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by Parcia » Tue Mar 12, 2019 4:42 pm
by Fascist Republic Of Bermuda » Tue Mar 12, 2019 4:51 pm
by Luminesa » Tue Mar 12, 2019 5:18 pm
Fascist Republic Of Bermuda wrote:Gates, Kingsley & Gates Moeller Murphy Funeral Directors
Afternoon
“Are you sure this is the place?” Agent Higgins asked as the car pulled over in front of the home. “Yep. That’s what the background check said,” Sergeant Powell confirmed, flipping the file closed, “Name-” “Name Konstantin Mikhailov, born in the Soviet Union, immigrated to America sometime in the ‘90s, former university professor, sold his home a few years ago, currently believed to be residing in this funeral home,” Graves rattled off from memory, getting out of the car and adjusting her suit jacket, “Come on. Longer we stay out here the more time he has to expect us.”
“I’ll stay by the car. You get wind of any narcotics, just call me,” Higgins affirmed as Powell and Graves walked up to the door of the funeral home. Graves rang the doorbell, flashing her badge as soon as it opened.
“Afternoon, sir, I’m Special Agent Sam Graves. Federal Bureau of Investigation. This is Sergeant Powell, Los Angeles Police Department. Is Mister Mikhailov home?”
by Parcia » Tue Mar 12, 2019 9:25 pm
by Fascist Republic Of Bermuda » Wed Mar 13, 2019 7:43 pm
Luminesa wrote:Fascist Republic Of Bermuda wrote:Gates, Kingsley & Gates Moeller Murphy Funeral Directors
Afternoon
“Are you sure this is the place?” Agent Higgins asked as the car pulled over in front of the home. “Yep. That’s what the background check said,” Sergeant Powell confirmed, flipping the file closed, “Name-” “Name Konstantin Mikhailov, born in the Soviet Union, immigrated to America sometime in the ‘90s, former university professor, sold his home a few years ago, currently believed to be residing in this funeral home,” Graves rattled off from memory, getting out of the car and adjusting her suit jacket, “Come on. Longer we stay out here the more time he has to expect us.”
“I’ll stay by the car. You get wind of any narcotics, just call me,” Higgins affirmed as Powell and Graves walked up to the door of the funeral home. Graves rang the doorbell, flashing her badge as soon as it opened.
“Afternoon, sir, I’m Special Agent Sam Graves. Federal Bureau of Investigation. This is Sergeant Powell, Los Angeles Police Department. Is Mister Mikhailov home?”
Mikhailov had managed to get a few hours of sleep, but he was unable to stay asleep for a long time. He woke-up around noon, and shook his head. He hated sleeping for so long-valuable hours of sleep were lost, and he wanted desperately to get back to work. Yet as he got-up and got dressed, he noticed two things. Michael was gone, and as he walked through the funeral home, he did not find any traces of him. He wondered if the Doll had gone to find Alexei, which caused him some worry. I guess he really did listen...Well, as long as he did not try to get too close to him... he thought, a little apprehensive. The last time the Doll had left the house, after all, he had returned in a pile of bloodied scraps.
The second thing he noticed was that the doorbell had rung. He decided to answer it, hoping Michael would be at the door. When he got to the door and opened it, he frowned as he noticed the official-looking individuals at the door. “...Why hello there. Can I help you?” He was rather tired of being apprehended by official-looking individuals, but he kept his calm and leaned against the doorway. “...Ah. I see. I am Mikhailov, yes. What do you need?” He wondered what they could possibly want, and then a possibility struck him.
The strip club? The gunshot outside the church? The burning bodies outside Arquart’s house? Curses, it could be a number of things. And then I got excited and used Magic all three times...Well, Konstantin, how are you going to get yourself out of this mess?... he questioned. Getting locked-up was not his concern, but invoking Paradox in this situation could cause mass panic, enough that he could get himself killed.
by Luminesa » Wed Mar 13, 2019 9:33 pm
Fascist Republic Of Bermuda wrote:Luminesa wrote:Mikhailov had managed to get a few hours of sleep, but he was unable to stay asleep for a long time. He woke-up around noon, and shook his head. He hated sleeping for so long-valuable hours of sleep were lost, and he wanted desperately to get back to work. Yet as he got-up and got dressed, he noticed two things. Michael was gone, and as he walked through the funeral home, he did not find any traces of him. He wondered if the Doll had gone to find Alexei, which caused him some worry. I guess he really did listen...Well, as long as he did not try to get too close to him... he thought, a little apprehensive. The last time the Doll had left the house, after all, he had returned in a pile of bloodied scraps.
