Last five threads posted in:
And you stanky, so.. it might matter juuuust a bit.
Happy 7th Bloodletting birthday!
||Who, little ol' me?
||You know who?
||He laughed victoriously when she relented, her normal brogue returning in a rush. “Come on, that wasn’t even a GOOD American accent.. you almost sounded like the Lucky Charms guy. American trying to sound Irish, but failing terribly.”
At her next statement, he paused, his tone turning horrified.
”Wait.. are you telling me you’re not getting me strippers?!”
||Solomon sat up, rubbing at an eye with his free hand. He was awake now.
“Strippers? Sorry Lisa, but I didn’t order an-“ He paused. Why would he say no to such a gift? But.. he didn’t order strippers. Who could’ve..
He smirked and leaned back into the couch, crossing an arm over his chest. “Lisa? You wouldn’t also happen to go by ‘Mackenzie’, would you?”
||Solomon is napping blissfully on his couch when his phone rings, rousing him. Only slightly grumpily rubbing his face, he picks his phone up and checks the caller ID, only to find that it’s an unknown number. Frowning, he answered.
||*strikes a pose* I know look at me! I'm so pretty now!
||"Welcome Back to After Dark!"
||Welcome to After Dark Lady Mackenzie."
"Yer smellin' kinda funny these days!"
||Solomon had been sitting half-asleep on the couch, watching an old Star Trek episode on TV (Picard, not Kirk) when he was made to stir by the high peal of coins hitting glass. His head jerked up with a muffled snore, and he blinked a few times, trying to clear the sleep away from his eyes. Mackenzie must have heard, for her voice called out cheerily not a moment later.
”Soooooloooomon. Get off yer bloody arse and join m'fer a drink! It's a bloody HOLIDAY! Everyone is a fecking Irish...person...today. Even Paul Bunyan!”
Oh, right. St. Patrick’s Day.
He hobbled up from the couch and rounded the corner into the dining room, where he saw her sitting at the table with an already empty bottle of Jameson, and a nearly-full one at the ready. Coins were scattered everywhere, and she had a cheery, glazed over expression. Her cheeks were flushed and her aim slightly off, but she was still going for it.
It sure looked like a good bit of fun.
“Got another shot glass around?”
||A rare thing for her to be out in the city, especially one as brimming with people as New York; Katherine still found herself walking the streets lost in thought. Being jostled in the crowd wasn’t unheard of, so she remained in quiet reverie; however, feeling light digits move across her person and slipping into pockets to relieve her of the petty cash she normally carried.
Jerking cerulean orbs upward, just in time to catch the petite brunette glancing over her shoulder, Katherine stopped dead in her tracks and a single brow arched slowly. It was certainly turning into an interesting place, this city. Curling lips into a smile, Katherine barely moved her lips as the whispered burr slipped free; a mock bow followed before she faded into the crowd.
”Good to see you, Kenz…”
||Brow furrowed above pale eyes, Livia examined the gift box that sat atop her desk. It had been quite a while since she was gifted anything...Balsamic vinegar by the barrelful, a heart in a wooden box. But truth be told, it wasn't so much what was inside the box, the material item, it was just having a present to to open that Livia enjoyed. The thoughtfulness of a gift being bestowed upon her. That was what she most enjoyed...not that she didn't appreciate what was gifted...but the fact someone had been nice enough to think of her. It humbled her.
Delicately she opened the box, withdrew the note with one hand while retrieving the item with the other. The Slayer, studiously read and re-read the letter penned by Mack as a smile drew scarred pout higher and higher upwards. Looking at the movie in hand, Livia nodded. She understood.
Taking a piece of stationery from the desk drawer, Livia penned a note to the woman she had not seen for quite some time.
Don't you try to pretend...It's my feeling we'll win in the end. I won't harm you or touch your defenses...
Thank you. So very much.
The Basket Case,
P.s. You're kind of sexy when you're angry.
||Congrats on POTD!
||*Dannica had barely been paying attention when she opened the door to her office, her mind focused on the competitive word game on her phone. It wasn't until the toe of her black leather boot kicked something that her eyes shifted to the floor, and then slowly up to the ceiling. Her eyes widened in amazement and her mouth dropped open just a bit.*
Holy St. Patrick's Day!
*She looked around, slightly bewildered, wondering if anybody else in the catacombs would even be able to hear her if she called. How the hell was she supposed to get out of this? With only slight hesitancy, she reached out and pulled a bottle from the neatly stacked row. Jenga anyone? Nothing moved. Then with a shrug, she opened it and took a swig, turning around to retreat into her office. Someone would find her...eventually.*
||*Bites down hard on laugh*
"Now see, that i have no doubts about. At least I don't have to try and fix you up with a flea collar. "
"Wow did you take a wrong turn somewhere. Come here and let me help you with your problem."
||She couldn't believe her eyes as she roamed the halls looking for the next person to save from the boredom of being locked away in the dungeon. She never even hid anymore when she came around these parts. Rarely was she ever thrown behind bars for her actions because she wouldn't be there long. Before her was the big bad Mackenzie locked away in a cell, and for some reason, it just wouldn't feel right to leave her there. Elisa pulled a bobby pin out of her hair, and quickly and quietly unlocked the cell. "Pleasure to see you again, Mack." She smiled and offered her former leader her pin for next time she found herself stuck.
||The veteran slayer was no stranger to New York; his first few footsteps on the lifestyle forced upon him had been spent in the Big Apple, learning from the most experienced slayer at the time. How far he had come since those days.
New York was no longer strictly a slayer city, of course, the vampiress Mackenzie had started up some sort of lair for bloodsuckers and those affiliated with them in her home city, and he held a level of respect for what some could view as his most powerful enemy.
Straying near the Sine Metu headquarters, possibly against his better judgement, Mordent could have sworn he heard his name carried on the wind. The voice was familiar, an unlikely occurrence in a city so far from his own interests. Moving at street level towards where his keen ears had caught the musical tone, he felt both uneasy and comfortable at the same time... as if he shouldn't be here, but no harm would come of it. Some would call it arrogance, he called it a sense of adventure.
Now where was that voice coming from?
||Everytime I see your bio, I cannot help but say...AMAZING writer!
||*Dannica stares at her former confidante Mackenzie as she wanders the Realm in her shiny new gold robes. With a tiny glint in her eyes, she runs up behind her pouring purple paint all down the front of the tiny Irish girls outfit. Then, before she can turn and retaliate, she reaches into her bag and pulls out two large handfuls of sparkling purple glitter. With a giggle she tosses it over the paint and runs away.*
I like you better purple!