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Approved Characters / Mick Samson
« Last post by Satyr on Today at 11:24:02 PM »
Michael Edward Samson

Quote
Locus minoris resistentiae
A place of least resistance



Nickname: Mick

Age Appearance: 25
Birthday: 30 July
Gender: Male

Species:
Human

Family Connections: Ben Samson
Domicile(s): Apartment 7 at the Majester, South of the City.
Vehicle: Honda CBR500R

Permissions Given in reasonable Roleplay:
(Yes = you don't have to ask before acting in RP, No = you ask first)

Feeding: Yes
Wounding/Cursing: Yes
Killing: Yes
 
Appearance
Hair: Sandy, blonde/brown with golden blonde highlights. He keeps it short all over, with length at the top brushed upward.
Eyes: Light hazel in colour, often paired with an intense stare.
Frame: 5'10" in height, muscular build
Tattoos/Distinguishing Marks: Half sleeve tattoo on his left arm of toucans in a tropical setting.
 
Personality: Confident and unethical. Brave but sometimes his bravado rings false. He will push through his cowardice to save face. Won't start a fight but always keen to finish one. Respectful to those obviously superior. Manipulative. Excellent liar/deception skills. Doesn't have a lot to believe in because everyone in his life has let him down. He considers life to be temporary so enjoy it as much as you can.

Family History: Mundane. He had a family (parents, one older brother, Ben). His older brother has a 9 year difference over him. When Ben left home at 16 Mick didn't understand why but thought Ben would visit him. He was disappointed when Ben never did. His parents devolved after that, fighting every day. Mick got a girl pregnant while in high school. A few years later his mother died from complications of an ulcer removal.
 
Recent History: He tracked down his older brother Ben two years ago and found out he was a rich vampire. He attempted to insert himself in his brother's life but was accused of only being after his money. Ben gave him a million dollars to leave him alone and Mick accepted. Mick lived the high life for the next year, buying an apartment and a motorbike, throwing parties and burning through the money until there was none left. He now takes dodgy jobs and has a contact list full of dubious people who make shady business arrangements. He's only just now landed himself a job assisting a vampire known as 'The Collector' in Mick's circles, but he turned out to be plainly called 'William'.
 
Occupation/Job: Assistant to William de Warrene
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Out Of The City / Re: Something New
« Last post by Existentially Odd on Today at 11:21:25 PM »
Kerr slid his wallet into his back jeans pocket and his keys into the side one, glancing around to figure out where to view the photos and put in their orders. Ben's words gave him pause and he tilted his head momentarily before leaning down to peck his lips. The fact that they needed to reconnect after he'd left was more than the point his lover was making, he thought, but it was all important. Their relationship was worth the effort.

His hand remained on Ben's shoulder, his thumb brushing against the side of his neck. "It is," he agreed, resisting the urge to gush too much about how spending time alone with Ben gave him the stability he needed to interact with the rest of the world. "It's your turn, next time. I like the idea of doing something on your list of preferred activities," he grinned, wondering what Ben might liked to do. Would he stick to 'normal' tasks like tonight's bridge climb? Kerr's smile was alight with curiosity.

"Think we could try to make this a regular thing?" he enquired, taking Ben's hand and leading him towards the photography both that was set up close to the exit. Some of the other couples had left, others were standing scattered about the area, poring over iPads that seemed to have all the photos from the night on them. The couple that had got engaged on the bridge were having a very in-depth discussion with the photographer behind the counter. She'd been the lead during the climb, snapping the portraits with prejudice - if they hadn't looked good, she'd snapped extras photos until they were.
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Club Zero / Re: Segue
« Last post by Seragil on Today at 09:01:45 PM »
Phoenix accepted their phones and after putting them in his locker and giving Trick the key he led the pair to the main club, the music pumping through them as soon as he opened the door, the supernaturals therein all out and proud and on full display.

"This is why no phones," Phoenix half shout whispered to Trick as a fae flitted past them heading towards the dance floor, their luminescent wings leaving a cloud of shimmering sparkles in their wake. "Welcome to Club Zero," he said amusedly as he followed the fae with his eyes.

**

Pudin'-pie? Precious? Who the fuck did this guy think he was? Rage burned coldly through Phaedre. The only outward sign of her anger, however, was a slow, cruel smile curving her lips upwards like a blade. So focused was she on the little upstart werewolf's face, that she missed the passing of the bottle.

