feel as if I should have a tiara..or alteast a scepter and perhaps a cape? Maybe a trumpet player announcing my arrival, banners waving in my wake. " She shook her head, amusing herself with thoughts of grandeur. "Or wings. Perhaps wings would be more fitting. I could float down with a harp and a halo." Aquamarines widened at the thought of her angelic contenance as she laughed. An actual, genuine, sincere laugh. Fingers pressed to her lips as she attempted to contain her mirth at such a blasphemous though. "Oh! Can you imagine that?? Me. Wings. A halo and a harp?? If I wasn't destined for Hell before, I think I just sealed the deal right there!"
As for where she's been these past years? How shall she explain that. There's no good way to say..No. I've not been in a house with a thousand cats to keep me company. How about dilapidated building hidden away from prying eyes with only a copse of trees to keep me company aside from my thoughts and memories. Memories of times, places and people that no longer exist. That she was immersed in an almost catatonic state for the majority of her seclusion. That vodka kicked in yet?
"No. No cats..no castles or high towers to hide me away from prying eyes. Just myself..and my thoughts. I guess I finally grew tired of the company I was keeping..hence my wandering here."
Well. That's one way of putting it. Good job. Keep up that facade a little bit longer, will you? Won't do any good to show how broken you've become this early on in the game. After all, there's so much more alcohol to consume before you can blame it on your inebriated state of mind.
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