His feet strike flagstones as he makes his way across the church roof, dragging his heels on the stones. The sound triggers sparks behind his eyes, or perhaps it’s the overwhelming presence of so many of his kind, leaving his mind pulled in all directions. Kestrel pulls his coat around himself more tightly, though he barely feels the chill in the air, and takes a leap.
If Con were there, K imagines he’d refer to it as a leap of faith, but it’s not terribly appropriate. A jump is no stretch for a man who can literally sprout wings, even if they are wings of stone. The presence of a church, too, seems irrelevant; as a gargoyle, he’s neither helped nor harmed by the presence of god. Or Gods, if one tosses aside the omnisence and omnipotence requirements, and Kestrel does.
It’s a long trip across town, particularly since he dares not fly in daylight. He takes the subway, staring in distaste at beggars and street musicians, at working mothers with too many kids and men wearing ridiculous hats and suspenders. The garments grow darker and dingier the farther they go along the line, and the people quieter, more wary, until at last he arrives at his destination. Brownsville.
He’s never met the woman he’s due to meet, but he’s worked out a deal with her through the grapevine. One can never be sure if messages are altered or changed in translation, but the deal seems fairly solid. He’s sure he knows who she’s seeking. He’s confident that he has useful, accurate information on the man’s associates and whereabouts. What remains to be seen is what this unknown woman is really willing to trade for this information, but he’s not too concerned about that. ‘Negotiations’ are his specialty.
He’s not particularly inconspicuous, waiting half a dozen feet from the subway entrance, but there’s few here who’d want to intrude on another’s business. Legs spread and arms tensed by his sides, he waits for the woman to make her appearance. He does make one small concession to the territory- when a group of men pass by in matching black and silver, he lowers his eyes, and moves aside to allow them to pass.
Entrepreneurs are simply those who understand that there is little difference between obstacle and opportunity and are able to turn both to their advantage
[style=width:500px; margin-top:10px; background-color:#E0E0E0;border-bottom:6px solid #D3D3D3;][style=font-size:20px;font-family:times new roman;color:#141414;margin-top:10px; text-indent:10px;letter-spacing:5px;text-transform:uppercase;][classy=emphasishere]"[/classy]You're howling, abyss-eyed
you're [classy=emphasishere]broken[/classy], and gracefully drunk
[/style]
She usually doesn't like venturing off the island except for missions and the promise of the kill, but Vivienne thinks that she could get used to this place. She thinks she could learn to love its streets, its concrete and steel. The way it tastes on the air like an animal still alive, but half-rotted with disease. She thinks she could walk here, fangs slightly bared and as unafraid as ever, and know that she owned each pavement stone.
She rides the subway a stop past her exit, and walks down the wrong streets on purpose. A mugger with a knife tries to shake down the stupid looking girl with not enough clothes on, and she slams his head against the brick wall of an alleyway four times, when it exploded like a ripe melon on the first. She's careful not to get any blood on her clothes, under her nails, though. She has a meeting to attend. She has to be professional.
The thought flutters through her head on silver-tipped feet, delicate and wispy. All the things she is not. Still, she allows it to rise the surface, savors the strange.
Outside of the subway station is only one man; the man Vivienne assumes she is going to meet. His arms look like they could serve as electrical conduits, sprung tighter than copper wires at his side, and that wide-legged stance.
"You're going to get the wrong kind of attention, posing like that pretty boy," she says. "Or maybe the right kind."
[classy=thoushalt][classy=thoushaltnot]
TAGS: kestrel
NOTES: a wild tsun post finally appears.
