xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxan original composmentis production
GET STRAIGHT, WAIT HERE WHILE I TRY TO FIND THE EXIT SIGN STOP ASKING STRANGERS, NO ONE WANTS WHAT WE WANT
"Overflow," is what the city officially called them. "A natural result of the socioeconomic growth," is another one. "Wasted space," is what they meant, "dead weight on the city," was what no one would say out loud. But now everyone's starting to take notice. They don't exactly have a choice.
No one is exactly sure how Les Gens came to be. No one's entirely sure that it even exists. Its members abandon their old lives when they join -- they find new names, new homes. They leave no paper trail, and they never endanger the organization.
Les Gens is huge and getting bigger, with branches in every sector of the city. Lately, it's been digging its roots into the corrupted political hierarchy. They have their thumbs squarely atop the highest authorities, but there are still those that would fight them.
So, how does it all work? Newcomers to Les Gens are typically teenagers or young adults -- but typically does not mean always. Newcomers are brought in by existing members, and practice as understudies for at least a year. During this time, they are allowed very limited access to the organization's information. They never find out more than they need to know about any of its members or drop locations.
Upon initiation, newcomers receive the name they will be known by for their time with the organization and a location that will serve as their "drop box" where they will receive notices from the highest authority of the organization, and will drop off twenty percent of their total earnings, which serve to feed the bribes that keep the organization off of the radar.
These people are unstoppable. The organization is huge, with loyalty almost akin to cult worship. It is a shadow, made up of people you pass every day without a thought. The people that bump into you and then, ten minutes later, you can't find your wallet. In a city this size, you're never safe. And they're never alone.
We are Les Gens, redefining "organized crime".
KEEP ONE EYE ON THE DOOR, KEEP ONE EYE ON THE BAG NEVER EXPECT TO BE SURE
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Posted: Tue Jul 29, 2014 1:12 pm
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THE RULES AND REGULATIONS No need to wait for acceptance. Just post your profile and start!
I don't want to have to administrate this rp. But if you need anything, you're welcome to ask.
This is a low stress rp. Post as much as you can, but don't keep everyone waiting, if you can.
When the sun rose, it did so with gusto. In a room dimmed by dusty, drawn curtains, Kit shielded her eyes from the slit of sunlight that fought its way through, squinting. She was far from surprised by her unusual surroundings – most of her adult life had been precariously spent between hotels and, well, less favorable haunts. Anywhere that didn’t ask too many questions. Suddenly uncomfortable under sheets that felt almost stiff to the touch, Kit peeled them back and reveled in the chill of the early afternoon air. She was suddenly aware of hunger and a headache that lurched in the back of her head, pressing forward. Ugh.
But she wouldn’t let it get her down. Dragging herself out of bed was the hard part, but she found her vigor and treated herself to a long shower, a rare treat. Even smelling of cheap, motel shampoo and wringing the excess water from her heavy tresses, she felt better. The headache had relieved itself, at least for the time being. But there was still the question of food.
Kit changed into a spare set of clothes from her backpack, and helped herself to the contents of the wallet she found in the pair of discarded jeans on the floor. All without waking last night’s bedmate – what had he said his name was? Jarred? Or was it Jason? It didn’t much matter. Gathering her things, she slipped out the door and put a little distance between herself and the motel, just in case. In a quick, practiced motion she tied her damp curls up in a loose bun.
The organization ran deep in her veins. She apprenticed at twelve and embraced the life with the same enthusiasm that she approached everything. But Les Gens had been good to her – the organization gifted her with the skills to survive, even that young, and, even now, served to protect her from the intrusive nature the city had taken on. It had wiped her off the grid when she was a child, and helped her keep her anonymous status. Far as she was concerned, she owed Les Gens everything.
One of her favorite haunts was a greasy diner located between a dingy little record store, and a place that advertised as a photography studio, though most of the locals were dubious. The place was bustling, as always, and carried the heavy scent of syrup and late breakfast. Kit’s hunger was bordering mood-changing levels, and was not helped by the new environments. One of the waitresses glanced up from the register and smiled. ”Alice! Hey, haven’t seen you in a while.” She seemed genuinely pleased to see the girl who beamed back, but greeted her quickly and found a seat near a window to impatiently await service.
xxxselling my soul would be a lot easier if I could just find it.._____
"I was hopin' we could do a _______little business.."
