Fringe Elements

[Morgan Bellanar]

Morgan had dressed darkly for the evening in black khakis, a black longsleeve hoody, and black sneakers. Her presence might have gone unnoticed if it weren't for two things. First, the reflective safety vest that the "technician" insisted she wear. Second, people climbing up street lights to attach and adjust webcams tended to get stares. Even with all the race cars showing up. This was the last one and the man paying the traceur had figured out a better way to get the adjustments done. Leave Morgan up there and use hand signals to indicate if the angle needed to be adjusted up, down, left, right, or was fine. It was better then shouting over the crowd or risk the traceur falling during a climb.

With the final signal to stop, Morgan was done with work but spotted a few familiar figures in the crowd from her vantage point. She gave a wave, getting multiple back from the crowd, before she clambered down the pole head first, jumping off into a somersault to land upright near the bottom. She handed off the vest to the computer guy and then decided to see the loud cars up close. Hopefully no one would ask her if she raced or do something stupid like challenge her. The traceur wasn't sure if she'd forgotten or never learned but either way she couldn't drive cars.

Morgan wasn't sure if she should head over to Malcolm Green, who seemed to be in conversation, or towards Ramona who seemed to have the misfortune of being near someone she was certain was a certain stingy wasp. The arrival of a rather pretty car went unnoticed. At least until she almost collided into the driver . She bobbed her head in apology, rapidly blurting out: "Oh, eh-heh-heh, ssssorry sir. N-n-nice sedan-car, heh...eh."

It was then that she noticed what the man looked like. She didn't think he was a Fairest but damned if he couldn't have passed for one with ease. Morgan couldn't not stare at the handsome guy. It took a moment for her to notice this and looked down whilst blushing, "Um-uh-heh, sorry-sorry-sorry heh. Didn't mean to stare. Not-that-ye aren't worth staring at. Ye-totally-are...uh," She fidgeted with her hands before clasping them in front of her to stop. "Eh-heh-heh I think-k-k I'll j-just stop now ano-and say ssssorry for almost running into ye."

[Asa]

To some extent, the turnout was a disappointment.

Where were the supercars? At least a GT-R. Rumor had it, there was a Koenigsegg in the city, somewhere. And he knew for a fact that there was a at least one Ferrari. An auto aficionado he was not... but he did have a certain appreciation of pretty things. Eyes watched in amusement at the conversations forming, and one in particular. It had caught his eye with the white hot flare of anger, the hatred so deep that it could only be caused by another predator. A moment, then another, and he mastered the the desire to rend Vivian York limb from limb.

"Mon minou...," he laughed softly to himself.

And... the Grand Wyrm. Interesting.

Thoughts of David Regan having seen the show his new friend had put on gave way to the hustle and bustle of the event. There was another stunner in the crowd, but eyes took her in, then dismissed her. Everyone has a thing. Give a person long enough, and the pickier they got. One of his was noses, and for everything else that was exquisite about her... the nose simply bugged him.

Hash tag, #immortalproblems.

"Excuse..."

Whatever he was going to say was lost like a grain of sand on a beach of words and stutters from the little boy that bumped into him. Brows furrowed as he looked downward, revising his initial impression.

"I know I'm tall, but I'd prefer it if you didn't hang a camera on me," Asa answered when downpour of words became a sprinkle, then finally trickled away. A charming grin was flashed, an eyebrow lifted, punctuating the light teasing. He leaned forward, lowering his voice. "It's okay if you want to stare," he said softly and winked before straightening back up.

Just ask Vivian.

"I stared at you, too, when you climbed down that pole, so I suppose we're even, now?"

[Coco]

"No! No!" Coco protested loudly (was there any other way, amidst a concert) in mock horror at Vivian's assertion. "You have me painted all wrong my crimson siren, I am not so crass! It was as the Wanderer said, I meant it as a term of affection! The word for kitten and the word for pussy are entirely different in French! I believe! Isn't it so Wanderer? Or is it David?" Coco the shadow briefly, her attention flitting back to Vivian within the space of a few seconds. Indeed, if they were racing attention spans, Coco would only be beaten by Morgan that night.

"Anyways, what else was I supposed to say! You never gave me your name, so how was I to get your attention? And you never asked for mine. It's Coco, by the way," she finished in a faux huff, arms crossing, cane tucked under one armpit.

[Cameron]

It was novel really, how much death could change you. It was a sentiment he’d mulled over as the small, dark blue convertible drove towards prairie city. The dust, the noise; the veritable pulse of life called to him in a manner it never had whilst he’d still drawn breath.

I am a predator, it is a true statement. I love on the life of others. I don’t mean as a vampire, but as a person. Everyone around me is weight and measured for their usefulness. Some are useful as meat, to be fed upon, some are useful for their skills and some are useful for their loyalty. The man seated next to me, with his fearsome personage, is useful for several things. His countenance does make walking through groups of people helpful, they tend to part like the red sea when he approaches. Julian is a Principle and people make way for him in a similar fashion to students dodging the authority. It is a fringe benefit. But it is more than that. It certainly isn’t love or some such childish nonsense, love is for mortals. But I do appreciate him.

