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The Bar Scene

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  1. #1
    Richard Price's Avatar

    Call me Rich
    Presence
    (Dignified)
    Composure
    (Calm)
    Mantle
    (Volcanic Pressure & Ash)
    Richard Price

    His skin appears to take on a deep gray color with distinct parallel lines crossing his body, in what almost looks like scars but is much darker then his normal skin but as the same vertical lines connect the horizontal the brickwork pattern becomes clear. His elbows, knees, and hips seem to crack and creak as he moves and if he stretches one can swear they see the outlines of gears but they seem to be missing on second glance. His midsection bears a jagged and broken looking scar that looks as though it threatened to tear him in half, looking as thought stone had almost been chipped away.

    Was the attraction to the old time decor a sign that me may be up there in years and past the point of being hip? Rich would argue that was far from the case, considering the Shady Lady Saloon was one of Esquires top twenty-five bars in America, and was on the Playboy list of Bar’s We Love, making it one of the hottest spots in town. A few smooth words got Rich a seat in the lounging area, where he sat in an ornate red velvet chair

    Maybe this place isn't so bad.​The large lounging form thought as he settled in the seat, leaning back and raising his first drink of the night to his lips. The Chauffeur they called it, and on his first sip he could taste the espresso liqueur dance with the cognac and bitters, earning the drink a pleasant sigh of approval. As the alcohol entered his system he soon felt the gentle warmth flow through his body and urge his tense body to relax. He moved to cross a leg over his knee, using the now raising leg as a place to rest the base of his glass while it was in his hand as he noticed the ice tremble, but refused to let that ruin his night.


    Rich wore a pair of fitted dark navy denim jeans, with fashionable wear visible in a few spots which was paired with a simple black t-shirt tucked in, with a deep red sports coat. Accessorized with this came a gold chain, and watched with leather strap, diamond studs in his ears, and of course a killer pair of kicks.

    Following a day of unpacking, and reorganizing his new home the bar scene was a welcome change.


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  3. #2
    Fawkes's Avatar
    Presence
    (Distant)
    Rigid Mask
    Summer Mantle
    (Cloying metallic scent, pressure)
    Fawkes
    Mien Details:

    An expressionless humanoid with a sectioned doll-like exoskeleton of sand-blasted glass. He has glass eyes that move and blink, and his mouth moves enough to speak naturally without a speech impediment, but does not emote. Fawkes does have the same hair as his Mask escaping from cracks in his scalp. It is actually magnetized red sand; any facial hair (eyebrows, beard, eyelashes) have to be artificially applied by hand.
    Active Pledges:

    Mentorship - Seraphina (Exp. Summer Coronation)

    Renewal Required:

    Good Neighbours - John Doe (Exp. 04/07)
    Good Neighbours - Maxwell J. Pierce (Exp. 03/26)

    1
    PRE

    Fawkes chose to walk, listening as the panes of shops whispered against the force of traffic; the humming of the streetlamps sealing heat and energy; the screech of car windows whipping past with excited speed; the sighs of apertures to a better life, sealing away comfort as houses settled for the evening. Glass was always calling to him, and in a city it was never lonely.


    The jazz club held promises of live bands. Something about tangible music tugged at a memory, unfortunately it was snagged somewhere in the Hedge. The pattern of sound produced from pure inspiration always flowed through his construct like ether, making his head swim in a way almost as freeing as shedding his porcelain shell.


    Smoke tailed behind him before the bouncer insisted the habit be left in the ditch. Standing by the door, the mannequin took a snapshot of the exits and potential dangers. Fawkes visibly stiffened as his attention fell on the obvious Fae-touched man lounged on the bright red couch.


    If it was in his nature to praise fashion, he would have opened with a compliment on the Soldier's careful selection. Hell, it was an accomplishment for Fawkes to notice something so subjective. What was most important was the man's light. The manifestation of a Season was not always a guaranteed signal of one of the Lost, but the molten veins beneath the behemoth’s cracked, clay-like exterior radiate an aura of pressure. A storm of wrath.


