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 21, 2014 2:11:45 GMT
Whether it's secrets, justice or the Amazon rain forest, every one of us protects things a thousand times a day. It doesn't take a gun; for most of us, protection is as quiet and reflexive as a breath. For some, though, for knights in shining armor, the lone ranger, a boyfriend or a mother, protection can be a hard habit to break. As much as we thump the bible about the vital need to change, the fact is, we hardly ever do. We stay here, halfway to happy, in our old familiar places, with our feet stuck firmly on the ground.
The bar was a hole in the wall, a place for a young kindred to sit and let the night pass unmolested. The beer smelled hoppy, though tasting it made her face twist with a bitter after twinge. She asked for a whiskey, knowing she could never fully enjoy the burn of the alcohol or the rough taste of the liquid as it settled in her stomach. The bartender set a glass down and filled the clear shot with amber liquid before going back to polishing the one he had been busy with earlier. Angela rested her elbows on the counter, relaxed not waiting for anyone or anything. But it never failed that something always found her in whatever establishment she squatted in.
The eleven o'clock news whispered from the cracked flat screen mounted to the bar wall. A reporter clung to her wool coat, keeping her eyes from the bitter winter wind as she spoke into the mic in her hand.
"Police are still investigating the multiple grave robberies here, at Beech Grove Cemetery. Each grave ravaged, and coffins emptied leaving families devastated. With no clues as to why the graves were robbed, investigators have yet to find a suspect." The reporter turned, the lights of the camera catching the falling snow.
"Excuse, me. Sir?" A man held up his hand, blocking the light form the camera, his five o'clock shadow dark and dirty. "Can you tell me what you saw here the other night?"
His hand red and chapped from the icy cold lowered and he squinted his eyes against the light. "Those graves weren't robbed. They were dug up from the inside."
"Saw who digging, sir?" The reporter braced herself from the cold, trying to not to look disgusted by the grounds keeper.
"Not who! A what!" He clenched his jaw, trying to gain a bit more composure. "I've never seen anything like it. Th..they pushed the ground open like it was nothing. Right through the frozen dirt. They reached right out from underneath. It's Hell on earth is what it is!"
The reporter turned away from the grounds keeper as a uniform officer pulled him away from the camera.
"As you can see, this has the community shaken and upset by the violation to our local cemetery. This is Amanda Parks reporting to you live, from Beech Grove Cemetery." The news cut to the another anchor, something about the holidays bringing a prediction of slow moving traffic.
Angela sat back as if relaxed, the smell of the wild drifting from the jacket she had been wearing; now draped on the back of the bar stool. But it was the feel of metal against her fingers as they drifted along the handle of her gun, did she feel the calm wash over any fear she might have felt from the live, broadcast confession.
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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 28, 2014 21:08:08 GMT
Muncie was a harbor of monsters and other creatures Angela didn't fully understand. The news was full of stories like these, accounts of monsters and boogie men, all trying to destroy humanity.
Angela took the drink in hand and sipped it again, never swallowing the tempting liquor but only taking a torturous taste. She really should have kept that flame thrower Grey had offered.
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Post by Sebastian Ainsworth on Dec 29, 2014 16:22:15 GMT
" Do you make a habit of torturing yourself like that?" Sebastian had an easy time tracking down the young kindred. A severe looking woman, wearing leathers, was actually pretty hard to narrow down in Munice, but add in the bearing of a police officer, and it was easy from there. He saddled up to the bar next to her. He wasn't dressed how he normally; jeans, tee-shirt, and a simple leather jacket were the fare for today. Of course if you looked closely enough, there was plenty of evidence to suggest the man had money, ridiculous amounts of it. He waved the bartender way, " I'm fine. Go help the other patrons. I'd like to talk to my friend in private." He forced the idea into the bartender's mind, sinking it deep into the man's brain, before turning to Angela. He could already see the woman tense up, he knew she didn't really like him, that was fine by him, as long as she behaved.
Dominate 2: 9 + 6 = 15 - the bartenders resolve |
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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 29, 2014 17:48:25 GMT
"I'm not the masochistic type, Mr. Ainsworth." Angela's polite disposition holding a bit of mockery.
