Elyse felt alone.  She wasn't alone, and if she really thought about it, the word alone really didn't fit either.  Sierra had left, and Elyse was with Marta, Ricky, and the wolves, but for some reason she didn't feel right.  Perhaps it was because of giving Sierra that kiss before she left.  She still wasn't sure if she had been right to do so or not, and mostly she felt stupid.  She had told Ricky, Marta, and Stinging Nose that she had needed some time to herself that night, and they had understood.

Elyse walked through Moscow, just letting her feet take her wherever they wanted to a go.  She opened a door and found herself at a bar, ordering herself a Manhattan.  The drink came and she took a long sip.  Music from the club came from behind her, but Elyse looked at the antique bottles behind the bar and ordered another drink as she finished her first one.  This time she turned around to face the other end of the club. It was then she had realized that she had not just wandered into any club.  She had wandered into Kallisti House of Burlesque.

Heya all,

I'm trying to get back into this and looking for anyone wanting to write.  I have several characters available.  I don't think it's a good idea for me to go into an already established thread, as I'm still pretty slow to respond (mostly due to personally struggling with my own writing) and I don't want so slow down anyone's story telling.

Here is who I have available.

Gio - He's in Africa - I don't think I'm ready to get into his mindset right now, but would be willing to try with someone patient.
Anton - my sentient
Calvin - Wolfbro - CCPD Monster Squad
Elyse - Wolfsis
Emily Shale/Jared Vanders - these two will likely come as a set
Enrique - Atharim with an adopted wolfsis daughter
Pyotr - Not sure I'm in his mindset either

If you're interested in any of the above - reply here and maybe we can set something up.  I'll be honest, I have very little faith in my own writing ability right now, but I'll try.

The Person Above Me -
So whoever posts next will answer the following about me. 

what you imagine the person would be arrested for,

what's in the person's pocket,

say what the person was voted "most likely to" do, 

what you would say if you woke up in bed beside the person.

Meeting with the Yakuzu hadn't been easy.  It had taken many hoops to go through, but tonight was the night.  Tonight The Syndicate would host a part inside Yakuzu territory as a show of good faith.  It wasn't the typical event that the Syndicate hosted - it wasn't some fancy party it wasn't wine and dinner and lots of money.  Instead it was catering to the people.  It wasn't about showing off their poweress.  it was about trusting the people she wanted to work with.  The Yakuzu had connections, Yun wanted them.  It was that simple and to get them she had to play by their rules.

So instead of a fancy dinner.  It was a street festival.  Canopies were set up along the side of a road, the entire road was cordoned off from traffic by some of the Syndicate officers.  Of which Sarkozy was a plain clothed officer keeping the peace at her request.  She of course had other men wandering the streets.

It was one large block party and she and the leaders of the Yakuzu sat at the end of one street in a makeshift pavillion.  Pillows and overstuffed chairs were brought out in multitudes of colors and the citizens of the Yakuzu's territory dropped off treates and gifts for their bosses.  Yun watched in awe the lack of fear around her, these people beleived they were being taken care of by the men at her side.  Also part of the things she wanted.  Though the Syndicate wasn't about followers, it was about getting the job done and using whoever you needed to do it.

It was early yet, but the streets were full.  The Syndicate was in place, but it was the Yakuzu's show.

It had snowed in the night. Even this early the main paths were clear, of course, but it clung to the architecture like the whole city had been dipped in ice. Early morning traffic threaded the same routes as she, and passers-by were polite to an Accepted of the Tower. Nythadri saw it all, but she paid little attention. She’d run through her schedule during a fleeting breakfast, calculated how much time she could feasibly spend in the city before she had to return to the Tower, and was dismayed. Not enough, was the answer, but it would have to do – because there was so much to see to.