The second thing he noticed was that the doorbell had rung. He decided to answer it, hoping Michael would be at the door. When he got to the door and opened it, he frowned as he noticed the official-looking individuals at the door. “...Why hello there. Can I help you?” He was rather tired of being apprehended by official-looking individuals, but he kept his calm and leaned against the doorway. “...Ah. I see. I am Mikhailov, yes. What do you need?” He wondered what they could possibly want, and then a possibility struck him.
The strip club? The gunshot outside the church? The burning bodies outside Arquart’s house? Curses, it could be a number of things. And then I got excited and used Magic all three times...Well, Konstantin, how are you going to get yourself out of this mess?... he questioned. Getting locked-up was not his concern, but invoking Paradox in this situation could cause mass panic, enough that he could get himself killed.
"Mister Mikhailov, you're under arrest for suspicion of participation in severe damage caused to the Coven of the Purple Hearts. Powell, cuff him," Graves ordered, the LAPD Sergeant taking his cap from under his arm to put it back on. "Nobody's not being charged with anything just yet, we just need to bring you in for questioning about the whole thing," Powell tried to soothe the man, before launching into a little spiel, "Please slowly turn around and slowly put your hands behind your back. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney, and if you cannot afford one a Public Defender will be appointed for you. I wouldn't worry too much, Mister Mikhailov. We're not even sure the case is going to court yet." Powell got out a set of handcuffs to cuff the mage.
"Mister Mikhailov, it is in your best interests you come with us," Graves jumped in again, putting her FBI badge away, "Other persons involved might not testify kindly about the man who shot lightning from his hands."
by Fascist Republic Of Bermuda » Wed Mar 13, 2019 10:05 pm
Luminesa wrote:Fascist Republic Of Bermuda wrote:
"Mister Mikhailov, you're under arrest for suspicion of participation in severe damage caused to the Coven of the Purple Hearts. Powell, cuff him," Graves ordered, the LAPD Sergeant taking his cap from under his arm to put it back on. "Nobody's not being charged with anything just yet, we just need to bring you in for questioning about the whole thing," Powell tried to soothe the man, before launching into a little spiel, "Please slowly turn around and slowly put your hands behind your back. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney, and if you cannot afford one a Public Defender will be appointed for you. I wouldn't worry too much, Mister Mikhailov. We're not even sure the case is going to court yet." Powell got out a set of handcuffs to cuff the mage.
"Mister Mikhailov, it is in your best interests you come with us," Graves jumped in again, putting her FBI badge away, "Other persons involved might not testify kindly about the man who shot lightning from his hands."
Mikhailov nodded, put his hands behind his back, and let the authorities handcuff him. He was annoyed by how tight the cuffs were, as well as by how his suspicion had turned-out to be correct. He was being arrested for his relation to the mess at the strip club, and he had to wonder if perhaps they had found Alexei as well. ...As long as I don’t tell them about Alexei or Silvanus...or the Inquisition...or my powers...I should be fine...but in that case, what do I tell them? Think, Mikhailov, think! he thought as the agent read him his rights. He had quite a few obstacles through which he would have to weave a very good, complex story, and he did not have a whole lot of time to consider the details. He needed to be careful, and to only indicate what of the story was absolutely necessary.
On the outside, however, he remained silent and obedient, getting into the car and allowing himself to be taken for questioning. He leaned his head against the window, and wished he could go back to sleep and disappear. He wanted to dream, as his sleep had been sufficient, but empty of dreams. As he closed his eyes, he went right back to sleep and began to dream. Two arms approached and pulled him into darkness, with the only spotlight being the pale moon. Shining over him, the moon made the world appear to be silver and glittering. Before him was not Alexei, but Silvanus, dressed entirely in a glittering, silver suit, and smiling knowingly at him. Mikhailov merely stared back, doing nothing to stop him. He did smell blood, however, and went to look around, but Silvanus took his head and turned it back toward him.
