She wakes up, covered in her own blood and her clothes in tatters. She showers twice, scrubs the floor until the blood is gone and her skin blisters, then sits on her couch for what seems like an eternity before she finally picks up the phone and sends the message to Sam. She moves about the room with a restless energy, both aimless and pointed at the same time. There's no countdown clock sitting over her head. She's finally free.
(It doesn't escape her that contacting the person she is runs the risk of dragging her back in again, that he could cut her life just as short simply by answering the phone, but at least this time she would know what she was getting into.)
Once the message is sent she sits again, the scent of blood and bleach still lingering in the air, and she waits. She knows he's probably on his way, it's just a matter of when he gets here.
Not that most days in Haven aren't without their endlessness, but as far as her short term memory (which given what's she's slowly unraveling about her life, is clearly the better functioning one) is concerned? This is the one that takes the cake. This is the one that makes her want to do nothing but drink until she feels less like the weight of Haven is sitting on her shoulders.
Isn't it just really convenient that she happens to live above a bar?
She pulls up a stool in the Grey Gull after abandoning all vestiges of her day upstairs, including her jacket, badge, and gun. A few drinks in, and she's starting to think she should have left her shoes behind too. She wasn't entirely sure that Duke would actually care if she was barefoot in his bar, though knowing her luck that's when she would get Tetanus or step on a broken bottle or whatever else.
Maybe she should just buy the bottle and head back upstairs.
It's another drink as she ponders the merit of that particular train of thought when she's suddenly sidetracked by an unfamiliar face. There aren't too many of those in Haven - she would know, she used to be one of them. The last one she remembers seeing is the new bartender Duke found, Stefan. This is not Stefan. Not unless Stefan got affected by some kind of Trouble which changes gender which, while entirely possible, is an idea that's quickly dismissed when the stranger in question glances over Audrey without any hint of recognition.
Definitely new person then.
"I don't think I've seen you before." The "I don't think" should be entirely ignored because she knows she hasn't, but given how much alcohol she's had, there's still a chance that she may be wrong. After all, it has been a long day. "New in town?"
Attention to detail can be the thing that either saves your ass or gets you into trouble, especially with magic, so she's developed a habit of being very good at it. From spells to potions and everything in between she makes sure that things are precisely the way they're supposed to be. This also, on occasion, transfers to things like school and work. In this particular instance it's school. It's the new kid, the one who's wandered into a few of her classes and she has never seen him before.
In fact, she's never seen anything like him before. There's something ... off about his aura, a kind of fragmented glow that indicates he's linked to the moon somehow, but there are so many options. It's not even the glow that bothers her, it's the cracks in between, the fragments of light that seem almost as though they've been shoved somewhere that they don't belong.
(Which only makes her even more curious about him, to the point where she's almost stalking him. It's probably very annoying.)
All the same, her stalking isn't always the most careful, either. All it takes is a few wrong steps and she's stumbling forward into the back of her target, scattering papers and books everywhere as she does. She flops back onto the ground, looking rather stunned at this turn of events. She wasn't supposed to get caught.
"I am so sorry." She quickly scrambles onto her knees, trying to gather her papers together and make sure her notes aren't seen. "I can't believe I was so clumsy."
This is something Rafe knows all too well. He knows Alexander well, and any best friend of Alexander's worth his salts would be aware of just how he feels about any and all academic endeavors. Rafe isn't all too thrilled with the place himself, but he does have a mother that's got daggers for eyes and a sharp knife for a tongue, and puts him in his place if he ever starts slacking. She's a loving mother, don't get him wrong, but she also doesn't let him get away with crap.
Rafe's not going to deny he is deathly afraid of her. Guevara women in general are a sight to behold when they're putting the fear of God into you.
He should've kept this fear of Mrs. Guevara in mind when he let Alexander talk him into cutting class. Rafe hadn't seen the harm in it at first, but seeing as how they've just fallen into their first official rabbit hole in the new universe they find themselves in, he's kind of re-thinking his initial stance on the whole thing.