She set the glass down, the lingering taste of the amber liquor, delicious. It wasn't just the act of drinking, it was the memories that were attached. The scent of the wild lingered on her clothing, almost masking the smell of rosemary and mint. Interesting combination. Gave wonder to where she had been spending her nights. Angela didn't attempt to hide from the kindred community. What was the point? They always found her, one way or another.
Sebastian's clothing helped him blend; in that manner in which rich kids tried to dress down with expensive worn out jeans and leather jackets. But he couldn't hide his breeding. It wasn't effortless, not like Angela. But put the young Venture in a dress, and she was just as uncomfortable.
Angela turned in the bar stool, pressing a boot to the metal footing of Sebastian's seat. Facing him head on, not hiding her eyes from his stern posture.
"What do you want?" She didn't sound brooding, just asking a simple question. Angela didn't like Sebastian and she didn't try very hard to hide it. He was a pompous asshole, but worse, he was reckless with the lives of the kindred he was supposed to be protecting.
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Post by Sebastian Ainsworth on Dec 29, 2014 19:18:59 GMT
"That would take a long time to answer, Ms Sisco."
He could smell the wild on her, covering the normal spicy scent of her hair. The smell of fresh earth and leaves, like sticky tree sap and nettles. Dogs....wolves maybe, musky though and not bathed often. Not what would he would have expected from her, but he guessed that was the point ... it wasn't her. He smiled inwardly, his eyes meeting hers head on, uncaring that she was so close.
"I thought you would have left by now. Between your apparent disdain for me and your history in Indianapolis, I figured you would have fled the city at the first available opportunity. And now that the shadows have...fallen..." He let the unspoken hang in the air, knowing she'd fill in the rest. "And now this," he points at the TV and the talking heads, chattering on about the holiday rush. "...It seems nothing is sacred anymore."
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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 29, 2014 21:54:42 GMT
Angela didn't give him the sanctification of a glare. She would just add him to the list of individuals who tried to analogize the lowly Venture. "I like to think I know myself pretty well."
She watched Sebastian, her elbow resting on the counter; apparently relaxed.
"Is that why you're here, to see me off? I'm touched." Angela didn't hint at sarcasm, but her tone was still clipped if not stoic. She took up her drink, tasting the delicious burn of amber liquor again, before setting it down. She still held on to her human habits, an indication of her young blood. "But, the weeknights are still young and my disdain for you isn't going anywhere." Angela smiled then, her dark brown eyes lighting up as her lips curled in a facade of enjoyment; the venom still pulsing underneath.
"When you live in such tight knit community, like ours, nothing is sacred."
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Post by Sebastian Ainsworth on Dec 30, 2014 2:07:27 GMT
There was the sass, the fire, the temper. The old detective had a mouth on her that could light a forest fire. That was something he needed, he wanted to bottle it and throw it at the darkness. Then he would be able to see.
"You would like to think you know a lot of things, don't you Angela" The old world etiquette dropped from his vernacular, like a tire iron in the hands of a mugger after a fresh kill. He let that sink for the barest breathe of a second.
"I came down her to see if I could persuade you to stay."
Why? Why let another mangy good for nothing unaligned remain in the city? Burn them out, all of them. Then maybe he could have some peace. But that wouldn't work, Kindred washed up on Muncie's shores all the time, not a one of them from here. There was something about this pathetic excuse for a small town that drew Kindred in like moths to a flame.
"I want you as my reeve."
She was right, he didn't have any respect for the lives of his fellow kindred. He hated most of the people in this city, but he did what was expected of him. He was expected to keep the city safe, to put the right people into the right places, and hold them together, some how. How does one do that with monsters and other horrors roaming around the night? You can't, but you can minimize the damage.
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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 30, 2014 16:35:44 GMT
Angela didn't bother answering his first question, being rhetorical in nature. But the young Kindred knew herself as much as her memory would allow.
Her smile was still curved in a beautiful facade, her anger just boiling underneath. As an Unaligned she offered no political assets, or financial diplomatic intrigue. Angela was just a smart ass, but caused no real problems. Hell, she solved more issues then she brought to the counter.
In that moment of Sebastian's declaration, Angela was glad she wasn't drinking; least she spit all over the Prince and waste a good taste of whisky. She let the surprise show on her face. While Angela and Sebastian had this conversation before...