Alison slowly came to her senses. First taste; cottonmouth with the aftertaste of stale beer and chalk. Then touch; the scratch of cheap sheets against her bare skin, beams of sunlight warming her exposed back. Hearing; the whir of a ceiling fan on low, the bustle of morning traffic through the window. Smell; the lingering aroma of sweat, sex and cigarettes. She had yet to open her eyes and use the last of her senses, trying to figure out from memory where she had ended up after the club last night.
There was a rustle of sheets and then Alison was overcome with a wave of body heat as someone pressed up against her side. With weary eyes she turned her gaze to see an equally nude female form beside her. She rubbed at her eyes lazily and sniffed. The woman shifted again, hands pawing towards Alison, causing the brunette to grimace and scoot away. She sat up, head spinning and took a moment to ground herself, before she began to search for her clothes. She found her blouse and buttoned it up hastily, glancing towards a pile of clothes when they began to buzz quietly. She swallowed against the cotton mouth and grabbed the jeans, plucking her cellphone from the pocket and answering as she slipped from the bedroom, "Hello?" Then clearing her throat as she fumbled into her pants.
"Tick-Tock, arrive at the drop-box in thirty minutes."
The brunette pulled the phone away from her ear, checking the caller ID, which of course was from a blocked number. She sighed, "Right-o, Boss-Man." And hung up. She checked another pocket, making sure she still had her wallet on her before scouring the living room area for her shoes. A half an hour gave her just enough to to grab a coffee from somewhere and then make it to the drop-box across town. Actually. First she needed to check where she was exactly, she could scarcely remember the address her bed-mate had given the cabbie last night. She ducked into the bathroom to check how much makeup had smudged under her eyes and quickly fixed it before poking around for an extra tooth brush to freshen up with.
Alison was out the door quicker than she would have hoped, and while she had freshened up by brushing her teeth and washing her face, she unfortunately hadn't been able to locate her undergarments.. But at least she found her shoes before slipping out undetected. Dealing with the female who's name she had already forgotten would have eaten up too much time. Luckily enough once outside she knew exactly where she was, which was actually not too far from her own apartment. But she disregarded swinging by, heading towards the nearby diner.
It was rather dingy but always quite busy and Alison enjoyed going there to grab a quick bite. But today was only a pit-stop for coffee! No time to dilly dally. When she entered the diner she made a bee-line right for the counter, bracing herself against it and smiling at the waitress back there. She bat her eyelashes, "Hey sweetheart, could I get a cup of coffee and a croissant to go?" and winked as the waitress giggled and turned to put in the order. Alison chuckled to herself and turned around, leaning her lower back against the counter and letting her eyes roam while she waited.
soo is this still a thing y'all are interested in or..?
X x __ compos M E N T i S
garden of wisteria
Posted: Fri Oct 17, 2014 6:59 am
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WATCH OUT, THIS KITTEN HAS CLAWS
The waitress, with a big smile, set a huge cup of coffee in front of the girl, topped with an almost obnoxious amount of whipped cream and little flakes of cinnamon. Kit beamed up at her, her gratefulness evident in her grin, "you're too good to me." The waitress, though an absolute sweetheart, hustled off before Kit could make her other request. After all, she didn’t want to waste any time once her food got there, but she needed syrup.
Scouting, Kit sipped at her coffee and turned her head to glance over the other tables. To no avail. Hmmph. But there was a familiar face at the counter – Tick-Tock. With a little more subtlety, Kit surveyed the busy diner – no bulls, no one with the air of unearned authority. It was safe to approach her, but it was never really safe to converse with any of the members with any familiarity. Of course, with the exception of family, former understudies.
With one more big gulp of her coffee, preventive measures against spilling, Kit stood up, taking it with her to the counter. Tick-Tock and Kitten were examples of just how different members of Les Gens could be; that was where all of the profilers tended to make their mistake. Kitten took it upon herself to be disarmingly cute, such as her name suggested – she was sweet and bubbly, but in the end she was purely an agent of Les Gens. Most of them were. Anything the organization asked of her, she would do without hesitation. Her code of morals was comprised entirely of whatever Les Gens told her was right, or wrong.