Why am I dreaming of this? Silvanus...we haven’t spoken in a while...in a few days...what could you possibly want from me in a dream?... he wondered, not aloud. He realized, however, as he stared down at Silvanus’s hands, that his own face and hands were freezing cold...and a pale, grey-white. He felt the moon blanketing over him, and thousands of whispers filling his ears, flooding his brain with conflicting, impossible, enthralling knowledge. ...The...Embrace... He felt weak and infinitesimal in size, but also invincible in wisdom and power. The world smelled sweet...but in an eerie fashion of sweetness. Blood, sweet death and unlife.
Mikhailov was not fazed, once he understood, but looking at Silvanus’s expression brought gloom into his heart. ...So it is...Ah, but...you would never look at me with such a welcoming face...would you?...You know me too well...You know how I am when others are kind to me...And you are too beautiful to be kind for too long...The wrath of the gods... In his dream, he approached, and put his head on Silvanus’s shoulder. He then jolted awake, and stared ahead in the police-car, his heart beating fast.
by Luminesa » Thu Mar 14, 2019 3:52 pm
Fascist Republic Of Bermuda wrote:Luminesa wrote:Mikhailov nodded, put his hands behind his back, and let the authorities handcuff him. He was annoyed by how tight the cuffs were, as well as by how his suspicion had turned-out to be correct. He was being arrested for his relation to the mess at the strip club, and he had to wonder if perhaps they had found Alexei as well. ...As long as I don’t tell them about Alexei or Silvanus...or the Inquisition...or my powers...I should be fine...but in that case, what do I tell them? Think, Mikhailov, think! he thought as the agent read him his rights. He had quite a few obstacles through which he would have to weave a very good, complex story, and he did not have a whole lot of time to consider the details. He needed to be careful, and to only indicate what of the story was absolutely necessary.
On the outside, however, he remained silent and obedient, getting into the car and allowing himself to be taken for questioning. He leaned his head against the window, and wished he could go back to sleep and disappear. He wanted to dream, as his sleep had been sufficient, but empty of dreams. As he closed his eyes, he went right back to sleep and began to dream. Two arms approached and pulled him into darkness, with the only spotlight being the pale moon. Shining over him, the moon made the world appear to be silver and glittering. Before him was not Alexei, but Silvanus, dressed entirely in a glittering, silver suit, and smiling knowingly at him. Mikhailov merely stared back, doing nothing to stop him. He did smell blood, however, and went to look around, but Silvanus took his head and turned it back toward him.
Why am I dreaming of this? Silvanus...we haven’t spoken in a while...in a few days...what could you possibly want from me in a dream?... he wondered, not aloud. He realized, however, as he stared down at Silvanus’s hands, that his own face and hands were freezing cold...and a pale, grey-white. He felt the moon blanketing over him, and thousands of whispers filling his ears, flooding his brain with conflicting, impossible, enthralling knowledge. ...The...Embrace... He felt weak and infinitesimal in size, but also invincible in wisdom and power. The world smelled sweet...but in an eerie fashion of sweetness. Blood, sweet death and unlife.
Mikhailov was not fazed, once he understood, but looking at Silvanus’s expression brought gloom into his heart. ...So it is...Ah, but...you would never look at me with such a welcoming face...would you?...You know me too well...You know how I am when others are kind to me...And you are too beautiful to be kind for too long...The wrath of the gods... In his dream, he approached, and put his head on Silvanus’s shoulder. He then jolted awake, and stared ahead in the police-car, his heart beating fast.
"Thanks bud," Powell patted Mikhailov on the shoulder at the lack of resistance he was putting up. He was shoved into the back seat next to Higgins. The car drove off, headed back to the Field Office. "I think he's asleep, Graves," Higgins updated the FBI agent in the passenger seat. "Don't let your guard down. He might be faking it to get a grab at your gun."
