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Another Place, Another Time [22 Oct 2009|08:29pm] AU or Canon: AU Location: Florida Date: October 2018 Notes: Considered AU because it makes vague mention of characters whose permissions we don't own. No liberties were intended to be taken. ( Ocean View ) Eye for an Eye

Life (Darian's Epilogue) [19 Jul 2009|01:18am] ( Four in the Morning ) Eye for an Eye

News of the World [09 Jul 2009|04:22pm] ( Talking to Grace: Fatherhood and Deanna ) Eye for an Eye

Struck Dumb [30 Jun 2009|04:10pm] The apartment was silent but for the tick of a solitary clock. Each strike of the second hand thundered. Each space between, as soundless as the vacuum of space. Two figures squared off against one another. The man stood by the window, his spine as rigid as a pole, his back to the sun. The woman, who had paused her pacing to examine a fingernail, began once again. Her heels clicked as rhythmically as the time. Perhaps it was Darian's imagination, but the wall-mounted clock seemed to move at a crawl. He checked his watch, in case the batteries had gone bad. No such luck. He made an abrupt departure to the wet bar and poured himself a drink. He thought about offering her one, but didn't. After the last heated argument, the Dealmaker didn't know what to say to her. He found himself at a loss. Each time he opened his mouth, an unwise sentence leaped onto his tongue. Sooner or later, he'd provoke Bethany into a knock-down, drag-out, physical fight, if he didn't reign in his temper. He rubbed his mouth to keep it shut. She pivoted and a tiny fleck of dirt ground against the floor. His body tensed. It felt like a two-hundred pound person was standing on each of his shoulders. Darian pinched the bridge of his nose. He tried to swallow the complaint, but it boiled up anyway. "Bethany? The only thing worse than the sound of that clock... is the pacing. Could you stand still for two minutes?" ( Placing Blame ) ( Pinch Them, They're Dreaming ) Eye for an Eye

Mismatched [16 Jun 2009|04:47pm] Bethany had a habit of going as deep into enemy territory as she could get away with, confident in her own abilities and quick thinking to keep her alive. They were one Inquisitor down, this she knew, but she was not as fragile as the rest of them, given the super strength and the super healing that came as part and parcel of her being a Slayer, the only Slayer in her world, but not in this world apparently. She'd not really gone looking for her doppelganger, but it had sort of fallen into her lap when she'd happened across a business establishment in which women removed their clothing for money. It was a mind-boggling concept and she'd certainly caused something of a scene when she'd dragged a half-naked girl off the stage, only to be confronted by a man who called himself Ralphael and seemed to think she was her other self. Bethany had allowed him to think of her that way, brushing off a few questions about her appearance and lack of scarring on her face, meaning she was able to gleam information about her other self's habits, which apparently included seeing on a regular basis a man of demonic nature. How very... repulsive. ( The Disgusting Man With Whom Bethany Sleeps ) ***** ( Text to Bethany ) Eye for an Eye

I Beg Your Pardon, Sir? (With Inquisitor Reilly) [04 Jun 2009|06:26pm] Town Pointe was a supper club with wall-to-wall windows overlooking the lake and a wrap-around terrace. Inside, oil paintings hung on walls covered , and thin silk paper. A pianist played unobtrusive jazz in a corner. The air smelled of eucalyptus and cigars, and the waitstaff wore vests and bow ties. During the evenings, only members were allowed to dine there, but it was open to the public on the lunch hour and catered to some of Chicago's successful businessmen and women. Darian went to talk about real estate investments. He kept his business above board, meaning he didn't embroil anyone in off-color deals that might wind up getting them bludgeoned. It was too high profile. After a course of surf and turf, he got up and went to the bar. He didn't like pianos. He hated jazz. It rambled on like a classless drunk that didn't know when to make an exit. He stood with his elbow on the bar, giving the pianist an openly annoyed look. Once, during the soup course at a London dinner party, he had excused himself, pulled the strings from a harp, and wrapped them around the musician's throat. To his credit, it didn't kill the woman, though it left one hell of an impression. Connor wasn't too wild about jazz either, but the sequestered nature of Town Pointe was soothing his aggravation into something manageable. Temporary quarters had been found and secured for himself and his colleagues, but he was still badly out of sorts about the botched raid. His next step after a late lunch was to acquire some reliable maps and plot out the next course of action for their fighters. He disliked this world very much, what little he'd seen of it. The pollution, the noise, the people. Dear God in His heaven, the people. He was currently standing at the bar, his suit and tie marking him as a young banker or stockbroker, provided one never looked at his eyes, which were too calculating, too direct. He'd had tea with his lunch of shrimp and salad, and was now sipping from a short glass of burgundy. He seldom drank intoxicants, needing his wits about him since he was usually in the field, but one glass of wine was perfectly acceptable. And this atmosphere was much better than the barely-controlled chaos he'd encountered in the previous establishment. Connor liked order, it was why he'd joined the Inquisition in the first place. ( Minding the Tails ) ( Mongrels, the Lot of Them ) Eye for an Eye

