multiversallogs | Entries tagged with } réjean sept-heure

bonhomme7h.livejournal.com

Who: Réjean Sept-Heure and YOU
What: Business as usual.
Where: Stairway to Heaven
When: Newdi night.
Warnings: Réjean. Expect language, ill-manners, and intolerance of self-importance or aggrandizement.

With the last of the bad blood flushes from the system and a steady supply of new, clean cruor coming in, Réjean worked quickly to return Mafaton back to normal. With the heart of the crisis having passed, the Council returned to sleep leaving him free to run the city in his usual laissez faire manner. One of his prerogatives was to artificially reduce the rate of feeding by keeping a portion of the vampire population in torpor.

Should anyone wish to come talk to the man that passes for proxy of the Council of Princes, he can be found during his usual hours at the Stairway to Heaven.

bonhomme7h.livejournal.com

Who: Réjean and Rosa
What: Intro, meet and greet, general shenanigans.
Where: Réjean's office in the Undercity
When: Coardi night.
Warnings: Language!

After his short chat with Anna, Réjean had his assistant set-up a time for Rosa to come down to Mafaton to be properly introduced and acknowledged. If the whole neighbourhood is subdued, brightened only by the occasional splash of red paint visible on doorways, Undercity itself is even quieter. The Royal Quarters (and Réjean's office) can be found on beyond the moat, through the Apothecarium, and down a twisting hallway.

As is traditional, he makes her wait twenty minutes beyond her scheduled appointment time before summoning her into his office.

bonhomme7h.livejournal.com

Who: EVERYONE
What: Réjean has decided that more people ought to celebrate and help raise a bit of dosh for one of his favourite bars. See: flyer.
Where: The Apache.
When: Misdi night and into the wee hours of the morning.
Warnings: Discussion of Pickman's manky feet.

The Apache is much the same as it always is: dimly lit, with the jukebox playing in the background, and the bartender serving whatever's on tap. Tonight, the bar is packed with people from all across the city, different cantons and cohorts, all out to celebrate surviving the fungal plague. Patrons are encouraged to buy tickets for a door prize with the proceeds going to repair the damage tunnelling ants made to the cellar.

bonhomme7h.livejournal.com

Who: Réjean & Ilde
What: A swap meet gone wrong, leading to swimming lessons.
Where: The Gross Tar
When: Newdi evening
Warnings: Réjean. Eye gore.

Among those he deals with it's common knowledge that Réjean can do things that aren't typical for a vanilla human, but the actual extent of his abilities are a closely guarded secret. Some men say that he's just a man with a few flashbang bits of magic that he's stolen, while others are convinced he's just a step below the great and powerful Oz. In part, it's for occasions like this that Réjean cultivates this ambiguity.

Within moments of stepping onboard the boat and heading out into the Gross Tar's current, Réjean knew that this meeting was unlikely to end well. The blinkmoth dealers of Head and Verso regions were too gregarious, too willing to meet on the river, and underneath it all, he could smell that they, and the heavies hidden below decks, were gut-churningly nervous.

Both practically and mystically, running water has a great many uses: it weakens many types of spells, bars some fae and undead from crossing, and in this particular instance, can provide a convenient, if undignified, escape. Once the first shots were fired, Réjean turned and with a hideous wail, clutching at crossbolt bolt protruding from what was once his eye, tipped over the railing and dropped into the river. With hardly a ripple to mar the surface of the water, Réjean sank below the range of the dealer's guns and crossbows.

bonhomme7h.livejournal.com

Who: Réjean and Anna
What: Meeting, chatting, and an introduction to the Baedal vampire community.
Where: A thoroughly filthy dive bar.
When: Newdi night.
Warnings: For now, expect language.

The Crown and Tiger is a low-slung, semi-basement type of establishment where the only thing stickier than the bar is the floor. Among it's other qualifications -- such as the walls, floor, and upholstery, all being a similarly mysteriously stained brown -- the owner doesn't mind trading favours with Réjean and that alone is worth his patronage.

After speaking to Nuala and setting up a time and place, Réjean can be found sitting in a quiet booth with the paper and occasionally checking his CiD.

suninhades

Who: Integra Hellsing and Réjean Sept-Heure.
What: These fucking vampires on my lawn etc
Where: A Bar Of Ill-Repute.
When: The other day? Today? Sometime.
Notes: It's like a spy novel! But terrible.
Warnings: See: Who.

Someday, Integra thinks as she pushes open the door to the dingy tile-walled bar, she's just going to clock Réjean square in the face and force him to meet her in a bloody tea room, dressed nicely and sitting still. Not that anyone would ever bother her, even in this sighing, dilapidated place - dressed casually, Integra still looks a bit like she could (and would) just break any wandering hands - but it's the spirit of the thing, really. She finds a table, orders tea (ends up just drinking hot water and lemon), and sits with her back against the wall, waiting and tuning out the only semi-sober efforts of a handful of local musicians as they set about scuttling the cleared-off area in one corner that passes for a stage.

tropfatale.livejournal.com

Who: Sonja Garin, Réjean Sept-Heure.
What: Sonja goes to see a man she suspects is capable of trading in materials slightly more sensitive (and useful) than Nutella.
Where: Some fancy miscellaneous cafe in Aspic.
When: Early evening.
Notes: N/A
Warnings: Idk, Réjean is in it?

Sonja is quickly figuring that the world of Baedal that she's presented with is probably not its entire truth--it's natural for governments and their PR systems to smooth over reality, so she's not surprised, but the divergence between truth and fiction seems even broader here, maybe because she's an outsider's perspective. Assimilation is something she never managed at home, and she doubts it possibility here. Consequently, she's even more unwilling than usual to accept its ostensible rules as fact.

And that means making connections to see what she can get, and what she can't. The walk to Aspic isn't the shortest, but it's good for her to see the city, to expose herself to it and learn what it's like. The destination is nicer than she expected, but that makes sense for the purpose of this meeting, and her apparel is versatile, so she'll blend in adequately...in as much as she ever does. She steps into the cafe, low heels of her boots unsettlingly quiet on the floorboards, and makes her way to the designated table.

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Entries tagged with } réjean sept-heure

OPEN :: I won't put white into your hair I won't make noises in your stairs

This world, where much is to be done and little to be known.

It's like paradise, spread out with a butter knife :: [OPEN]

On matters of style, swim with the current, on matters of principle, stand like a rock.

flick on your loosest tooth with your tongue

well you may throw your rock and hide your hand

everybody's got a deal to make.

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