"Last time I ever let you talk me into anything, man," Rafe says. (This is a lie. Alexander always has the ability to talk Rafe into a lot of things, and undoubtedly he'll do it again.
Besides, the fact they've landed in a Super Mario 64 Nintendo game maybe kinda sorta a little bit cool. Until they get to Bowser.)
The story takes place near a major city, in the Elizabethan Age. One character is armed with a slingshot and a second has some duct tape. They are supposed to bathe a rude woman, but eventually get captured by their target instead.
Normally, Ava's Hale victim of choice is Alek.
He's her age, he's susceptible to her wiles and he hasn't told her no yet, which makes him very agreeable and she's not looking to replace him anytime soon. however, occasionally the rift thinks it has a better idea and decides to shake things up. She really wishes it wouldn't.
All the same, she wakes up lying on the ground, and when she tries to sit up quickly, she finds that particular range of movement very quickly limited by her wardrobe. She lets out a small yelp as she's forced back into a lying down position. "I've fallen and I can't get up."
A beat.
"I can't believe I just said that."
She tips her head up just slightly, trying to get a look at what exactly she's wearing, and groans when she sees that a corset is involved. It always has to be corsets. "Okay, who told the rift it was okay to make these kinds of fashion choices?" Because she sure as hell didn't.
She makes a few more attempts at repositioning her arms to get herself off the ground, but eventually she falls back with a huff. Her head falls to the side and she lays eyes on a familiar face. Not her usual familiar face, but familiar all the same.
"Connor!" She smacks her hand down against the ground next to him. "Connor! Please don't be dead!"
Before Chicago, Bo never really saw herself as a club girl.
Sure, she liked them. They were a good place to find a quick feed, and the sexual energy in a rave is usually off the charts. Fae don't get stoned, at least not like normal people do, but a succubus in a crowd of writhing, grinding humans ... it's probably as close as she'll ever get. She can wind her way into the middle of them, brushing off one or two here and there, and the contact alone is enough to leave her floating. Ever since falling through the rift, it's been something to do, something that isn't dealing with the locals or getting attacked by monsters.
Or being alone.
Tonight, however, she's on a case of sorts. Being a PI isn't really the same without Kenzi, but it's a job and people are willing to pay her under the table and not ask too many questions. And she is good at it. For the most part.
Tonight she's tracked her target - some sleazy dirt bag of a cheating husband - to this club in particular. Keeping him within eye range without getting too close is going to be a challenge, but for right now he's out in the open enough that she can lounge at the bar and wait it out.
And hope that the dancing masses of Chicago don't distract her first.
This is especially true of Rakshashas and Archangels. The bloodlust that courses through their veins is often much too strong to ignore. They were built to kill each other. They were made to spill each other's blood. Black is black and white is white and never the twain shall meet. Julian and Paz have always known how this was to end. One day, maybe not too far from today, one of them will kill the other. A noble death, to be sure, for there may be no love lost between them but after years of knowing each other, there is at least some sense of respect.
There is, however, one day out of the year.
Just one day out of the year where they place aside their differences. Where she is not simply demonio and he is not the Angel that leads the rest. It's just a girl from Chile and a man from Colombia sitting down to have drinks.
From the outside, one would almost think they are friends.
In any case, Julian is already sitting at their table nursing a scotch. He's a punctual motherfucker.
In an alternate universe where the world did not end and Chicago stands as intact as it will ever be, Charlie Wellman and Lena Austen continue on being best friends as usual. This means that Lena frequently needles herself into Charlie's life, sometimes with warning and sometimes without. This is one of those occasions in which she has definitely given Charlie warning, mostly so he can't back out on it.
She supposes she can't exactly call it a 'girls night' because Charlie is not a girl, but the sentiment is somewhat similar. Her awesome boyfriend Lucky is busy tonight with work and she's got the hours freed up, so she grabs the best DVDs in her possession and makes her way over to Charlie's apartment.