"Oh my sweet, sweet child," she said softly as snakes formed slowly out of her hair, the long curls spilling and thickening into glowing eyed writhing, hissing basilisks. "What a watery bowl of gumbo you are." She tugged at her lower lip with the tip of her thumb, her nail cutting through the tender flesh enough to cause a beading of blood to form. "Is there anything else you would like to say?" she asked, her eyes serpent cold and slitted.
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Mei Jia Apartments / Game On
« Last post by Existentially Odd on Today at 06:49:04 PM »
Harm rushed back to his apartment in a harried manner, heavy cloth bags hooked over both forearms, juggling their weight so he could get his keys out of his pocket. The door banged open because the knob escaped his grasp but he ignored it in favour of hopping towards the nearby bench, one leg extended behind him to kick the door closed. He dumped the bags with a sigh of relief and withdrew his arms, putting his keys back on the hook on the fridge.

He pulled his phone out of his pocket to check the time, his mouth shifting into a disapproving line as he saw it was ten to two. Ten minutes until Tobi would arrive. Maybe he'd be late. But what if he was early? Stress tightened his shoulders because he hadn't meant to be out as long as he had. Tobi hadn't even cared about snacks, he'd told Harm not to worry but the host in him (burnt into his soul by his socially-minded mother) hadn't been able to help himself. Someone was coming over to his house to play and he was excited!

Probably a bit too excited, considering the amount of food he'd bought: potato chips, a platter of vegetable sticks, dips, cold bottles of soft drink, the makings of hot dogs and a container of hot wings from a nearby bar (the last thing he'd picked up, so they'd stay hot in their tin foil container), but he hadn't been able to help himself. Biting his lower lip, he surveyed his bounty, calculating what he'd start with and what he'd put away. Vegetable platter, dips and wings first he decided, starting to put everything else away so that he could get the first snacks to the coffee table in preparation.

He glanced around as he transferred things from bags to bench, wondering if Trick was back from the gym yet. He wasn't in the open living/kitchen area. The thought that he might already be there (in the bedroom or bathroom), having used his key to get in before Harm got back, sent a happy thrill through him but didn't distract him from his task. Time wasn't on his side.
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Capital Building / Re: Forbidden Fruit
« Last post by Ehcorn on Today at 02:36:38 PM »
Sam began talking and a deep frown entrenched itself in Remi’s face. He knew Sam spoke in English, a language he was fluent in, but nothing he said made sense. Maybe he should take him home? Why couldn’t he stay there? They’d stopped before they’d gotten too carried away. Nothing was preventing them from returning to the couch and spending more time with one another, whether it be to talk or just sit for a while. As long as they were together, Remi didn’t care which it was. When Sam went on to say that he didn’t want to go, Remi brightened. Sam didn’t leave it at that, though. He canceled out everything he’d said up to that point with a single word.

But.

Sam didn’t want to go. He didn’t want to leave him.

But he had to.

He’d leave because he was convinced they wouldn’t be able to stop next time. Their bodies would meet and they wouldn’t be able to separate until they’d had their fill of one another. Remi scoffed and looked heavenward, though he didn’t see the night sky or its scattered, sparkling stars. He was too deep in his head. Yes, it’d been difficult to remember where he started and Sam began because when they touched, they’d melded together like two halves made whole, but he had, hadn’t he? He’d remembered and he’d pulled back. They’d separated. And they continued to stand separated now, didn’t they? All he wanted to do was stride forward and wrap himself around Sam again, but he hadn’t.

Didn’t he deserve some credit for that?

He looked at Sam again, his eyes caressing the strong lines of his jaw and cheekbones because he couldn’t do the same with his fingers.

"I don’t understand," Remi said, inhaling shortly and licking his lips before he continued. He made himself look at Sam’s eyes. "You say that we won’t be able to stop if you stay here, but what about tomorrow night? Or the next? If you don't think we can stop, what difference does it make if you leave now and come back? Are you saying we shouldn't be near each other at all? That we shouldn't touch?"