Perhaps he’d come to people-watch, to observe and exist vicariously through those who still maintained a pulse. Or, it may have been hunger which pushed him past the city limits - for even a Haunt could hunt freely and unnoticed in a crowd this distracted and intoxicated. Maybe it was nothing more than curiosity, stemming from a desire to find out what had caused such a buzz on the Streets.

As we come closer to this event that Julian invited me to I can’t help but feel a warmth of excitement. It is the Predator in me again. I am a wolf, being transported to a field of sheep and told to ‘Have fun’. The rumor mills were swirling about tonight from what Julian told me. I am not surprised that I didn’t hear about it from my people. Probably not something that the police are turned on too.

Not that any of the above were necessarily incompatible. He’d opted for casual, given the occasion. Dark jeans with an olive green henley, the warm flush of blood giving his pale skin the facade of life. Dull green eyes flicked lazily to his side, suppressing the involuntary shiver that the sight of his monochromatic companion brought forth. “Well, looks like tonight shouldn’t be dull, in any case”

“I would hope not, all the rumors swirling about tonight, something exciting should happen. Or it would be very disappointing to a great many people.” I say to him as I look to the lights in the distance. “Am I still unsettling to you dear Julian?” My words are smooth and refined in the question as we arrive. As Julian parks I look to him, awaiting an answer.

The question took him by surprise. Not only that, but his immediate reaction was that this was one of those questions where there was a decidedly right answer. "Unsettling? I wouldn't say that... Besides, I'm getting used to it Angel" he remarked pleasantly, a n awkward but genuine smile forming on his lips. They both knew that the curse wasn't something familiarity would ever truly quash, that his Priscus would never lose that surreal look. Taking a moment to compose his thoughts - he pulled his out his phone, showing Angel the message before responding.

"I saw Vivian not long ago, mentioned this was on tonight. Shall we go find her, or would you like to look around?"

-1V for Blush

Text to Vivian York

We just arrived. Where are you? Vivian York

[Aurora]

She was about to reply when the Mercedes pulled in. The car was nice enough, but that wasn’t what caught her attention. It was the dignified guy that stepped out.

It wasn’t usually looks that drew her in, but a guy’s presence, and man, did he have it.

Blue eyes look to his, and if she manages to catch his attention, she won’t break eye contact for a few seconds. But will instead, offer him a sly smile, before returning to the current conversation. After all, it would be rude to walk away now, but maybe Fate was on her side tonight and mister charismatic would come over.

If not, it would be his loss anyways.

“Nice, four sixty! I might have to try and get you to give me a ride in it sometime.” Was she flirting? Maybe.

“Not sure. Never raced her before, and I haven’t had the chance to tweak the engine to get more horsepower outta her.” Racing could be fun, but losing would suck.

“I’m Madison by the way.”

[Cabochard]

With all the bright lights and noise, it took Aryana a little while to notice all the people congregating about her and her Alpha. All rather attractive, all seemingly intelligent and interested in him. She approved. She turned her attention elsewhere, noticing the altercation between the small man and the much larger, more interesting one.

She shook her head, breaking herself out of that spell. It wasn't her right to actually do anything. She focused on the new woman, Madison. "Nice to meet you. Aryana." She held out her hand to shake.

[InvertedMonkey]

The brief wave that Vivian York tossed her way was returned with a nod, before focus was drawn elsewhere. Apparently Coco either hadn't noticed her, or was content to ignore her. Fine by me. She raises one hand and combs her fingers through her hair to settle it a little after a breeze kicks it up, and strides out in front of the orderly row of automotives, circling around the cluster of individuals around the Chevy to move past them. She gives a backwards glance to the convertible pulling in behind her modest truck, then continues onward.

Her pace slows as she starts to pass the Mercedes. It doesn't look like a racing vehicle exactly, but damn if it doesn't say 'luxury' clear and loud. She leans a little to maybe get a glance at the interiors, but doesn't stoop to snooping around the windows. Hey, there's Morgan. Standing before a guy that looks like he'd be equally at home at the head of the table in a board room or striding the red carpet with a starlet. I mean damn. They put guys like that on the covers of magazines. And oh god, Morgan looks like she's going to start twisting her body like a schoolgirl in a minute or two.

Both amused and sympathetic, she considers rescuing the Steepscrambler, but settles on just offering her a wave from behind Magazine Cover Guy, giving her an out if she wants one. In the meantime, she steps beyond the Mercedes, and pauses to admire the Corvette. Damn that's a pretty machine. With so much on display, at this rate, it's going to take her half an hour to just get to the stage. The idea brings a wry smile to her lips. There are worse ways to waste time than checking out a few great sets of wheels.

Origins