She’d slept well, but only for the short time she had slept; not that any trace of fatigue dusted her countenance. Her skin was at its porcelain element in the soft blanket of winter, her eyes sharp and focused. Her hair was braided back neatly away from her face, the rest pooling glossy black waves in her hood, and her dress and cloak fell in simple clean lines, as unbroken and smooth as the snows. She was immaculate; purposefully so. It armoured her for what was to come.

The morning passed in a flurry of paperwork, inked signatures and formality. She impatiently refused refreshment, and sat stiff and regal on the edge of her chair. Her eyes bore holes as she watched the clerk scratch out the details on headed paper, but her thoughts were elsewhere. Her chest was tight, conflicted. Each thump was loud in her chest, surging hot blood through her veins. A call to arms; she felt it keenly. Because she knew she could let the bank sort the transfer of coin; they had her signature and would not wish her to be bothered by details and tasks they could perform on her behalf. If Jai wanted her removed from the situation, it was the most compliant action she could take to see his wishes met. To disappear without even crossing the Kojima’s door.

But for the defiant thrum of her pulse, she would have agreed to it without a second thought. The money was inconsequential; she did not care where it was housed, and regretted that it had caused so much bloody complication. The problem was one of impotence. The problem was one of pride. The problem was one of loyalty. He crossed the Tower, Jai. She wondered if it had dawned on him yet; the consequences of what he had told her and the predicament it held for her.

Soon it was done; another account opened, in a smaller establishment this time, though a holding account only. She was careful to explain that her father would be travelling to Tar Valon soon, whereupon he would arrange for the coin’s return to Andor. She neglected to mention that the letter explaining this to her father was still sitting in an envelope in the satchel perched neatly at her feet. For the inconvenience she offered generous recompense. They did not ask questions, and they offered to take care of the transfer for her.

After a beat, she refused.

When she reached the Kojima’s bank her chest was still burning with the vicious instinct that urged her to confront Zakar directly. Only she was not so sure, that in doing so, if she would be listening to the impulse that made her so adept at the Great Game, or something more primal, more reckless. What if Zakar refused her request? Could he refuse her? The sensible thing would be to proceed as quietly as possible; she did not need Zakar’s approval to withdraw the account, thus could do so without him knowing until too late. Light, she did not even need to be here in person; notaries had seen to the paperwork, had assured her the transfer would be seamless. She could still go back, let them deal with it. Her account would withdraw like a ghost, buried amongst the stacks of the bank’s other daily business. Only Zakar might note her name on the reports that passed his desk, but she would just be another of his brother’s whores; one who had apparently gotten what she wanted, or not, and had moved on. With any luck he would remove her name from his list in the same breath, and it would be over. Exactly as it should be.

But it didn’t sit easily.

Nythadri struggled with the powerlessness, with the injustice. She thought of a mother’s worry and an unfinished portrait, with no one to know the sacrifice Jai had made but her. A sacrifice he might not have had to make but for the fact she had taken the money to the Kojimas in the first place. She thought of a man who loved his family enough to be that sacrifice, to be it willingly for no other gain but peace – and even that a peace to be lived through others. She thought of the demons that chased his heels, the storms that darkened his face, the humanity he feared lost. And those thoughts pulled her across the threshold.

She knew exactly why she had come here; knew too that the flames she played with now might do more than simply scald her.

But Zakar would not walk away unscathed.

Her expression was free of the emotions that compelled her as she was greeted at the door; it was plainly neutral, without customary ice or unusual warmth – nor much of anything one would not expect upon the face of any Accepted of the White Tower. A different mask from the usual. Unremarkable. Pale eyes scanned the foyer but didn’t linger beyond a casually interested glance. The fire in her dimmed, temporarily satiated; if she was making a mistake, at least it was an intentional one. A necessary one. This was to be the simple part, anyway, getting the account withdrawn and transferred. Her gaze clapped back on the man who had greeted her; he asked what she required, if she had an appointment - she did not - and directed her to a seat where she might wait. Nythadri did as bid.

