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Her Mother's Daughter [20 Dec 2006|06:09pm] [ mood | anxious ] All right, then. Dinner was eaten and the dishes washed and put away. The dog was fed. The garbage was taken out and the living room had been cleaned up a little. Because she just knew that her mother would psychically know that she wasn't keeping up with the housework if she made this call without those chores done. Because that was how Ma was. So...she could make the call now. If she could ever pick up the phone, that was. Mallory looked at the object on the table a little mistrustfully, as though it was a snake that might bite her if she picked it up too fast. Then she took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. This was stupid. It was just a phone, and it was just going to be her Ma on the other end. It was going to be fine. The number was punched in, a silent curse being aimed at long distance charges, and then the wait began. It wasn't bingo night, which meant it shouldn't ring more than three times. ( The Push-Me, Pull You ) Mallory hung up the phone with a quiet click, rubbed Tuffy's ears as the dog settled his head on the couch cushion. "Don't look at me like that," she grumbled, imagining that she saw censure in the animal's brown eyes. "I feel bad enough. And I'll be going home soon enough, just not now." She got up from the sofa, padded into the kitchen. "C'mon, mutt, I'll give you some extra table scraps as a treat. You've earned it." Note: The NPC of Althea Quinn was written by Tim reply

Winter Solstice Thread, Part 1 [20 Dec 2006|07:16pm] December 21st, 2010 was the longest night of the year and the official start of the winter season in the desert. Darkness arrived as early as it ever would, just as the corner of Sahara Avenue and Las Vegas Boulevard was coming alive. City planners had coordinated with local vendors to bring locals and tourists alike a Winter Solstice Celebration to remember. It was held outside, on an empty, paved lot across from the Sahara resort. This evening, however, all that open space was filled with the entertainment and the crowd. There were small stages set up at two corners, for a variety of live performances to include dancers and singers, local bands and comedians. In another corner of the lot, a small winter wonderland had been set up with fake snow and a rink brought in for ice skating, and the air was just cool enough to allow the ice a slower melt. The farthest corner of the lot featured a dug-out pit with the makings of a small bonfire. In the center of it all, there were vendors selling hot chocolate, coffee, eggnog, spirits, confectionaries and pizza and pretzels. Some had brought Vegas's typical fare... slot machines. Here and there, a few vendors played carols from small speakers. Periodically, bursts of fireworks dressed up the sky between neon-lit buildings. Everything was decked out in ice cycles and silver and blue. All sorts of people were in attendance, some of them not truly people at all. In the darkest corners, mischief lurked, and some of it spilled into the streets around the celebration. [Thread: Open to All] 168 comments | reply

Need Help [20 Dec 2006|09:29pm] [ mood | working ] As usual, Las Vegas was busy. People of all shapes and sizes wandering around oblivious to the fact that while they all look different, not everyone was human. Or fully human, as the case may be. With a wry sigh, Reverie counted herself as one of those and kept on walking. The strip was brightly lit like always. The neon lights pulling people off the street like insects. So many of them overwhelmed by the shiny exterior of the City that they overlooked the darkness that lay just beneath the surface. People tended to be blissfully ignorant. Devil knows Reverie was before the ordeal that happened to her. That ordeal that meant she was no longer fully human. Not that she often complained, it was in her nature to take things as positively as possible. Keep it all in her stride. A stride that was now guiding her through the crowds and mingling her with everyone else. Going no where in particular other than to just follow her feet. Not far behind was the laconic guitar playing werewolf known to his friends as simply Oz, carrying with him a small notebook. Protruding from between the pages were sticky tabs, a variety of colors with different dates labelled on each of them, some of them crossed out or folded over. Useless. The whole thing was confusing, and Oz wasn't sure if he was supposed to take the book as something real or not. It seemed too make-believe, even after all he'd been through in his life on the Hellmouth. Write someone's name down, picture them in your head, and they die? It was twisted, but he knew better than to ignore these things. Someone else would get their hands on the book, someone considerably less kind-hearted, and major trouble could go down. Which was why he was tailing Reverie, having been told if anyone would be able to help him, it'd be her. Able to hang back enough so as not to draw attention to himself, he was able to follow her on her scent alone now. ( Walking - Watching ) ( Game Plan. ) Rather than standing up, she stayed where she was and fingered the edge of the menu. The blonde deciding that before taking a nap she would fill her stomach with at least one of the things she needed every day. The other was fine for at least another day or two. "It would have been nice to meet you in different circumstances too, Oz. Though I'm sure after this we'll have plenty time for trying that." It was offered with a warm smile despite the cold fact that soon people could be dying if they didn't find them on time. And find the origins of that book. "See you tonight." "It's a date." His form of good-bye or see you later came in a nod, turning and making his way through the cafe towards the front. That had worked out better than he originally thought it would, having prepared himself for the worst just in case she hadn't wanted to take his case. There'd been no mention of compensating her for her time, and he wouldn't have blamed her if she turned him down because of it. He must've had a lucky streak going. Now, if only he could find where he parked his van. reply

The 8-Year Itch [20 Dec 2006|09:42pm] [Takes place prior to Winter Solstice] Whistler wrapped his arms around his chest, leaned back into the doorframe. He'd left five messages for Rhiannon over the course of the week. Babbled speeches that touched on every subject except their argument on the side of the highway. His mind tracked back to their blow-up. He knew Rhiannon far better than push for something she couldn't give. They'd shared one kiss... technically two, if you separated the first, softer buss from the more hungry moment shared shortly after. Something long-dormant stirred and wasn't going back into hibernation anytime soon. But that didn't mean Whistler wasn't curious as to where they stood. Or as was the case with the slayer now situated on his couch, sat. "Because I couldn't reach the top to hang a star, is why," he commented while staring at the Charlie Brown Christmas tree. Rhiannon, who straddled the arm of the couch, her fists beating an unconscious rhythm on the plush padding, looked on with doubt. “So you... Rolled it with gold toilet paper instead?” Had she been the type to look for a silver lining, she likely wouldn’t have found it in the spool of dollar-store, star-speckled ribbon that had been tossed over and around the tree like a drunk practical joke. She got up and went to stand next to Whistler. “What, you need a boost?” Rhiannon dropped her hands down low and locked her fingers together. “Come on, munchkin. I’m here for you.” ( A Beer Can For a Star ) ( Pictures of You ) ( The 8-Year Itch (Adult Content: Sexuality) ) ( Words ) reply

Phone Home [20 Dec 2006|10:32pm] Julie sat on the couch in her shared apartment above the bar and stared at the cordless phone sitting on the coffee table. When had she become so scared of a simple piece of technology? All she had to do was just pick up the phone and dial that ten digit number, and her mother or father would answer on the other end. But she just sat there, staring at the phone, paralyzed. She knew that her parents would probably welcome her back with open arms, but she was scared. What would she say? How could she explain what she had become? How would she explain what happened to Brad? She'd picked up the phone and set it back down what seemed like a hundred times already, but hadn't been able to punch in those digits that would let her speak with her family for the first time in years. The werewolf sighed in frustration and stood up to start pacing. "What's the matter with me?" Julie growled, walking back and forth in front of the table. "They'd want to know that I'm alive." That didn't make it any easier. Finally, Julie picked up the phone and entered the number with shaking fingers. It would be over either way in just a few minutes, she'd know if her family would still welcome her or if she were on her own for good. One ring...two rings....three rings....and the phone was picked up on the other end. "Hello?" A familiar voice came through the line, "Hello, is someone there?" "Mom...it's Julie..." reply

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