Food and drinks are also part of this equation.
"I brought waffles and pancakes," she informs him ceremoniously once he opens the door for her and she invites herself in.
He should be very grateful that she thought to consider such a lowly alternative.
The problem with Rifts (one of them) is they're highly unpredictable.
Stepping through one with another person (several of them) does not guarantee you will end up with them on the other side. This is what happened with Elena. One minute she's screaming at Damon to stop as he presses further down the gas pedal and the next she's somewhere else altogether. There's a gut-wrenching realization she was not able to keep her promise to Jeremy, much like she was not able to keep her promise to Martha. She didn't even get to keep her promise to Damon, after what he and Stefan lost -- each other -- until there is nothing left. She is a gallery of broken promises, and they stick to her chest as she finds herself yet again in another world, plunging headfirst into rough waters.
This is familiar, in all the ways in which it is not.
It is not a kind world, specifically the island the waves lead her to called the Hollow. She wakes with the burning sun at her back and a boy with sunken eyes greeting her. It is an island of orphaned children and the promise of no answers; an island that plays tricks on you while it feeds from what you feel. Chicago seems like a friendly ally in comparison, and more than that, it had been home. Elena is there for a month, a blur of hollowgasts and myths and the all too persistent reminder of death before a rift sucks her back in and spits her back out.
She doesn't know it yet, but she's in a small town in Maine, closer to what she had been used to.
The asphalt of the street scrapes her bare knees as she barrels forward, palms spread out to brace herself upon impact. Her hair is disheveled, and her shirt torn at the sleeve. Elena has seen better days, but she has survived.
Mary Jane lifts up her handcuffed hands and tugs at the metal with her dainty, pale wrists. She happens to think a big mistake has been made. Of course, Don Flack wasn't the one to detain her, but seeing as how he is the head of the Wanderer Police Force, they have him dealing with her because she was putting up a fuss and yelling about the great injustice taking place. She might as well be Jean Val Jean, except she didn't even steal a loaf of bread!
It's simply not her fault she was at the wrong place at the wrong time.
Mary Jane attracts trouble like a magnet. She is always at the wrong place at the wrong time.
At least he's cute. He should at least be cute if he is going to arrest her.
Is she arrested? At least this isn't her world. This would not do wonders for her nonexistent career.
She's not nervous because she can't remember the last time she went on a date. She's nervous because ... she can't remember the last time she went on a date. Add to the fact that that date probably wouldn't be one that she ... actually went on and she thinks she's rather justified in her nervousness right now.
Still, part of her knows that it's just Nathan. Her partner. Her best friend. She could try and think of this as being just like any other night but it's not. It's more than that. This could actually go somewhere, and she can't decide if she's ready for that. At the same time, she really wants to find out.
She places the wine glasses down on the table, adjusting the place settings one last time before glancing to the door. It's almost seven. Nathan will be here soon enough.
Maybe you should worry about not burning the pancakes, Audrey.
Thanksgiving is a sacred holiday where Buffy is concerned.
Whereas Sam would like to avoid holidays altogether, by now he is firmly aware of the fact he cannot do so where the tiny Slayer is involved. And so, in a Chicago world that has not yet ended, Thanksgiving has once again reared its festive head. Buffy, as the resident Thanksgiving Nazi has decided to host the occasion once more, and Sam Winchester knows better than to skimp on the holiday, lest he want a disappointed girlfriend on his hands.
(Which he doesn't.)
So have a tall Moose wandering through the Kashtta halls in search of one Buffy Summers to inform her that --
"There's a turkey on the loose," he says half-breathlessly.
Yes, Buffy. The turkey they were all about to eat has come to life, and it is somewhere inside these walls. Have fun with that one.