    Fawkes was in the man's face before he noticed he had already crossed the threshold. "Can I sit here, sir?"

  4. #3
    M
    Maxwell J. Pierce

    It wasn't long before a grey-skinned, lithe Wizened in a crisp black suit bearing the plainness of Winter's grace about him showed up at the bar. He'd taken the time. The pants were pressed, the creases just so, his shoes polished to a shine - a Chatelaine with money had no reason to fail in the class department. It simply would not do.

    Wary eyes clocked two Lost, one he'd seen right at the tail end of the Coronation, one who -- holy shit, was this one powerful in the might of Summer. It gave him pause. It made him think a second before just moseying on up. One such as this, if he was not on the up and up, could be an incredible danger.

    He didn't interrupt. Rather, he found his way to the bar, ordering a drink first, sussing out the situation first...

    "An Old Fashioned, please..."

  5. #4
    Richard Price's Avatar

    Call me Rich
    Presence
    (Dignified)
    Composure
    (Calm)
    Mantle
    (Volcanic Pressure & Ash)
    Richard Price

    His skin appears to take on a deep gray color with distinct parallel lines crossing his body, in what almost looks like scars but is much darker then his normal skin but as the same vertical lines connect the horizontal the brickwork pattern becomes clear. His elbows, knees, and hips seem to crack and creak as he moves and if he stretches one can swear they see the outlines of gears but they seem to be missing on second glance. His midsection bears a jagged and broken looking scar that looks as though it threatened to tear him in half, looking as thought stone had almost been chipped away.

    A series of random articles containing anything from pop culture to news scrolled by on the screen of the deep red iphone XR cradled in his free hand, however his eyes were far from glued to the screen as a very blunt question hit him. The tone of the voice sounded almost indignant, which roused Rich’s blood Who does he think he is?

    The moment of boiling blood ceased as Rich looked up to find a very interesting man standing in front of him. The tweak of what could have been anger gone from the corner of his lips as smile replaced it followed by a twist into a smirk. At first he had thought he was just an ignorant local trying to pick a fight, but here in front of him was a bonafide member of the lost.

    ”Well, if you don’t mind sharing the couch with the lovely couple,” he motioned towards the couch that sat within a normal arms length of his own chair, which was one third occupied by a couple towards the opposite end, ”And I have never told someone they couldn’t sit on the floor - unless it would be disrespectful.” He added with small chuckle, and tipped his drink towards the…

    What is he even, darkling maybe? He got over here without me noticing, but I wasn’t exactly eyes up. Wizend is a possibility, a diminished personality would explain the dead pan that almost set me off. Elemental or fairest are a toss up. When it came to Changelings it was always a grab bag of what ones origin could be, it was about as far from science as it could be. However, there was one clear thing to Rich at least.

    He made sure to flair the blessing of summer, letting the hot arid pressure exude from him, solely as a response to the man. Rich was not sworn here, and had no idea what to expect from a random visitor, so when in doubt he spoke the universal language of mantle, letting the gifts of the iron spear speak for him.

    ”Richard, by the way. New to the area, are you a local?” He had shifted the phone to rest on his leg, and moved his drink from his dominant right hand to his left, extending his arm to offer the deadly serious man a handshake. It was at this moment that he felt a tickle on the back of his neck, a cool breeze. . .That wasn’t normal, not in California, and definitely not with his blessing out in full regalia. While unusual, Rich was oblivious to the breeze that had snuck in, filing the sensation away as more a curiosity than conspiracy.


