|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 Posted: Sun Sep 14, 2014 9:15 pm
Angel sat upon her picnic bench, the eucalyptus wood holding solid beneath her weight, while she fiddled with the strap of her heeled shoe. "Come now, you piece of rubbish," she coaxed lowly while she worked at the already beleaguered and creased leather, hoping that enough force might finally work it into capitulation. Finally she gave up on the practice altogether, heaving a sigh toward the stars while both hands came to a resounding thump on the table. "Is there really some sort of rule out there that things can't go my way for but two days in a row?"
The heavens never answered back.
After offering a followup toward the stars with a rude gesture, Angel sighed and shifted her attentions toward the college ruled notebook left at her side. In seizing the pencil, she embarked on her nervous habit of chewing at the eraser while she searched about herself for some sign of movement. The myriad fliers dispersed through the city advertised the want of powered folk toward her location, with the specification of a promised interview for an occult magazine - such a gesture either spelled glorious success for her career or an utter disaster in the form of lost life.
Either way, she wouldn't have to worry about getting fired.
Still, the suspense in waiting played at her nerves while she resorted to talking to herself as a means to keep company. "England is starting to look like such a simple gig... All I had to do was tread about in some rotten dump and write up my experiences with spirits and all that rot. Half the places offered little more than a jump scare here or there, or some oddball moaning left behind by the wind. But here? There's some terribly convincing nightmares lurking behind every corner... Stellar job, Angel, in moving out to a quaint little town that's trying to kill you every chance it gets. This isn't exactly the foray into the occult that I expected it to be..."
With a sigh, she resumed rotating her pencil between fingers while she tried to ignore the growing sense of foreboding that festered in her gut.Sunshine Alouette why hello hi there you bright little thing, tell me a story
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Sep 15, 2014 9:06 am
Ganymede didn't really find much credibility in magazines of a more occult slant, but she thought interviewing for one might offer some amusement. To the everyday civilian the war itself might seem to have a bit of a paranormal bend to it; Ganymede certainly preferred that view to the terrorists they were often accused of being.
She approached the picnic table slowly, her senses on high alert. Trepidation held her back, made her cautious, always watchful for a trap. She wouldn't put it past the Negaverse to orchestrate a silly ruse and spring another ambush. Yet there were no other power signatures in the area, and the only figure she saw was that of a seemingly harmless civilian. Even so, Ganymede remained vigilant. She saw no reason to trust that this would be the innocent interview it'd been advertised as.
She came to a stop some feet away from the picnic table, observing the civilian girl with a look of mild curiosity. To one unaccustomed to powered life, Ganymede was likely a sight to behold—a slight girl in lace and ruffles, dark hose and four inch heels, the colors of her fuku somewhat garish against her fair complexion. With her bare shoulders, snug bustier, and overdone make-up, she looked a bit like a turn-of-the-century callgirl.
Roxanne, you don't have to sell your body to the night.
Sacrifice it, more like. She certainly wasn't being paid for her war efforts.
“You the girl with the magazine?” Ganymede said. She has a sensuous voice that matched the image her powered form projected more than it did the sweet, dainty look she sported in daylight.
“You're not from around here,” she observed. She'd noted the accent. It made her suspicious, a reaction she did not bother to hide. “What's your interest in... us?”
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Sep 17, 2014 10:46 am
Angel did not often stare at other people, as she found them demanding of only a small fleck of her interest - primarily, the spirits that goaded and prodded their lives served the focal point for her attentions. But on this night, so dark and dim around the picnic table, Angel stared wide-eyed and wholly flabbergasted at the brilliant entity standing before her, all porcelain and curls and trains of lace like some bordeaux beauty delivered right to her doorstep.