The thing about rabbit holes, is that they strike when you least expect them to. In this particular instance, it's Halloween - or at least it is when they land. Bela suddenly finds herself dressed like Audrey Hepburn, cigarette holder and all, and they're standing on an empty suburban street. She isn't entirely sure what to expect from this particular trip out of Chicago, but she isn't sure she wants to stick around to find out either.
She glances around, trying to see if she can spot anything, before turning back to John with what should have been a frown. It turns into sputtering and laughter.
Whatever his costume is, it apparently amuses the crap out if her, so at least that's something.
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the thief pls
i'm jumping some stuff in bth but whatever
She wakes up, covered in her own blood and her clothes in tatters. She showers twice, scrubs the floor until the blood is gone and her skin blisters, then sits on her couch for what seems like an eternity before she finally picks up the phone and sends the message to Sam. She moves about the room with a restless energy, both aimless and pointed at the same time. There's no countdown clock sitting over her head. She's finally free.
(It doesn't escape her that contacting the person she is runs the risk of dragging her back in again, that he could cut her life just as short simply by answering the phone, but at least this time she would know what she was getting into.)
Once the message is sent she sits again, the scent of blood and bleach still lingering in the air, and she waits. She knows he's probably on his way, it's just a matter of when he gets here.
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omg that icon /shallow
lauren cohan is too pretty for this world
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related to our stelena thread because.
Not that most days in Haven aren't without their endlessness, but as far as her short term memory (which given what's she's slowly unraveling about her life, is clearly the better functioning one) is concerned? This is the one that takes the cake. This is the one that makes her want to do nothing but drink until she feels less like the weight of Haven is sitting on her shoulders.
Isn't it just really convenient that she happens to live above a bar?
She pulls up a stool in the Grey Gull after abandoning all vestiges of her day upstairs, including her jacket, badge, and gun. A few drinks in, and she's starting to think she should have left her shoes behind too. She wasn't entirely sure that Duke would actually care if she was barefoot in his bar, though knowing her luck that's when she would get Tetanus or step on a broken bottle or whatever else.
Maybe she should just buy the bottle and head back upstairs.
It's another drink as she ponders the merit of that particular train of thought when she's suddenly sidetracked by an unfamiliar face. There aren't too many of those in Haven - she would know, she used to be one of them. The last one she remembers seeing is the new bartender Duke found, Stefan. This is not Stefan. Not unless Stefan got affected by some kind of Trouble which changes gender which, while entirely possible, is an idea that's quickly dismissed when the stranger in question glances over Audrey without any hint of recognition.
Definitely new person then.
"I don't think I've seen you before." The "I don't think" should be entirely ignored because she knows she hasn't, but given how much alcohol she's had, there's still a chance that she may be wrong. After all, it has been a long day. "New in town?"
yes yes yes pls.
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someone new for alek / post-btr?
Attention to detail can be the thing that either saves your ass or gets you into trouble, especially with magic, so she's developed a habit of being very good at it. From spells to potions and everything in between she makes sure that things are precisely the way they're supposed to be. This also, on occasion, transfers to things like school and work. In this particular instance it's school. It's the new kid, the one who's wandered into a few of her classes and she has never seen him before.
In fact, she's never seen anything like him before. There's something ... off about his aura, a kind of fragmented glow that indicates he's linked to the moon somehow, but there are so many options. It's not even the glow that bothers her, it's the cracks in between, the fragments of light that seem almost as though they've been shoved somewhere that they don't belong.
(Which only makes her even more curious about him, to the point where she's almost stalking him. It's probably very annoying.)
All the same, her stalking isn't always the most careful, either. All it takes is a few wrong steps and she's stumbling forward into the back of her target, scattering papers and books everywhere as she does. She flops back onto the ground, looking rather stunned at this turn of events. She wasn't supposed to get caught.