Kiriena stepped into Igor's bookstore and took in a deep breath.  The smell of used bookstores was always one that made her feel at home.  It was a different smell from the plant life she was used to, but still, reading was a hobby that she sometimes didn't get a chance to pursue as much anymore now that she had a business.

Igor's was a favorite.  It was a used bookstore, so it often had treasures that you couldn't find at more modern shops.  Of course, reading had mostly gone to digital, but many still loved the feeling of a real book.  Kiriena smiled at Igor, a tall man with gray hair and glasses, and he gave her a smile and a nod in welcome.

"Good to see you Ms. Blum," the proprieter said politely. "Are you looking for anything in particular today?"

Kiriena smiled. "Not today," she responded. "I'm just here for the hunt."

Igor returned her smile with one of his own as he adjusted his glasses. [b]"Of course. If I can be of any assistance, please let me know."[/color]

Kiriena thanked him and made her way to the gardening and botany books.  It was where she always started. She looked and saw mostly the same types of titles she had seen since college.  Many were in her personal collection at the shop, but she still looked.  Her fingers went along the spines of the books, checking the titles for anything she didn't have that she might be interested in.  As her eyes ran though titles, she almost passed by one book.  Had she not been looking closely, she might not have noticed it.  The green cover seemed to blend in with it's surroundings.

Curiously, Kiriena pulled the book out.  The cover and spine had no title, and the book itself was a leafy green dyed leather.  The artistry on the cover made the book look like interlocking leaves and Kiriena had to admit that it was pretty to look at.  Kiriena had never seen this book in her life and her curiosity compelled her to open it.  Inside, she found that she didn't recognize the words.  The book itself was in a foreign language that she did not recognize, but it contained many drawings of different plants.  She could identify many of these plants.  Like the cover, the drawings were exceptional artwork.  Kiriena found a price, and it was pretty cheap.  She shrugged and held on to the book as she continued throughout the store.

Continued from The Brutal Reality with @"Ivan Sarkozy" and @"Lih"

The tunnels had been suffocating and dark.  The pain had been overwhelming.  There was very little blood loss thanks to the searing pain, but that didn't mean it had been rainbows and flowers.  Nox didn't really remember much after getting bitten.  It was all a bunch of hazy memories.  But mostly the blinding panic of becoming one of those things.  A hell of a way to go.

And when Nox opened his eyes everything was blurry.  The sounds of machines beeping and the clean smell told him once again he was in the hospital.  Another stupid mistake landing him in a room where his identity was best kept a secret.  But Ivan and Lih probably hadn't thought about that.  Not that it mattered either way.  He was already an enemy of the Atharim.  He was surprised they hadn't tried again.

There was no one there.  Not that Nox expected anyone to be there when he woke up.  Everyone he know had lives and families and Nova wouldn't be allowed inside.  Even if he had survived.  Nox remembered the blur of fur and flesh saving him from one of the creatures just before the one that bit him latched on.

Everything hurt.  He was starving, in a way he hadn't ever felt before. Nox tried to move but found the loss of the left arm and he stared at the bandage wrapped around it.  Fuck!  At least his allegiance to the Atharim went with it.  But now hunting was going to be limited.  Fuck getting dressed was going to be limited.  Nox growled in frustration.

A nurse passing by looked in and Nox gave her a smile.  But she didn't stop, hurried on past.  She was cute.  He wondered if his nurse was cute.  The last one had been when he was in the hospital last.

Shortly after the first one walked by another one came in with a smile, "Mr. Durante, it's good to see you awake.  How are you feeling?"

"Ravenous."  She looked at him a little concerned.  "And it hurts all over."

"That was some damage done to your arm.  Do you know what happened?"

Nox nodded.  "I had my friend cut it off."  

She laughed like it was a joke, but it wasn't.  Her face fell flat.  "Why?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you."  Nox squirmed to try to sit up and the nurse helped Nox readjust and Nox refrained from the urge to growl at her for her assistance. "I need to get word to the Ascendancy and whoever the fuck my boss is.  No one has touched my blood have they?"

