five thousand users fed today

[fuckin_thirsty]

Who: Fish, Deacon Frost
What: Something goes wrong in Spatters, and no one is surprised. Except the people involved.
Where: Spatters, in one of the not completely terrible blocks.
When: Shundi evening (OOCly: the 4th of December).

It stopped raining when the sun went down, which is good news for night life.

City lamps paint illumination off puddles, where they've collected murky on the sidewalks and water makes the streets seem made of ink over asphalt. Ramshackle residential buildings, businesses that barely limp along, and those that don't have anywhere indoors to go are what lines the roads. There is, at one stage, the rather unusual but very sharp sound of horse hooves clapping down the road, a rider directing steed through space otherwise occupied by cars, but gone again like a ghost.

The predators are more silent, keeping to the shadows, but they're present too.

Somewhere.

» hide with all the ghosts in your bedroom, they will keep you awake.

[timewreck.livejournal.com]

Who: Kiden and Laura
What: Dumpster diving is a full time job. Get a friend to help you.
Where: Behind Chimer Market
When: Givdi night
Notes: Teen AAAAANGST /fistclutch
Warnings: It's Laura and Kiden. What could possibly go wrong?

She's been here a little less than a handful of days and Kiden's fighting the urge to slip into No-Time and just camp out there permanently. The only reason why she hasn't done it already is she's worried that the rest of the little group she has as a makeshift family might be here and they're just separated. Again. Wouldn't be the first time, but at long as she stays in regular time, they'll find each other. They always do. She can only hope.

Right now, living with the normal people means she has to eat and eat now. She didn't stick around at the inn long enough to get the free room and board talk from the grandmotherly looking lady who opened the door for her. Being locked in a bedless room didn't endear her to staying anyway. Besides, with her head down in a garbage can at the back of the now closed market, Kiden's in her environment. There isn't much to this environment, though. Nothing but fruits and vegetables in various stages of rotting and bruising. But some still look edible enough if Kiden spends the next half hour picking at those weird looking spots. She has time. It's something she has more than enough of.

open log: mOuOm

[molotovmartinis.livejournal.com]

Who: Balthazar and anybody
What: creeping, most likely
Where: here and there, hither and thither
When: whenever is convenient
Notes: Balthazar's permissions! If you don't have yours done, please do them before tagging me, so that I don't godmode anyone.
Warnings: Senator Ickyface is Chairman of Creepery, and generally unpleasant. Grossness could happen! ... it's kind of always a possibility with him.


His room at the Valhalla Inn stays, for the most part, empty and unused. Sometimes he puts things there just in case anyone is checking, and he drops by every few days to pester Fish at night. He's come no closer to figuring out what exactly Fish is, but he's wary of using magic in Baedal; nothing feels right, or rather, the way he's used to, and besides, it's more fun this way.

Day and night he wanders Baedal. He's been in most of the city by now, sometimes shielded from the general view by his illusory powers, sometimes layered in illusion, and sometimes, as he is now, out in the open. Adaptation of his image is absolutely necessary, which he is accustomed to due to his many years on earth; Baedal lacks the sheer volume of material greed that an industrialized society supports and maintains, but gold is still a motivator. He has not entirely abandoned the suit, but today it is less obnoxious. The tie, however, is still horrendous.

Today he moves among people, gently sowing casual chaos. Occasionally he utilizes his powers to pick a pocket, but only to transfer the money to someone else's. He looks at people hard, trying to learn the subtleties and nuances of their nature to determine what exactly they are. At home, he used four basic categories: celestial, infernal, human, and non-human. These are entirely inadequate even just out on the street. And, too, he knows that probably some of them can see him the same way he's seeing them — but he's hardly that weird in comparison to many xenians, so the reaction is muted. It's interesting and novel to him, and he's looking out for those slight and small tells.

(no subject)

[captaincocksure]

Who: Jim Kirk and anyone and everyone who has business at the Hellsing guild hall today
What: Jim tries to honor a fallen comrade by carrying on his legacy. His "legacy".
Where: The Hellsing guild hall and the back forty.
When: This afternoon.
Notes: Dear Hellsing, please enjoy Dean Winchester's trolling from beyond the grave. Also, Jim is approachable at any stage of these proceedings, just specify where you're dropping in on his work.
Warnings: Toilet water, ew.

Stardate 0.114 (relative to Jim's arrival in Baedal)

The city's only Starfleet captain reports to the Hellsing guild hall, to both honor a lost colleague and to try to fill in. Not that he can, not in the ways that count. But something the man once showed him, offhand, makes him think he can contribute a little.

( Per Dominum, amen. )