"I am so sorry." She quickly scrambles onto her knees, trying to gather her papers together and make sure her notes aren't seen. "I can't believe I was so clumsy."
yes good c:
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This is something Rafe knows all too well. He knows Alexander well, and any best friend of Alexander's worth his salts would be aware of just how he feels about any and all academic endeavors. Rafe isn't all too thrilled with the place himself, but he does have a mother that's got daggers for eyes and a sharp knife for a tongue, and puts him in his place if he ever starts slacking. She's a loving mother, don't get him wrong, but she also doesn't let him get away with crap.
Rafe's not going to deny he is deathly afraid of her. Guevara women in general are a sight to behold when they're putting the fear of God into you.
He should've kept this fear of Mrs. Guevara in mind when he let Alexander talk him into cutting class. Rafe hadn't seen the harm in it at first, but seeing as how they've just fallen into their first official rabbit hole in the new universe they find themselves in, he's kind of re-thinking his initial stance on the whole thing.
"Last time I ever let you talk me into anything, man," Rafe says. (This is a lie. Alexander always has the ability to talk Rafe into a lot of things, and undoubtedly he'll do it again.
Besides, the fact they've landed in a Super Mario 64 Nintendo game maybe kinda sorta a little bit cool. Until they get to Bowser.)
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Normally, Ava's Hale victim of choice is Alek.
He's her age, he's susceptible to her wiles and he hasn't told her no yet, which makes him very agreeable and she's not looking to replace him anytime soon. however, occasionally the rift thinks it has a better idea and decides to shake things up. She really wishes it wouldn't.
All the same, she wakes up lying on the ground, and when she tries to sit up quickly, she finds that particular range of movement very quickly limited by her wardrobe. She lets out a small yelp as she's forced back into a lying down position. "I've fallen and I can't get up."
A beat.
"I can't believe I just said that."
She tips her head up just slightly, trying to get a look at what exactly she's wearing, and groans when she sees that a corset is involved. It always has to be corsets. "Okay, who told the rift it was okay to make these kinds of fashion choices?" Because she sure as hell didn't.
She makes a few more attempts at repositioning her arms to get herself off the ground, but eventually she falls back with a huff. Her head falls to the side and she lays eyes on a familiar face. Not her usual familiar face, but familiar all the same.
"Connor!" She smacks her hand down against the ground next to him. "Connor! Please don't be dead!"
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Sure, she liked them. They were a good place to find a quick feed, and the sexual energy in a rave is usually off the charts. Fae don't get stoned, at least not like normal people do, but a succubus in a crowd of writhing, grinding humans ... it's probably as close as she'll ever get. She can wind her way into the middle of them, brushing off one or two here and there, and the contact alone is enough to leave her floating. Ever since falling through the rift, it's been something to do, something that isn't dealing with the locals or getting attacked by monsters.
Or being alone.
Tonight, however, she's on a case of sorts. Being a PI isn't really the same without Kenzi, but it's a job and people are willing to pay her under the table and not ask too many questions. And she is good at it. For the most part.
Tonight she's tracked her target - some sleazy dirt bag of a cheating husband - to this club in particular. Keeping him within eye range without getting too close is going to be a challenge, but for right now he's out in the open enough that she can lounge at the bar and wait it out.
And hope that the dancing masses of Chicago don't distract her first.
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This is especially true of Rakshashas and Archangels. The bloodlust that courses through their veins is often much too strong to ignore. They were built to kill each other. They were made to spill each other's blood. Black is black and white is white and never the twain shall meet. Julian and Paz have always known how this was to end. One day, maybe not too far from today, one of them will kill the other. A noble death, to be sure, for there may be no love lost between them but after years of knowing each other, there is at least some sense of respect.
There is, however, one day out of the year.
Just one day out of the year where they place aside their differences. Where she is not simply demonio and he is not the Angel that leads the rest. It's just a girl from Chile and a man from Colombia sitting down to have drinks.
From the outside, one would almost think they are friends.
In any case, Julian is already sitting at their table nursing a scotch. He's a punctual motherfucker.