Mikhailov snapped awake just as the car pulled into the parking lot.
He was escorted by an LAPD officer to a fairly nondescript room, the only objects inside of interest the a table in the middle and the two chairs facing each other. And the mirror that took up a good portion of the side wall. Provided with a plastic cup of water nabbed from a water cooler, he was allowed to simmer for a few minutes before Graves entered, holding a bundle of papers, taking the seat opposite the Russian.
"Mister Mikhailov, before we begin, do you wish for an attorney?" She asked, flipping through some of the papers she brought in, "You can legally request an attorney be present for your questioning. One of your choosing or a public defender."
by Fascist Republic Of Bermuda » Thu Mar 14, 2019 10:45 pm
Luminesa wrote:Fascist Republic Of Bermuda wrote:
"Thanks bud," Powell patted Mikhailov on the shoulder at the lack of resistance he was putting up. He was shoved into the back seat next to Higgins. The car drove off, headed back to the Field Office. "I think he's asleep, Graves," Higgins updated the FBI agent in the passenger seat. "Don't let your guard down. He might be faking it to get a grab at your gun."
Mikhailov snapped awake just as the car pulled into the parking lot.
He was escorted by an LAPD officer to a fairly nondescript room, the only objects inside of interest the a table in the middle and the two chairs facing each other. And the mirror that took up a good portion of the side wall. Provided with a plastic cup of water nabbed from a water cooler, he was allowed to simmer for a few minutes before Graves entered, holding a bundle of papers, taking the seat opposite the Russian.
"Mister Mikhailov, before we begin, do you wish for an attorney?" She asked, flipping through some of the papers she brought in, "You can legally request an attorney be present for your questioning. One of your choosing or a public defender."
Mikhailov had genuinely fallen asleep. If one looked closely at his face while he was dreaming, they would have seen hints of a conflict, and sorrow. He had wanted to speak to Silvanus, to ask him what all of this meant, but his mouth would not move. He could only stare and wonder, and while he felt cold in the dream, his body was warm. When he awakened and felt his pulse, he knew his heart had started beating quickly. He was not afraid, but rather...surprised. Shocked. Confused. ...No. I wish to Ascend...Why am I dreaming about the Embrace?... He remembered how he had thought Silvanus was perfect, when he had first met him. He wondered whether he still thought that way. ...Ahh...it is because the Embrace is perfect...perfect destruction...and rebirth...Losing myself to gain everything from him... he reasoned. He gave a deep sigh as the police-car finally came to a halt.
He got out the vehicle and followed the agents into the building. He remained silent and calm, his eyes down and unfocused. He only seemed to focus when he got to the interrogation room and was handed a glass of water. Sipping it, he listened as the agent asked if he wanted an attorney. He put the glass down and frowned. “I do not have too much money on my person at the time, but if you would like then I could bring money from home to use to pick an attorney. If this is not allowed then a Public Defender is no problem. What do you wish to know about me?” he inquired, his voice softer and meeker than usual.
Part of the unusual demeanor was his own design, to avoid suspicion, but part of it was also genuine. His dream had softened him and had lifted his heart elsewhere. Ahhhh Silvanus...if only I can defend you here...maybe you will forgive me...and we will be able to speak on such matters...I will be able to find the truth...but first, this trial I must pass... he thought.
by Parcia » Fri Mar 15, 2019 10:04 am
by Luminesa » Sun Mar 17, 2019 6:44 am
by Kingdom of Irhk » Fri Mar 22, 2019 4:58 pm
Luminesa wrote:Connor seemed to be allowing Alexei a chance to calm Michael, and the former Inquisitor knew he had to try and act quickly. The heat of the many firearms around him continued to burn, and he felt his knees trying to buckle from the terror. He could not decide if he was more frightened by the multitude of angry Garou or by Michael’s transformation into a cruel, raving beast. He hugged Michael more tightly, trying to act as the Doll had acted toward Silvanus. The irony was palpable.
“...Michael...listen to me, please...” Alexei whispered, as he felt the sharp spines in Michael’s back sticking into his chest, “...You don’t need to fight...I am not asking for you to fight. We...we were only talking about...”