"Well, that'll be difficult, considering. And I have no interest in joining. So don't paw me with your dirty little guild." Angela's tone wasn't bitter, but her calm nature was a slap in the face. There was nothing Sebastian could offer her, that would make serving under him a pleasure.
The young Venture didn't even want to know why Sebastian had asked, and his persuasion techniques were lacking.
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Post by Sebastian Ainsworth on Dec 31, 2014 18:31:48 GMT
"I'm not asking you to join the Unconquered you insufferable twat," Sebastian was not in the mood and had no time for mockery today, thinly veiled or otherwise. The Invictus must be respected, at least according to internal doctrine. That was easier said then done when you could just brow beat it into them. Instead he had to rely on his reputation, which was non-existent and wained any time someone like her, like this unaligned no body, challenged him and he didn't respond with violence.
"I would sooner have you in the Invictus than my own leg in a wood chipper. I'm asking you to be the sheriff."
You should just add her to your collection Sebastian.
Crush her will, be done with it.
Feed her to the dogs.
Perhaps I'll do all three.
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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 31, 2014 21:21:52 GMT
Angela smiled, really smiled. Her lips curling enough that the mockery had melted away and her beauty pierced through her bitchy overtones. Sebastian's bark was big. Good. Nice to see he wasn't all breeding. He'd need that in this, Hell hole.
"I know what you're asking. You've asked before." Angela's smile dropped, she understood what it meant for him come all the way here, track her down and mingle with commoners.
"I'll do it under one condition." Angela was all business then, her eyes never leaving the Prince.
"Come with me to Indianapolis. The city is dark and I need answers. If we come back, I'll be your new Sheriff."
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Post by Sebastian Ainsworth on Dec 31, 2014 22:01:40 GMT
Sebastian raised an eyebrow, that was a bold choice, but an easy payment. What was the catch? He was curious about Indianapolis, but had intended to let others take the reins on that. Now he was being asked to go and play her body guard? He found these terms equitable, even cheaper than he was expecting to pay. He found these terms equitable.
"That's it, come with you to Indianapolis, play bodyguard, and bring you back? Just the two of us?"
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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 31, 2014 22:40:10 GMT
"Just the two of us."
Angela smiled at him again, those dark brown eyes brightening again.
Bodyguard?
"Not as a bodyguard, Sebastian. We look out for one another and we'll make it back in one piece." If he refused, Angela would go anyway. She was more than capable.
"Think of it as a way to build trust between the two of us. To tare down some of that disdain."
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Post by Sebastian Ainsworth on Jan 1, 2015 19:30:23 GMT
His eyes explored her face, looking for any kind of deception or trap. How he wished he were better at reading people. A long moment passed before he finally said anything.
"All right, I'll come with you. I admit that I'm curious as to what happened there as well, but had intended to let others explore that avenue." Sebastian reached over the bar and grabbed a bottle of whiskey and a glass. Pouring himself a glass of his own, he turned to Angela again and raised to her. "Shall we seal this in the tradition manner?" He still sounded skeptical that this was going to be this easy.
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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 Jan 2, 2015 19:40:48 GMT
Angela had no hidden agenda, no secret ambush waiting for him in Indy. She just had a simple request for a not so simple kindred.
"I'm a simple woman, Sebastian. I don't ask for much and I don't need a lot."
She watched as he reached across the counter and collected the bottle of whisky. The liquor granted her a sharp aroma, the promise of the burn to come with tasting. Angela lifted her glass of amber liquid, as his tone played skeptical.
She spoke her thoughts from earlier, "there isn't a hidden agenda, Sebastian." Angela was telling the truth. She gained nothing by lying. Lies only added complications, and Angela wasn't the complicated type.
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Post by Sebastian Ainsworth on Jan 4, 2015 15:27:22 GMT
"Alright Angela, I believe you, I don't know why but I do. To safe travels." He brought his glass close. contacting hers with the musical sound of glass on glass. He allowed his heart to start beating again, bringing organs to life that hadn't worked for the better part of a decade. He tapped the bar with his glass and shot the whole glass, that familiar and loving burn of the liquor traveled down his throat and into his belly. The thrill wasn't as high as it used to be, nor did it match the warm delicious rapture of feeding, but it brought back familiar memories.
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