[/classy]
& nobody's left[classy=emphasishere] in the west[/classy]
Your party and your revolution Your grand designs and adorable dreams Your silverless palms and your list of demands For concessions the world doesn’t need Ah doomed youth, you’re too beautiful All your simplicities that you know they can’t see And everything’s different lately And it’s all exactly the same We know secrets and songs and temptation We know how things burn when you don’t watch the flame And the colours are hazy and faded The ideas given way to the names
wronged enough [classy=emphasishere]to be a punk[/classy] [classy=emphasishere]"[/classy]
He likes his women wisps in the breeze, that is, here and gone in moments. This woman radiates a presence too firm for him to mentally assign her such inclinations, though if her money’s as tangible as her presence, he’ll keep that thought to himself. He doesn’t relax his stance, though he does drop his arms to his sides loosely, allowing the tension to slowly drain away.
“Better hope not. I’ll be very disappointed if I came all the way out here for nothing.” And her attention is, indeed, ‘nothing’, unless it comes with money or information. Attractive and scantily dressed isn’t enough to turn his head. Kestrel prefers men, and when he turns to women, he prefers to pay for them. Of course, since he’s flying blind there’s always the possibility that she’s open to such arrangements… but he prefers not to mix business and, well, other business. “
“You’re looking for Jarrod Devien.” Questions leave room for dissent. He barely even leaves room for her to answer before he speaks again.
Entrepreneurs are simply those who understand that there is little difference between obstacle and opportunity and are able to turn both to their advantage
[style=width:500px; margin-top:10px; background-color:#E0E0E0;border-bottom:6px solid #D3D3D3;][style=font-size:20px;font-family:times new roman;color:#141414;margin-top:10px; text-indent:10px;letter-spacing:5px;text-transform:uppercase;][classy=emphasishere]"[/classy]You're howling, abyss-eyed
you're [classy=emphasishere]broken[/classy], and gracefully drunk
[/style]
Vivienne grins, quicksilver and hungry. Terms are always easy.
”I'm going to give you money,” she says. ”You're going to give me information. Then we never see each other again, unless, unfortunately, your information is wrong. But I'm sure it won't be, so there's no need to concern your pretty little head with that. Now name a sum that isn't unbearably stupid, and let's get on with this and start bartering.”
[classy=thoushalt][classy=thoushaltnot]
TAGS: kestrel
NOTES: a wild tsun post finally appears.
[/classy]
& nobody's left[classy=emphasishere] in the west[/classy]
Your party and your revolution Your grand designs and adorable dreams Your silverless palms and your list of demands For concessions the world doesn’t need Ah doomed youth, you’re too beautiful All your simplicities that you know they can’t see And everything’s different lately And it’s all exactly the same We know secrets and songs and temptation We know how things burn when you don’t watch the flame And the colours are hazy and faded The ideas given way to the names
wronged enough [classy=emphasishere]to be a punk[/classy] [classy=emphasishere]"[/classy]
“I’ll be glad to see one less animal floating around, but what you’re asking for is a dangerous proposition,” a wiser man would flatter or weedle. Kestrel speaks commandingly, and he stares far too intensely into her eyes, trying to intimidate her. His attempt might work better if he were in his gargoyle form, or for that matter, if he’d done any research at all on this woman and thus known not to waste his time even trying.
“I’ll need enough to make this information worth the risk, but I’m sure you’ve considered that. I suppose one thousand would be reasonable, provided you can promise me this won’t come back to bite me. If you can’t give me that guarantee, I’ll need fifteen hundred.”
The woman’s attractive enough, but he’s not distracted by that. The idea of watching the Were who interfered with one of his prior deals being torn apart has far more appeal than risking ruining this deal by flirting. Jarrod’s outside Kestrel’s sphere of influence, and far too risky a proposition for the man to try to handle himself. But he needn’t tell her that. No point in exposing information that might let her think she can try to haggle him down.
Entrepreneurs are simply those who understand that there is little difference between obstacle and opportunity and are able to turn both to their advantage
HIDDEN in plain sight is a modern-day supernatural noir game set in New York City and sprawling the rest of America. Magic is real, and so are angels, ghosts, gods, vampires, and witches. It doesn't matter if you believe in them, because they're coming for you either way.
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