You're gonna bob and weave out of the path of a bullet? That I'd like to see.
Ancient
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Post by Angela Sisco on Dec 9, 2014 18:39:45 GMT
I wonder how it could be, all of us quaking cowards, hiding under covers one day, storming beaches the next, shrinking violets impossibly frail. Our best days spent unquestioning, hurtling into hailstorms; the rest just spent. Opposite extremes, half definitions of the same thing, an inexplicable paradox perhaps best left in a bowl full of kibble to be lapped up by Schrödinger's cat...
Another night, another walk. Repetition was Angela's zen, her calming meditation. The Muncie night air greeted her with an icy embrace, one she pulled away from in a disgusted snarl. If it truly mattered for her physical comfort, she'd readily hate winter. But the truth of being dead, gave her no real reason to dispose the season, only to tolerate it. Even as Angela's mind fantasized about time spent drinking on a hot beach, it did little to warm her body. She pulled the wool coat around her form, and mushed on.
Snow had turned to rain, melting what little had been plastered to the ground. The winter wind licked at her face, the large crescent moon offered her light; pushing back shadows the street lamps had neglected. It was a clear night, the nights she enjoyed most. Angela continued on, the sounds of Christmas music drifting down the empty street as themes of holiday cheer still haunted the young Venture. Houses lined with bright lights, some flickering in maddening patterns and colors caused Angela to bristle.
She watched the darkened lots of alley ways, the shadows remaining flat against the walls and walk ways on the path to downtown. After escaping the Asylum, Angela still had nightmares, still plagued by the faces of shadow monsters she wished to never see again.
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Post by Jean d'Eau on Dec 10, 2014 2:14:54 GMT
On a corner ahead of Angela, one of the deepening shadows shifted and moved away from the wall where it waited. The shadow became a man as Angela came close. Though the face that formed from the shadows was likely not one that she wanted to see again, at least it was one that was familiar to her.
"You come around like a bad habit," Jean said with a grin that gleamed like a knife blade in the night. He held his hands open and out to his sides, trying to assume a non-threatening posture as he made himself known.
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You're gonna bob and weave out of the path of a bullet? That I'd like to see.
Ancient
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Post by Angela Sisco on Dec 10, 2014 3:05:39 GMT
Angela slowed her stride, her hands drifting from her coat pockets as she watched the shadows shape into a figure she hadn't wished to see again. Shadows became flesh, molding into the dark clothing he wore. The shadow fell back from his skin, being summoned to return to a dark abyss. As his lips curled up in a cheshire grin, Angela resisted the impulse to pistol whip Jean.
Asshole
She stopped only long enough to see that smile slice into his pale, handsome features. "I thought co-eds were more your speed?" Angela frowned, the thought of Jean stepping from the shadows so care free, made her nervous. Creepy was more an appropriate feeling. "But if you really feel the need to taunt me, why don't we walk to the store. I have things to pick up."
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Post by Jean d'Eau on Dec 10, 2014 3:26:32 GMT
Jean grinned. "Well, I don't normally slum it with our own kind, but for you, I could make an exception." He fell into step with her and put his hands in his jacket pockets. "You know, you should probably stop using the word 'taint'. I've been told that it has a different connotation in modern times. Kids these days." He shook his head slightly, the same grin still plastered on his face.
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You're gonna bob and weave out of the path of a bullet? That I'd like to see.
Ancient
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Post by Angela Sisco on Dec 10, 2014 3:47:42 GMT
Angela let her hands rest naturally at her sides, never letting complacency cloud her judgement. She kept the shadow jumper in her sight as they rounded the corner, the lights of downtown blocking out the beauty of the night sky. The was moon was lost in a sea of light pollution, but the night chill never waved.
"What do I owe for your visit, Jean?" Angela surprisingly didn't sound angry, never snapping at him as she passed one store, then another till she came to a local market.
She pulled open the door, the chiming of holiday bells, clicking cheerfully against one another.
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Post by Jean d'Eau on Dec 10, 2014 13:15:05 GMT
Jean was seemed happy enough to walk down the street just ahead of her. He walked as if he seemed to know where she was going. He looked back at her occasionally, the same wry smile on his lips. "Oh, I just thought I might help you with your groceries. I hate to see a lady out alone all by herself late at night. Who knows what kind of weirdos are lurking in the shadows."
Jean followed her into the store, grimacing slightly at the cheery brightness of the shop. He did not seem pleased with all of the holiday decorations. Seeing a stuffed snowman on a display case, he raised an icy finger and poked it in an annoyed manner. He sneered at it as if it were something distasteful that he had just stepped in and now had to scrape off of the bottom of his boot.
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You're gonna bob and weave out of the path of a bullet? That I'd like to see.
Ancient
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Post by Angela Sisco on Dec 10, 2014 14:12:22 GMT
Angela glared at him, her dark brown eyes never wavering from monster leading her to the store. It didn't bother her that he knew where she was going, or even where her haven rested. Angela remembered the days were being taunted didn't bother her, it was part of the job to deal with all kinds of assholes. I guess begin dead the tempers shorten and once boredom kicks in, there's not much to do but poke other monsters.
She took up a basket and gathered a few mall buckets of caulking and paint brushes. Angela watched Jean poked at a Christmas decoration, 'it's like an earthquake. You just got to ride it out."