“...About Mikhailov...I heard everything...” the Doll responded, in the horribly distorted voice which caused Alexei to shiver as he heard it again. The Doll had decided to lower his voice to a grumble, as he felt that his purported charge was afraid of him. “...You said you do not know...how he feels about you...and this Garou has decided that he...he hates you...” The growl grew slightly louder, alarming Alexei.
“No, no, no, no, no, he didn’t say that. But...he does not know Kostya. He does not have a reason to trust a person he has not met...Do you know why he wishes to protect me?...Why he sent you?...” Alexei inquired, walking to the front of the Doll in order to keep his focus away from Connor and Derrick.
The Doll grew quiet, strangely so, and he dodged Alexei’s gaze. The silence was full of painful static and fearful breathing, but after some time Michael found a response. “...He...hallucinated...that you were with him...and he...wanted to speak to you again...I fear he...he has lost his ability to be content by himself...I fear...he shall get himself hurt...seeking for a way out of his loneliness...but you...You keep him sane...You keep him peaceful and happy...” he explained. He glared toward Connor again, but Alexei turned his face to him.
“Don’t focus on Connor then. Focus on me...I do not hate you...I have never hated you, Michael...You are afraid that I won’t be able to love you if you can’t fight, but...I already love you. It’s okay...” he whispered, trying to console the beast. He wondered if he had been born to be so belligerent, and whether he was constantly fighting between his beast-like instincts and the kind, polite persona he showed to others.
Michael’s eyes grew large, and they sparkled. Alexei felt an odd sensation as he stared at his face, and he had to remind himself this was not Mikhailov. The Mage would never show such pure, innocent emotion on his face. He did not seek the approval of others as a part of his existence, or at least not overtly. The Doll, however, knew his survival depended on being loved. Thus Alexei’s words struck his heart. His voice even began to change to its sweeter tone, though his body was still a monster’s form. “...You...you do?...You...do not hate me for...not protecting you?...” he mumbled.
“I do not hate you. I want you to be the sweet, gentle friend I love. That’s all I need you to be, okay?...” He continued to watch the reaction to his words in Michael’s face. Michael was mystified. He had never been told he was loved simply for being himself, and especially not in his hideous monster-form. Alexei felt he was speaking now to a child, and he ignored the pain that came from hugging him. “...Now...I want you to change back. We’ll get you new clothes, I promise...” he whispered.
The Doll obeyed, changing back to his lovely humanoid form slowly. His spines receded into his back, he became smaller again, and his original appearance slowly reformed. Michael did not fight against Alexei now, but rather dropped his head onto his shoulder as he returned to his old form. Blood trickled from his mouth, and his breathing was labored. His clothing was also torn, with his shirt reduced to shreds and his pants torn at the legs and knees, and underneath one could see much of his body. Alexei stared with shock. Long scars and trails of stitching wrapped around his limbs, parts of his chest and back, and his neck. He had indeed been put together much like a doll that had been torn many times before, and Alexei was reminded that Michael was at his core one of Silvanus’s creations. His pain and his madness came from his creator, who ordered him to act as he was commanded to act. “...Alexei...help me...I am in pain...” he whispered.
Alexei nodded, and whispered a prayer to begin healing him. He would not be able to entirely save Michael’s broken bones, but he could stabilize them. As his Faith began to work, he looked to Connor. “...He will not hurt you now. He misunderstood what was asked of him, and now he is docile. Do...do you have any spare clothes which I can place on him? I’ll repay you, I promise, as you allowed for both of us to live. I am very grateful.”
by Luminesa » Fri Mar 22, 2019 8:46 pm
Kingdom of Irhk wrote:Luminesa wrote:Connor seemed to be allowing Alexei a chance to calm Michael, and the former Inquisitor knew he had to try and act quickly. The heat of the many firearms around him continued to burn, and he felt his knees trying to buckle from the terror. He could not decide if he was more frightened by the multitude of angry Garou or by Michael’s transformation into a cruel, raving beast. He hugged Michael more tightly, trying to act as the Doll had acted toward Silvanus. The irony was palpable.