His mouth twisted into a miserable line as a single desperate thought overtook all others: Please don’t say I can’t touch you.
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Ouroboros / Re: Seeing a Snake about a Sword
« Last post by Black Philip on Today at 02:34:24 PM »
"I'd say it's a good start," Apep answered, refusing to be shaken down for a one of a kind item like Magebane. That didn't mean Alistair wasn't moving in the right direction though. A ten year guarantee was no small offer. Maintenance and updates being included also added to the pot, but Apep refused to part with something he'd never get back for something as intangible as spell work. No. He needed something that would compensate him for the money or power he might've obtained for it elsewhere.

"Tell me," Apep said with a fair amount of gusto. "Have you ever taken a soul?"

Apep picked up his jewelers tools, and began pulling real diamonds out of the watches and replacing them with fakes. The fakes were good, and would fool all but the most knowledgeable. The sword was unguarded, but Apep was ready if Alistair attempted to take it. He assumed his customer would know better than to risk his life. After all, they were making such progress!
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The White Rabbit / Re: Waiting
« Last post by Saiketsu on Today at 01:11:37 PM »
His breath stuck in his throat as she blushed and told him what he needed to know. Still his own words felt inappropriate now in the heaviness and fear that invaded the car. He wasn't used to such a feeling, having suppressed his affection for her for so long that now the meaning of his words, while genuine, felt too extreme to hear aloud.

"I want that too," Damien whispered, swallowing the lump in his throat. If he were not so good at controlling his own impulses, he would have told her what he needed to say.

I love you, Rachel.

Instead he leaned over the center console and kissed her deeply like the very first night they made love. Warmth filled his senses, echoing from her skin against his lips and her cheek in his hand, to the need to have her close and safe and whole, carving a tunnel deep in his chest. One day soon he'd let her know.

He was the first to release their kiss, missing immensely that tender mouth and the feeling that everything would be okay after all. With grey eyes he watched her intently, admiring the softness of her face and the freckles dotting her hairline. He had committed to memory the details of her features, the striations of brown, chestnut, and mahogany of her eyes, the curve of her lips, the dip of her philtrum above her lips... Damien tried to imprint them now, wondering annoyingly if it would be the last time he looked upon her. His own lips twitched into a sober smirk as he replied. "Let's just get through tonight, yes?"

---

It was a slow night at the Rabbit. Slow nights were always filled with tedium and alcoholics, but at least he didn't have to spend the night kissing Freddy's ass upstairs again. He was sure that Freddy thought it just fitting that Quinn be asked to manage the downstairs bar by himself for a few hours while Freddy and Tommy danced together and shared some lines upstairs. Downstairs the clientele was louder, grumpier, and needed more of a stiff management that no one looked to Quinn for. Fortunately, they both seemed to have underestimate exactly how slow the night was going and Quinn was rather thankful. A busy bar meant more Anarchs acting like asses and making trouble for him.

Texts from Malakai were rapid fire back and forth while he pretended to wipe the bar. There were quips and cute plans being made and even a selfie react or two as the night dragged on. They were supposed to have gone to the carnival thing together that was happening on the east side of the city, but getting called into work had put a major damper on their plans for the evening. Now, he fully intended to spend his night texting his boyfriend while the drunkards got their fill.

There was a particularly good-looking piece of eye-candy sitting at the front of the bar that Quinn couldn't help but (discreetly) snap a picture of with the intention of sending to Rachel later when he was off shift. He was blonde - not usually his type - with a good solid set of traps and delts and a serious expression on his well-groomed face. Sparkling blue eyes and request for a Bloody Mary with extra salt - one of the Rabbit's code for disguised blood - made Quinn's overly eager imagination spin some slightly embarrassing but highly sexy scenarios that made him realize that he missed getting laid regularly. Like a good boyfriend he kept his eyes (mostly) to himself and went into the back to get a drink of ice-cold water - and chased it with a double shot of tequila.

He was tapping a keg beneath the bar when he glanced up at an entering couple he recognized immediately and excitement lit his expression. It only took him a another second or two to realize that whatever brought them to the White Rabbit tonight was not a good thing. Quinn stopped what he was doing immediately, his joy at seeing his best friend at his workplace seeping out of him as a protective concern gripped his chest. Why was Rachel here, her eyes red and her fear simmering just below the surface of her pretty face. He saw Damien leading her by the hand over to the handsome stranger that Quinn was going to send her a picture of earlier. Without waiting to be acknowledged by either of them, Quinn rounded the bar at a calm walk, his eyes hanging critically over the vampire at Rachel's side for any kind of fuckery that he may have been responsible for.