Lady Sunday Morning [17 May 2009|07:03pm] ( Sunday Morning With Bethany (Adult Content) ) Eye for an Eye

A Person in Common [10 May 2009|06:23pm] It was one of those nights that was just busy enough but not too busy that the staff couldn't handle it. Usually, the crowds on nights like this were docile enough, men warned off touching the staff by a look or a stern word. Today, there was a drunk party of six in, some kind of bachelor party - a tradition Jessica could not quite grasp considering marriage was still a rather alien concept to her - and they were loud, obnoxious and didn't seem to understand the words 'no' and 'touching'. She had been over twice, another guard over once. The dancer on the stage was moving with the beat, all hips twisting seductively and finger trailing between her breasts to warm up the crowd before she took to the pole. The men were only human, Jessica supposed, they couldn't be blamed for wanting to touch something so blatantly flaunting its assets. ( Mangling the Groom ) ( An Accomplished Girl ) Eye for an Eye

Amateur Ambulance Ride [19 Apr 2009|08:58pm] ( Picking Up Grace After Her Fight ) Eye for an Eye

Tender Fireside Poetry? [27 Mar 2009|06:50pm] [Takes place at end of Personality Switch plot] The Slayer had spent at least ten to fifteen minutes staring at her phone after the somewhat... disturbing voicemail from her partner had finished. Several thoughts went through her head: "What the hell was he on?" - "We go much longer without talking" - "Is he unwell?" and finally but not at all least, "He's wearing my t-shirt... has he started cross-dressing?" Sufficed to say the Slayer was both confused and concerned, wondering what could have happened to Darian to make him sound like some sort of emo-horrific teenager? Deciding that she was going to get to the bottom of this Bethany pulled on a jacket and slipped her feet into her heels, picking the keys up from Ralphael on the way out of the door. She didn't even bother stopping to answer his questioning gaze. It didn't take her very long to arrive at the Dealmaker's apartment and with a few decisive strides she came to a smooth stop in front of his door, rapping her knuckles against the door. Hopefully he was in and hadn't gone out in his condition, whatever that condition was. ( I am alone; I am utterly alone ) Eye for an Eye

Voicemail for Bethany [17 Mar 2009|12:17am] ( Nobody Says It Like Foreigner ) Eye for an Eye

Basket Case [07 Mar 2009|10:56pm] [From Personality Switch Plot] Juliet sipped at her hot chocolate, her hands wrapped around the take-away cup. That alone amused her a little. Normally she didn't like the cardboard, preferred the firm lip of a proper mug, or even one of those travel ones she would get if she didn't have time to sit down and drink it. But today she didn't really care. It was weird, but she really didn't care about that either. Her fingers felt the sleeve of the leather jacket, the soft texture showing the quality and she folded the lapel back to take a look at the lining. She'd torn the one she'd been wearing out on patrol a few night's earlier, Rhiannon's comment that the 'job' was a bitch when it came to clothes being proven right again. Normally Juliet would have had the jacket to the tailor the family had used for things like this for decades, but she'd not had time and now couldn't be bothered. "Can I help you Miss Winters?" the shop assistant had asked when Juliet first entered the store. "Just checking out your coats," Juliet had answered nonchalantly which had caused the briefest of blinks from the assistant. Normally the young Winters would state exactly what she was after, describing it and the size with a clear, decisive voice. "Certainly," the assistant had replied and led the young heiress across to the rack, being waved away eventually as Juliet had started to browse. "There are also some in the window if you would like me to get those for you," he'd said. "No, it's fine, I can take a look at them there," Juliet had replied, waving the assistant away. ( Deep, Wounded Thoughts of Tragedy and Isolation ) Eye for an Eye