“...Michael...listen to me, please...” Alexei whispered, as he felt the sharp spines in Michael’s back sticking into his chest, “...You don’t need to fight...I am not asking for you to fight. We...we were only talking about...”
“...About Mikhailov...I heard everything...” the Doll responded, in the horribly distorted voice which caused Alexei to shiver as he heard it again. The Doll had decided to lower his voice to a grumble, as he felt that his purported charge was afraid of him. “...You said you do not know...how he feels about you...and this Garou has decided that he...he hates you...” The growl grew slightly louder, alarming Alexei.
“No, no, no, no, no, he didn’t say that. But...he does not know Kostya. He does not have a reason to trust a person he has not met...Do you know why he wishes to protect me?...Why he sent you?...” Alexei inquired, walking to the front of the Doll in order to keep his focus away from Connor and Derrick.
The Doll grew quiet, strangely so, and he dodged Alexei’s gaze. The silence was full of painful static and fearful breathing, but after some time Michael found a response. “...He...hallucinated...that you were with him...and he...wanted to speak to you again...I fear he...he has lost his ability to be content by himself...I fear...he shall get himself hurt...seeking for a way out of his loneliness...but you...You keep him sane...You keep him peaceful and happy...” he explained. He glared toward Connor again, but Alexei turned his face to him.
“Don’t focus on Connor then. Focus on me...I do not hate you...I have never hated you, Michael...You are afraid that I won’t be able to love you if you can’t fight, but...I already love you. It’s okay...” he whispered, trying to console the beast. He wondered if he had been born to be so belligerent, and whether he was constantly fighting between his beast-like instincts and the kind, polite persona he showed to others.
Michael’s eyes grew large, and they sparkled. Alexei felt an odd sensation as he stared at his face, and he had to remind himself this was not Mikhailov. The Mage would never show such pure, innocent emotion on his face. He did not seek the approval of others as a part of his existence, or at least not overtly. The Doll, however, knew his survival depended on being loved. Thus Alexei’s words struck his heart. His voice even began to change to its sweeter tone, though his body was still a monster’s form. “...You...you do?...You...do not hate me for...not protecting you?...” he mumbled.
“I do not hate you. I want you to be the sweet, gentle friend I love. That’s all I need you to be, okay?...” He continued to watch the reaction to his words in Michael’s face. Michael was mystified. He had never been told he was loved simply for being himself, and especially not in his hideous monster-form. Alexei felt he was speaking now to a child, and he ignored the pain that came from hugging him. “...Now...I want you to change back. We’ll get you new clothes, I promise...” he whispered.
The Doll obeyed, changing back to his lovely humanoid form slowly. His spines receded into his back, he became smaller again, and his original appearance slowly reformed. Michael did not fight against Alexei now, but rather dropped his head onto his shoulder as he returned to his old form. Blood trickled from his mouth, and his breathing was labored. His clothing was also torn, with his shirt reduced to shreds and his pants torn at the legs and knees, and underneath one could see much of his body. Alexei stared with shock. Long scars and trails of stitching wrapped around his limbs, parts of his chest and back, and his neck. He had indeed been put together much like a doll that had been torn many times before, and Alexei was reminded that Michael was at his core one of Silvanus’s creations. His pain and his madness came from his creator, who ordered him to act as he was commanded to act. “...Alexei...help me...I am in pain...” he whispered.
Alexei nodded, and whispered a prayer to begin healing him. He would not be able to entirely save Michael’s broken bones, but he could stabilize them. As his Faith began to work, he looked to Connor. “...He will not hurt you now. He misunderstood what was asked of him, and now he is docile. Do...do you have any spare clothes which I can place on him? I’ll repay you, I promise, as you allowed for both of us to live. I am very grateful.”
Connor Mac Domhnaill
His shoulders were bleeding, yet his eyes were filled with rage. He slowly went back to his human form, as he stared at Alexei who healed the man who just attacked him, but in a different form: one that was a Frankenstein's Monster made by someone with a twisted mind. He was clearly someone with a disturbed mind, maybe a reflex of his creator.