"Hell-lo, Gorgeous," she heard herself saying. With an audible huff of relief, Angel flattened a hand to her sternum while fanning herself with her free hand. "I never expected that a knockout would just drift in my direction. Whew!" Another flurry of waves to flush away some of the heated embarrassment. "Say, Love, to whom did you sell your soul to end up looking like that? I could use a little dolling up myself!" Astarte never looked at good - at least not what I saw of her. All runes and chains and tiger lilies, that. Never so... Brothel beautiful. 'Course, Malice isn't a terribly flattering sphere. I wonder what hers is, and what all those strange little lacerations are on her body.
"Girl with the magazine is right," she offered, standing up a trifle to offer her hand. "Angel Aimless. You are?" It'll be good to know, in Astarte's garb and out. It's never a bad thing to have contacts.
Sitting back down, she cleared her throat while she opened to a blank page of her notebook. On it, she documented the presence of the glowing cuts along her body, the symbol on her forehead, and the curious vestments she sported. "You're quite right - I'm from England. London, precisely. The magazine I work for is a touch international, you see, and horror stories from the hauntings of England fell a bit out of favor with what's going on in Destiny City. There's sort of this... Rotational cycle pertaining to what people find interested in." To demonstrate, she rotated her hands in cyclical fashion, gesticulating toward every subject mentioned. "It might start out as UFOs for a few years, then afterward yetis and other monsters that pervade remote areas, then hauntings and the like, then curious powers exhibited by other people. As you can likely guess, you fall into the last category - with the last two being the most popular right now.
"'Course, that's making it sound like I'm some kind of celebrity publicist or the like, looking for public attention for stupidly simple reasons. You see, public fascination stems from fear alongside the want to know. It's easy enough to figure out why the Tower is haunted, but can you imagine how difficult it is to ferret out the reason behind monsters looming in our alleys, or people like you occurring in one particular city with an agenda shrouded in mystery? It's this phenomenal, once-in-a-lifetime occurrence to even see something like this unfold. Ah, it's more like... A UFO hunter watching one crash, and being able to survey the wreckage for himself. A touch morbid, maybe, but you see my point, right?
"So, if you're up for it, would you mind sharing with me a bit of your story?" Angel readied her pencil, attentive eyes centered on the blonde bombshell across from her.Sunshine Alouette nooo you got her talking gany whyyyy
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Nov 24, 2014 4:46 am
Distrustful as she might have been at the outset, Ganymede found herself smiling with smug pleasure as she was ogled. She did, after all, have a bit of a vain streak. It wasn't quite as bad as it used to be, but compliments and praise still had a way of putting someone on her good side.
Besides, she was beginning to grow more comfortable with herself. It was nice to receive the attention when she was actually of a mind to appreciate it (and even, as the case may be, to believe it of herself).
She took the girls hand for a brief shake and introduced herself only as, “Ganymede.”
Ganymede took a seat across from the other girl—Angel? Initially, Ganymede thought it a strange name for someone who seemed to have an interest in the paranormal and the occult (and a vested one at that, if she was being paid for her work), but upon further reflection it seemed quite suitable given that angels were supernatural beings in and of themselves.
She listened attentively without interruption. For the hell of it, she leaned against the table with her arms folded over top, her body positioned forward in such a way that put her cleavage on display. Powered down she appeared somewhat less endowed, but a magical bustier had a way of giving her chest a bit of a boost.
“My story?” Ganymede wondered. She lifted a hand to idly twirl a golden curl around one of her fingers. “There's not really much to tell. I learned about all this when I was still just a civilian. Christmas Eve twenty-ten, there was an incident in town square. Some snow queen with little snow minions. Two months after that I had what we call an awakening. Back then I blamed it on the fact that I'd seen the snow monster. Assumed the magic was contagious. I became this,” she said, motioning to herself.
“Unfortunately we don't get to choose our own outfits,” she added, harking back to one of Angel's prior questions. Ganymede smiled a flirty smile as she continued, “If I'd had the chance, I might have chosen something a little warmer. This isn't really appropriate once the weather starts to cool.”Aeeth Two months later and I'm finally in the mindset to tag things again. orz There is absolutely no rush on a response, though. You just focus on yourself and take however long you need, okay? <3
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