Like Them [28 Feb 2009|09:51pm] The building looked completely innocuous from the outside, just some place that had been remodeled in the last few months to make it fit for business. Even the cars outside looked perfectly normal, the people exiting them to go inside people who could have been from anywhere. Connor sat astride his motorcycle watching them as they passed by, mentally debating whether or not he was going to move. The night was cold, his breath visible on the breeze. He supposed he shouldn't go in there. Then again... It was hard to admit it to himself, but he kind of liked it. The competition of it, striving to win, to prove himself. To be found as worthy, no matter how fleetingly. And at least he was taking his frustrations out on someone who could fight back fairly. The Destroyer chuffed softly, unfastened the strap of his helmet. Fuck it, he was going, since he'd already come all this way. Might as well take those last few steps. The interior of the former factory was warm, and Connor quickly removed his jacket as he passed a few soon-to-be spectators who were already gathered at the betting kiosk. He recognized a couple of them vaguely, didn't acknowledge them as he moved to where the ring stood. He could go look for Phillip in a minute. Would his opponent tonight be demon or human? 'Don't fight demons, Connor, not unless you have to'. ( Feeling Compelled ) Eye for an Eye

The Couple [27 Jan 2009|10:45pm] When the Chicago Theatre sold its first tickets in 1921, it was christened the 'Wonder Theatre of the World'. Its exterior architecture was done in the French Baroque style, its lobby and auditorium designed with Parisian elegance, and those timeless elements made it the envy of, and eventual model for, other American theatres. There were promenades and balconies with gold accents, seats draped in burgundy fabric, murals painted above the stage and on a domed ceiling. Much of that magnificence remained to 2014, the funds for revitalization provided by generous donors and creative fundraising. Through every season, the theatre could be counted upon to host fine performers from an international talent pool. There were productions for small children, vocalists, orchestras, comedians, and actors traveling from New York to give the Midwest a taste of Broadway. With January nearly at an end, seasonal performances had given way. A dance company was on the calendar of events; it had not originally been scheduled for Chicago, but problems with a venue resulted in cancellations in another city. Darian placed his palm on Bethany's back and guided her past a pair of balcony seats. Before them was a view of the mezzanine and main floor, the seats rapidly filling with a finely dressed crowd. He could hear the strains of string instruments tuning in the orchestra pit. Heavy curtains obscured the stage where dancers would find their marks in moments. He, dressed in a crisp black suit and white shirt, put his mouth behind the blonde's ear. "You're radiant." Bethany smiled at the touch of Darian's lips to her ear, lips that happened to be a perfect shade of red to compliment the black slip of a dress she was wearing. It left very little to the imagination and she screamed wealth with the adornment of jewelery around her neck, wrists and in her ears. "And you look good enough to eat," she threw back with a devilish look. "Maybe later." She winked and with it came a long scattering of lashes that briefly lingered on her cheeks. ( They Stood Out From the Others ) ( An After-Party for Four ) Eye for an Eye

No Ordinary Appetite [20 Jan 2009|01:55am] As early evening approached, so, too, did other things. Even in this age of industrialisation and robotics, natural landscapes could still hold a certain wonder, even to those eyes originating from somewhere beyond this world. Lake Michigan, for one, could almost be mistaken for an ocean, were one to find themselves without a map and, while the sun had not quite set, it was now nearing the end of its long journey to the other end of the horizon. Soon would come twilight and then nothing more than artificial light projected into the eventual night's sky. It was at times like these, that certain nocturnal visitations might come to be known. The odd boat, here and there, making its way up the Chicago River, for example. One such cruiser doing so now, although with something else following in its wake... Something most would not see, appearing to glide smoothly under the water's surface, following, rather than chasing the vehicle. As natural light would start to dim, then so would human perception. Or just possibly, this particular shape chose the activity as a deliberate game; testing, toying, to see what could pass unnoticed, for no other reason than that of experimental amusement. This, though, was no mermaid. An upper torso shaped like that of a woman's, yes, but no fish's tail had she. Instead, a finless serpent's trunk, allowing its owner to propel herself forward, torpedo-like, as with any giant snake in the Amazon. From one boat, she weaved to the other, following, submerging, diving, like some river-bound seal or dolphin. It was in one of those rare moments, when the top of head broke water, glancing around above the surface, that her direction changed. Not so much for a further game of chase and bait, but for the river's bank. A wake of her own being generated behind slender form, with every swift, almost crocodilian movement through the medium of fluid. There, once having reached sufficiently close, she paused. Still only with head above the surface, but now with entire face visible. A face with a smile. "I remember spying you in the festivities," the snake-maiden called. "Fortune enchants its own, I see..." ( The Guardian ) ( An Unexpected Delicacy ) ( The Strangulation of an Iron Glove ) Eye for an Eye