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She supposes she can't exactly call it a 'girls night' because Charlie is not a girl, but the sentiment is somewhat similar. Her awesome boyfriend Lucky is busy tonight with work and she's got the hours freed up, so she grabs the best DVDs in her possession and makes her way over to Charlie's apartment.
Food and drinks are also part of this equation.
"I brought waffles and pancakes," she informs him ceremoniously once he opens the door for her and she invites herself in.
He should be very grateful that she thought to consider such a lowly alternative.
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Stepping through one with another person (several of them) does not guarantee you will end up with them on the other side. This is what happened with Elena. One minute she's screaming at Damon to stop as he presses further down the gas pedal and the next she's somewhere else altogether. There's a gut-wrenching realization she was not able to keep her promise to Jeremy, much like she was not able to keep her promise to Martha. She didn't even get to keep her promise to Damon, after what he and Stefan lost -- each other -- until there is nothing left. She is a gallery of broken promises, and they stick to her chest as she finds herself yet again in another world, plunging headfirst into rough waters.
This is familiar, in all the ways in which it is not.
It is not a kind world, specifically the island the waves lead her to called the Hollow. She wakes with the burning sun at her back and a boy with sunken eyes greeting her. It is an island of orphaned children and the promise of no answers; an island that plays tricks on you while it feeds from what you feel. Chicago seems like a friendly ally in comparison, and more than that, it had been home. Elena is there for a month, a blur of hollowgasts and myths and the all too persistent reminder of death before a rift sucks her back in and spits her back out.
She doesn't know it yet, but she's in a small town in Maine, closer to what she had been used to.
The asphalt of the street scrapes her bare knees as she barrels forward, palms spread out to brace herself upon impact. Her hair is disheveled, and her shirt torn at the sleeve. Elena has seen better days, but she has survived.
As she always does.
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Mary Jane lifts up her handcuffed hands and tugs at the metal with her dainty, pale wrists. She happens to think a big mistake has been made. Of course, Don Flack wasn't the one to detain her, but seeing as how he is the head of the Wanderer Police Force, they have him dealing with her because she was putting up a fuss and yelling about the great injustice taking place. She might as well be Jean Val Jean, except she didn't even steal a loaf of bread!
It's simply not her fault she was at the wrong place at the wrong time.
Mary Jane attracts trouble like a magnet. She is always at the wrong place at the wrong time.
At least he's cute. He should at least be cute if he is going to arrest her.
Is she arrested? At least this isn't her world. This would not do wonders for her
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AU PANCAKES DATE BECAUSE .... BECAUSE
Still, part of her knows that it's just Nathan. Her partner. Her best friend. She could try and think of this as being just like any other night but it's not. It's more than that. This could actually go somewhere, and she can't decide if she's ready for that. At the same time, she really wants to find out.
She places the wine glasses down on the table, adjusting the place settings one last time before glancing to the door. It's almost seven. Nathan will be here soon enough.
Maybe you should worry about not burning the pancakes, Audrey.
THE CUTENESS.
ALL THE CUTENESS
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have i mentioned i love them? bc i love them.
they are the best /chinhands
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for the moose
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Whereas Sam would like to avoid holidays altogether, by now he is firmly aware of the fact he cannot do so where the tiny Slayer is involved. And so, in a Chicago world that has not yet ended, Thanksgiving has once again reared its festive head. Buffy, as the resident
Thanksgiving Nazihas decided to host the occasion once more, and Sam Winchester knows better than to skimp on the holiday, lest he want a disappointed girlfriend on his hands.(Which he doesn't.)
So have a tall Moose wandering through the Kashtta halls in search of one Buffy Summers to inform her that --
"There's a turkey on the loose," he says half-breathlessly.
Yes, Buffy. The turkey they were all about to eat has come to life, and it is somewhere inside these walls. Have fun with that one.
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She glances around, trying to see if she can spot anything, before turning back to John with what should have been a frown. It turns into sputtering and laughter.
Whatever his costume is, it apparently amuses the crap out if her, so at least that's something.
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