---

He had been sipping at his warmed blood and watching the door peripherally as Damien and Rachel entered. Damien found him before he was even able to get up from his chair, unsurprisingly. Pierre had only the time to turn and see the couple approach, putting his phone face down on the bar.

"Hey," he gave perfunctorily, as he quickly took stock of the state of the two of them.
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Out Of The City / Re: The Haunting of Thane Manor
« Last post by Idrial on Today at 12:51:40 PM »
Maria tilted her head in kind at Thestia's compliment, listening intently to the explanation Thestia provided. A caretaker for the souls trapped by the pact Tess made in this house. This would be no easy task, destroying the house or Tess would be catastrophic for everyone. Taking note of the three spirits Thestia illustrated for the group, Thembla, her mother and father, who to approach first remained unseen. Thembla grieves and could be unpredictable. Perhaps dealing with the mother or father should be the route to take, but Maria was the only one individual in the group, and it should be a collective agreement amoung all of the witches.

Maria's train of thought ended in dismay, a young woman suffering, and a male crying in sorrow. A brief flash appeared in her mind with a picture of both Samantha, and an evil face she never wished to see again. Her face cracked, a look of deep worry appeared on her brow. Thestia spoke the truth about Sam, the teacup trembled in her hand, prompting Maria to set the teacup down on the table. A mistake? No, her own people betrayed their Saltigue and their tribe. The evil vampires' silver tongue had been their undoing, and unlike the people she called family long ago, the Anarchs would not betray Maria. Or hurt Samantha.

Maria did not see her own death. Only Sam and the olive-skinned man that annihilated her tribe. Which meant, one of the two could end up dead. Is that why Samantha's little town appeared in her vision long ago? The two were meant to cross paths? Maria's purpose in Sams life was bigger than to just comfort Sam after the tragic death of her mortal family. Prehaps it was to save Jake, his family, and the Anarchs the pain that not only scarred her for centuries. The trauma had weakened her connection with her deities, especially Roog. Until she met Sam almost fifteen years ago, regaining her power and more.

Maria accepted the gifts from Thestia before she vanished, trying hard to keep the look of worry off her face. Sam is in danger, but she would not fall for the mere parlour tricks the house would throw at them. They would escape this place, somehow.
9
Out Of The City / Re: Something New
« Last post by Satyr on Today at 11:27:05 AM »
Ben grinned up at him and then they were inside the building, moving to their respective lockers and getting their items. Ben hadn't stripped like Kerr so merely took off his shoes and removed the onesie, stepping out of it. He collected his phone and wallet and took his shoes to a nearby chair so he could sit and lace them up onto his feet again. Kerr's requirement for such shoes made sense now.

"Thank you for tonight," he said when Kerr joined him. "We haven't done things as a couple much lately and it's nice."
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Ouroboros / Re: Seeing a Snake about a Sword
« Last post by sully on Today at 10:57:08 AM »
Alistair stared suspiciously at Apep as the latter finished his supposed account of his history with the blade. The warlock was clever enough to know that the demon was likely holding back most if not all of the true story, but having nothing to pull him up on, Alistair simply accepted the answer with a nod. Besides, he knew a few rituals that could divine a vague timeline of the blade's experience. But no need to worry about that now. He reached back into his pack and began extracting the items. Before taking out the large white paper book, Alistair ran his fingers over the spine, enchanting it to appear as bound with leather, the humorous personally crafted title was no longer visible.

Placing the newly enchanted book, his vials of herbs, and his pettle and morter on the counter in front of the blade, Alistair again met the snake's eyes and said "True, any mage of considerable power could provide such a spell for you. And perhaps they might even settle for a lesser price. But I can offer you two things they won't; longevity and discretion. Most spells of this power degrade over time and require recasting. Other mages would ask for payment for the initial spell then ask you the same fee to come back and touch it up. I on the other hand, will offer my services for the next... let say 10 years, for just the sword now. I also promise to not ask about your dealings nor any specific enchantments or work you may ask of me. I will not work for you or run errands, but will provide any magical assistance to your club I can. How does that sound?"
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