"We drew some when you came in."

Nox growled loudly.  "You need to stop now.  It might not be safe.  I was bitten by a creature that from my assumption propagates the same way a chubacabra does, and I don't know if we cut off the bite before it spread to the rest of my body.  So from this point forward you need to treat this as a case of biological warfare.  Someone is making these things and I don't think I've stopped them."

She nodded and slowly headed for the door  "I'll go see about finding you a doctor."

Nox laughed.  "I told you, you wouldn't believe me.  Can I have my wallet?"

She sighed and went to the closet and rummaged through a black plastic bag.  She found my wallet and brought it to me.  And she left quickly.

Nox didn't really have any idea of how to really contact the Ascendancy.  He'd believe him.  The only thing Nox had was the number that had asked him to meet.  So he sent a text.

Quote:Need contact update. Got bit by a chupacabra like creature, so far with severed arm, symptoms are nil, but unknown time lapse occurred. Blood drawn - possible epidemic if not cleared of parasite.  Please assist. Likely going to psyche ward.

Quote:I'm not dead.  Probably wished I was though.  Went hunting, got hurt, woke up in the hospital.  Will send you details soon as I get them.

Morning was early in the pack.  The sun rose and the earth dried out from the night's cooling dew.  The hunt was on.  It was a normal morning for Sierra - except for the fact that her dream still lingers with her.  She stole a glance at the man she had shared herself with - however in the dream it might be.  It was a first - hopefully of many.  But she was here for a reason.  A paying job so she could keep surviving. 

Her camera was slung over her shoulder as Sierra readied to go on the hunt with the pack.  It would be a rare experience most humans didn't get to see.  But Sierra had taken part many times.  This time even with her bow in hand, she held her camera ready to take candid images.

She smiled at Tristan, "Do you want to hunt with the pack?"  She hoped he would.  The wolves wanted to show them the place of the old one.  The youngest were a buzz and Never was sad he couldn't go with them on the hunt, he was too young and no matter how many times Sierra told him this he wanted to go.  the images he projected were of sadness and loneliness.   He was being a drama queen.

[Continued from Saving Jay].


Natalie’s look may as well have been a mirage. A trick of the imagination. A sure sign of insanity. Yet she didn’t run. Neither did he. Not yet; anyway. Now, yes. 

He grabbed her hand, one last glimpse at Cayli behind, and ripped his own heart from his chest. He ran like his feet might dig craters into the ground. The rifle was strapped to his back, but ammunition was low. Spent far too easily. He steadied it with one hand, and with the other, pulled Natalie along by sheer will to cling to something and not lose her along the way; she was fading as much as he before Jensen’s attention. It was likely to be the last time he would see Cayli, but the ripped veil between life and death didn’t make him want to claw his own eyes out. It was something else that turned his stomach to lead. 

They had to flee.

Scorching Texas heat crunched shards of grass beneath their feet. Fences were no barricade. The houses were boarded up or those within huddled in fright. Nobody impeded their path. He yanked whatever clothing floated in the wind from clothes lines in one yard. On another street, he checked every car they passed along the way. Until something of interest among his rusted fenders caught his sight. He couldn’t hot-wire the heavy-computer-based engines of newer cars. But an old-fashioned, 40-year-old pickup was another story.

The butt of the rifle smashed the driver’s side window, carefully avoiding spitting glass into the passenger seat. A slide under the dashboard and the diesel-engine roared to life a minute later. The shocks to his fingers didn’t even make him flinch. Not after the attentions of the past few days. Probably never make him flinch again.

The clothes were balled up and stuffed away. He’d change later. Priority was escape. No matter what, getting involved with the police was the last thing they wanted. The truck didn't even have a/c, but it was a beast. Fine with him.

They ran dangerously low on gas along the interstate headed south and were forced to stop at a gas station/bar/strip-club.