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Post by Jean d'Eau on Dec 10, 2014 14:25:33 GMT
Jean turned from the toy and grinned at her impishly. "That's what I usually tell the ladies right before we spend a bit of quality time together. How did you know? I haven't used that line on you in some past life, have I?" He was so bold as to wink at her before turning away to share a few more grinchy expressions with some of the other decoration items.
"You know," he went on as he walked with her down the isles of the store. "I could help you with your little home improvement project. I'm pretty good with some caulk." There was that same smile, the one that didn't quite reach the corner of his eyes. He watched her carefully as if searching her face for something.
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You're gonna bob and weave out of the path of a bullet? That I'd like to see.
Ancient
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Post by Angela Sisco on Dec 11, 2014 0:32:57 GMT
"Is that before or after you slip them a roofie." Angela set the items on the counter and took out a couple of twenties. She watched the owner scan the small buckets of caulking and paint brushes. Then Jean started wagging that pale jag of his...
Angela sighed out, her frustration suddenly spiking.
"I didn't expected someone of your age to drop the innuendos." She gathered the bag with her items and headed for the door.
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Post by Jean d'Eau on Dec 11, 2014 3:36:19 GMT
Getting a rise from Sisco only seemed to spur him on. "One must adapt to the times," he said with a shrug. "Should I act my age, do you think? If I did that, I would probably need to play dead."
Jean laughed at his own joke and gave the owner a parting look that would curdle milk before following Angela out the door. "I'm surprised at you, Angie. You know so little about me and yet you make such wild assumptions. Why would I ever have need to incapacitate my amorous interests in such a way when there are so many much more interesting options to consider? Perhaps those options would be a bit messier, but the best type of fun is rarely a tidy affair."
There was a slight growl in his voice as he said the last few words. The smile was still on his lips and his steps seemed almost carefree as he shadowed her down the sidewalk.
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You're gonna bob and weave out of the path of a bullet? That I'd like to see.
Ancient
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Post by Angela Sisco on Dec 11, 2014 15:25:30 GMT
Again came the sacred pet name. Clearly Jean would make a mockery of her name too.
"I don't want to get to know you, Jean. I just needed help painting my walls." Angela tucked the loose money into her jacket pocket.
As they left the store the owner locked the door after them, pulling the shade down over the glass. Fear broke him out into sweat, his eyes so wide the white threatened to pop from his skull. Angela continued walking, "shut the hole in your face. I don't want to know the details of your hunting."
Yes. Please, play dead. Right over there in that ally way, would be grrrrreat.
Angela stopped and turned, with a hand on his chest; suddenly closing the distance. The streets were so still, so quiet. Only the sounds of distant traffic and soft Christmas music could be heard. The darkened ally was a perfect place to leave a torpored kindred to meet the sunlight. Angela stepped closer to him and gave a soft inviting smile, "if you want to play dead, Jean. I'll be more then happy to help. Just a little wood right here," she pointed to where his heart lay dead in his chest. "Then a little steal there," she drew her finger gently across his pale throat. "But that would be for theatrics."
Angela dropped her hand and her smile. "Now, are you going to help me paint my walls, or are you going to continue acting like an ass?"
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Post by Jean d'Eau on Dec 12, 2014 2:15:12 GMT
Jean's grin actually widens when Angela gets close to threaten him. He seems to be paying her actual words little attention, instead watching her movements carefully. The skin of his neck is nearly as cold as his smile when she finishes speaking.
"I am going to help you paint your walls," he says quietly, AND continue to act like an ass. We are all playing dead, Angie. You're just not having any fun with it."
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You're gonna bob and weave out of the path of a bullet? That I'd like to see.
Ancient
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Post by Angela Sisco on Dec 12, 2014 23:33:04 GMT
Being dead wasn't fun for Angela. Nothing about being a blood sucking monster who lives below sunset, is FUN! She swallowed down her anger again fished out her house keys.
"Here. Hold these." She shoved the bag of items into Jean's arms. Angela slide the key into the lock and turned the brass lock a bit more forcefully then she needed to.
Angela took the bag and headed into her house. "Just keep the dick jokes to yourself." She crossed the thrush hold of her door and tossed the keys onto the counter.
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Post by Jean d'Eau on Dec 16, 2014 13:55:08 GMT
Jean chuckles lightly, the sound cold and calculated, perfected from years of practice. "I can't help where your mind wanders, Angie. You're the one that brought poor Richard into it. But if you rather we spend the nights lamenting our undead state and focusing on the doldrums of eternity, I will defer to the lady of the house."
Jean sets the bags down on the counter and riffles through them. Finding what he is looking for, he pulls the caulk out and lifts it up triumphantly with a wicked grin. "Now, why don't you show me what you want me to do with this bad boy."
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You're gonna bob and weave out of the path of a bullet? That I'd like to see.
Ancient
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Post by Angela Sisco on Dec 17, 2014 1:07:51 GMT
Pealing the layers of winter clothing from her body, Angela flung the jacket on the back of a wooden chair. The gun slid easily from the holster at her back, the slick cold metal a sudden comfort to wash away the irritation before she breathed out and placed the weapon in a desk drawer.
"I'm patching up some holes here in the living room and then sealing the tub upstairs." Angela handed Jean the a small caulking scraper and jar of caulking paste. "Next I have title to lay down in the kitchen."
Lifting up a pair of pliers, Angela went to work repairing some wiring to an old light fixture. "So, how much are your services going to cast me?"
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