Kit propped an elbow against the counter next to Tick-Tock, cupping her mug in one hand while the other pointed just over the counter at the station. ”Can you hand me that?”
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Fever-Induced
I'm definitely still in. Also, sorry about the s**t post -- I'm really out of practice.
xxxselling my soul would be a lot easier if I could just find it.._____
"I was hopin' we could do a _______little business.."
Was tapping her foot, getting just a touch impatient, when someone sidled up next to her. Alison looked from the corner of her eye, checking out the female until realizing that she actually knew the girl. Kitten, her eyes slid over the female's body again as she angled herself towards the other Les Gen member, always a pleasure to see a familiar cute face. Her lips curled into a wide grin, eyes finally lifting high enough to settle on the pick pocket's face. "Sure thing, cutie," she replied with a nod, acting as this was just another girl approaching her and not a fellow worker.
Alison stretched forward and snatched the syrup from it's place and turned to face Kitten again. "You come by here often?" she asked with a quirked eyebrow, passing over the syrup. But Alison didn't really give the other a chance to reply, going on to say, "You're pretty cute, we should grab something to eat sometime, I'm running on a tight schedule at the moment, or else I'd stick around, but-" the waitress interrupted, setting Alison's order on the counter and rattling off the total.
The brunette threw Kitten a look and small smile that said 'just a sec' while she took out her wallet and handed over the money. Alison thanked and dismissed the waitress, then sighed, "Sorry, as I was saying, let's hang sometime, get to know one another," she grabbed a stranded pen and began scribbling on a napkin. She handed it over with a grin, "Take my number. Call me," and winked. The number was fake, but Kitten had the real one anyways. This was merely a subtle way of saying to the other member that she wanted to catch up and see how she was doing, without making it obvious that they were previously familiar with one another.
X x __ compos M E N T i S
it wasn't a shitty post! plus this is supposed to be a relaxed kinda RP right? no need for giant walls of text every post, right? (:
Posted: Mon Oct 20, 2014 7:26 am
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WATCH OUT, THIS KITTEN HAS CLAWS
The members of Les Gens were masters of small talk. And they were great at meeting people, especially each other, for the first time. This was always one of the hardest skills to work into new members, and Kitten had started so early it had been tough for her to remember that, in public, every eye could potentially be dangerous. Kitten accepted the syrup and nodded appreciatively, with the same broad smile.
You come by here often? Like a second home, Kitten would’ve answered, but she didn’t have the chance. And not a bad thing – while she was here fairly often, she didn’t want anyone to actually notice how much. It was hard for her to blend into a crowd, in small, local places like this, but she did what she could to fade into the background. The waitress, for example, did recognize her – but that didn’t mean she wanted half of the regular crowd to, too.
To any curious on-lookers, and there would be some, it looked like Alison had just landed the most effortless pick-up line of all time. They should get something to eat, sometime, she said. But her schedule was tight. With what, Kitten wondered – after all, most members didn’t have a phone. The way to get messages was through the drop box, and Kitten hadn’t been to hers, yet. She made a quick mental note to make sure she wasn’t behind on any news.
They were briefly interrupted by the waitress, and Kitten took advantage of the pause for a long sip of her coffee and when Tick-Tock finished, she beamed back, nodding with a shy little blush. ”I’d like that.” She answered, and accepted the number when it was handed to her, looking it over though she knew there was nothing of value there. Kitten set her coffee on the counter and carefully folded the note before slipping it into her back pocket.
Tick-tock was smooth, it was impressive, and no doubt she could charm anyone out of their wallets – perhaps more. Kitten wasn’t jealous, though, she could note her co-workers’ talents, but she was accustomed to playing a slightly different part. She was less the charming seductress, and more the adorable little hustler. Even a city as cynical as this one had trouble seeing her as a potential enemy. ”I’ll do that,” she assured Tick-tock, and quickly added, ”don’t forget about me, now.” She retrieved her coffee, and with their exchange at a natural end, waved to the other girl and returned to her seat. Just in time for her breakfast to arrive.
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True, that! I may send out a guild announcement in a bit, see if we can breathe some life back into things. Besides, this rp would be a lot more fun with some more people. c=
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