"You are truly a mad man, Alexei... I can't give him any clothes, lad. He attacked my brother, desecrated my home, and nearly attacked you as well... This man doesn't deserve my hospitality or my favors at all. Get him the hell out of here, or I may regret my decision of letting you leave here at all.
And if he ever returns here I swear I'll cut his head off and send it to the hellhole where he came from!"
by Parcia » Fri Mar 22, 2019 10:14 pm
by Luminesa » Fri Mar 22, 2019 10:27 pm
Parcia wrote:The Giant and the Girl.
They both did, though they reacted differently.
Jennifer grabbed for the slightly bloody sheets and tried her best to cover her modesty the best she could, though there would be little mistaking what happened as she did so.
Jonah, to credit his surprisingly speed, had the revolver drawn and leveled at the door as soon as he caught the movement in his eye. "Alright, I don't care much for peeping toms, come on in and make your self known before I start pumping lead through that door."
The Wild, youthful energy of a young vampire would be blatant, but if the Good Priest focused a little harder on the Tall man, he might find something rather interesting.
by Parcia » Sun Mar 24, 2019 5:07 am
by Luminesa » Sun Mar 24, 2019 9:07 am
Parcia wrote:The Giant and the Priest.
Jonah paid her no mind as Jennifer rose out of bed and, with out really giving a care towards the small man as she walked, in plain view, fully naked to the bathroom. She got a bit of a thrill, seeing the man go beat red with embarrassment.
Jonah, keeping the gun on Alexei, smiled. "Forgive her, she's a hellion."
He took a moment and lowered the gun, though keeping it ready. He eyed Alexei for a little while longer, getting a read for him. He was small, though stout figure. He eyed him and his gun.
He chuckled again and relaxed. Alexei, with the New Borne Vampire out of the room, would be able to get a much better feel for Jonah, and what little Humanity and faith still remained.
"So tell me Alexei, why are you here."
by Parcia » Sun Mar 24, 2019 9:01 pm
by Luminesa » Sun Mar 24, 2019 10:14 pm
Parcia wrote:Jonah Continued to eye the man as he spoke, keeping silent until he flashed that smile. "I would understand a man of such Humility to be of the Church. As for my faith...my faith, and the burning hell fire of utter determination they beat in to me at Camp Currahee."
He took a moment to rolled up his sleeve, showing the old, slightly faded yet still readable tattoo of the Airborne.
"Enlisted back in 41, sent most of 41 and 42 training, got dropped in to Africa, Italy...Made the Jump in to France in 44...but the Fae grabbed me before I hit the ground, right out of my harness..."
He paused, took our a machbook and a cigar and lit it. He offered one to Alexei, then thought otherwise. "When I managed to get out of the Fighting Pits of Fortuna, the land of my Fae masters, I was transported to what...quite literally is the incarnation of hell."
"Came out of that Hell after some 40 years. Didn't Eat. Didn't Sleep. Never Rested. Just fought to Survive. I came out the other side on a slope of snow in the Himalayas, spent a few years running with the triad out of China. Learned how to read and speak Mandarin and Cantonese, picked up some Japanese acting as a neutral Mediator of sorts between them and the Yakuza."
He took off his trench Coat, leaving his double plate Vest and tank top on, showing the distinctive Dragon tattoos, while they covered his back and arms, the right arm stayed mostly clear, the only thing inked in to that arm would be his Unit Insignia and rank.
"I see the world as it is, Alexei, the prince, the Vampires. Hell, if I had it my way none of this would exist...but, alas, this is how it is. A mans Faith and his Self determination is the few things I can find reliable...well, that, and Blued Carbon Steel." He pat the Model 29.
by Imperialisium » Tue Mar 26, 2019 8:13 pm
by Luminesa » Tue Mar 26, 2019 9:06 pm
by Luminesa » Tue Mar 26, 2019 9:07 pm
by Parcia » Wed Mar 27, 2019 1:33 am
by Imperialisium » Wed Mar 27, 2019 5:22 pm
by Luminesa » Thu Mar 28, 2019 3:28 pm
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