New Year's Eve Threads [04 Jan 2009|08:35pm] http://asylums.insanejournal.com/city_limits/151858.html http://asylums.insanejournal.com/city_limits/153507.html Eye for an Eye

[26 Nov 2008|03:21pm] Text to Bethany: "I cannot believe you stood me up for prom. -D" Eye for an Eye

[20 Nov 2008|09:10pm] Ferris Bueller Plot: Morning Thread- http://asylums.insanejournal.com/city_limits/116079.html Eye for an Eye

Texting Beth [17 Nov 2008|10:05am] http://asylums.insanejournal.com/city_limits/113013.html Eye for an Eye

Just a Suggestion [16 Nov 2008|05:25pm] It had been another busy night, filled with off duty cops (they gave Joseph the creeps) and relieved fire-fighters. All of them had spent their time drinking and regaling one another with their stories of death defying stunts and heroic antics, all of which sounded impressive to the average person. Joseph held his tongue on more than one occasion, especially when they had talked about people like him, law breakers and gangsters. He should have known it would be difficult, being who he was and working in the bar. Pat was great, no doubt about that, but Joseph, he just didn't fit. Thankfully the evening had wound down, and as it did people left to make their way home to their ever loving wives and families, shouting a few goodbyes to Joseph as they left. It was as the last person left that Joseph sagged against the counter and dropped his head, blowing out a long breath and closing his eyes. The longer he spent working behind this bar the more he itched for something more, a little excitement, the sort that had never failed to make his heart race. He pushed away from the bar and slid his hair back, turning to open the side of the bar so he could walk the length of the it, collecting glasses that all needed to be washed before Joseph could head home. He might not have felt passionately about this job but he never did anything half-assed so he was going to do things properly. There was still some time left on his shift and Joseph glanced at the door, relieved that nobody had come in just yet, but somebody would; they always did. He turned on his heel and headed back behind bar, placing glasses on the side before he meticulously picked his way along the surface. Urgh, some people were such pigs. If a breeze hadn’t come into the warm pub, ushering two dry leaves onto the entry mat, Darian’s entrance would’ve been noiseless. He stayed at the door for minute, having a look at the Smoke Eater’s Tavern. It wasn’t his type of venue; the wood floors and seats covered in green leather were well cared for, but instead of art, fire and rescue paraphernalia decorated the walls. It was not as excessively done as a modern chain restaurant like Appleby’s, but he didn’t appreciate the concept of tacking turnout gear, helmets, and state police badges to the walls. But he wanted a drink, and the bar down the street that normally received his patronage was closed for renovations. Darian pulled off gloves and tucked them in the pocket of his overcoat. “What time do you close?” He took a couple of steps into the place; the shine on his shoes outdid the polish on the floor. Joseph didn’t strike any chords of familiarity with the Dealmaker. They might’ve circled the same places in the desert, but he didn’t know it. Joseph's sharp hearing picked up on the light rustling of leaves and his head lifted, resting dark eyes on the tall man that had just entered. He looked somewhat out of place in a venue like this, he looked like the sort of man who might frequent a more classy place without the touch of nostalgia and family pride to it. "In an hour," Joseph answered. He removed the cloth from where he had been polishing the bar and rested it on the counter behind him. "What can I get you?" ( Out of Place ) Eye for an Eye

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