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  7. #5
    Fawkes's Avatar
    Presence
    (Distant)
    Rigid Mask
    Summer Mantle
    (Cloying metallic scent, pressure)
    Fawkes
    Mien Details:

    An expressionless humanoid with a sectioned doll-like exoskeleton of sand-blasted glass. He has glass eyes that move and blink, and his mouth moves enough to speak naturally without a speech impediment, but does not emote. Fawkes does have the same hair as his Mask escaping from cracks in his scalp. It is actually magnetized red sand; any facial hair (eyebrows, beard, eyelashes) have to be artificially applied by hand.
    Active Pledges:

    Mentorship - Seraphina (Exp. Summer Coronation)

    Renewal Required:

    Good Neighbours - John Doe (Exp. 04/07)
    Good Neighbours - Maxwell J. Pierce (Exp. 03/26)

    1
    PRE

    Fawkes' eyes lit up as the man's connection to the Spear pressed against his own meager presence, flashing the image in the mind's eye that he was standing on the precipice of an active volcano. The smell of blood and iron punctuated the atmosphere, barely leaving space for the small sharp needle of frost.

    The couple noticed the shift in aura, no longer finding the proximity to the pair as comfortable as before. A quiet domestic arguement broke out between them as everyday frustrations and buried grudges bubbled to the surface with sudden vigor. The woman left in a huff, exasperated partner following silently after her as they settle the tab. The heat was already settling with distance, balance restoring as they excused themselves out the door.

    The Elemental gives a slight bow before sitting in the now empty chair indicated by his Court superior. A quirky gesture for the public, but not so obvious to draw the eye. He took a moment to order an Americano. “I go by Fawkes. Not native either, Sir. I've only met a handful of locals.” His tone remains flat and focused, expression barely shifting to accommodate his words as his bright blue gaze starts taking in details with a deeply ingrained distrust.

  8. #6
    A
    Abraham Norton

    It was random, really. A side-effect of the urban exploration, the discovery of this bar. Its mood felt rather unique to the Flowering, which was reason enough to pay a visit, drink a drink. Besides, the last toime he casually walked into a bar, he met the Queen of Summer and a human-sized bird of prey, Freya.

    Even with the taxing burden of doublespeak to hide from the mundane people, that is a strong promise of excitement.

    And the expectations don't fail the knight-errant. This place is teeming with fae - the strong Mantles of Summer, but also the peculiar visages of the men - one gray-skinned and with brickwork pattern on him, the other with a glass exoskeleton. And then, there was Maxwell. Drinking alone, no doubt grieving or spying... or both. After the recent altercation they had, Abraham can't imagine the Wizened spend time in his sole company, and so acknowledges the man with a "Mr. Pierce" and a nod, but does not linger for long.

    The pair is a different story.

    "Gentlemen" He says with mirth and ease "Don't suppose you want to turn this company of two into a crowd of three? I'm Abraham Norton, soldier and storyteller of the... Emerald club" Handshakes are offered. Let's see where this goes.

  9. #7
    M
    Maxwell J. Pierce

    "Mr. Norton."

    Maxwell nods back, but does not move from his position to join the other Lost. Rather, his drink appears. He sips it, gazing into the warm brown liquid. It was comforting. His therapist probably wouldn't approve.

    Still, his eyes occasionally find the unknown Fae every now and again. Whether it was out of curiosity or threat assessment was anybody's guess.

  10. #8
    S
    Strong King

    ”Well welcome to Sacramento, Fawkes. Here is hoping we didn’t make the wrong decision when we chose to move out here.” Rich offered up his own drink to have a small cheer with the odd lost who he still had not been able to pin the exact nature of. ”My first night here I sat back and realized my beloved Basketball team stayed in Los Angeles, so that will take some getting used to.”

    ”What is your take about the place so far? I had property out here for sometime before I really looked into the community. Knew there were folks here, but came off as transient. But I haven’t been dragged in front of any unsatisfied monarch yet, so at least I haven’t committed any cardinal sins.” A chuckle escaped the large man, as he shifted in his chair to sit up more, moving in a way that prevented his phone from falling.

    Sounds about right, first fair folk I run across and he’s new. Seems this could really be the revolving door they said it was back home. Let’s reserve judgement for now. It was while he listened to Fawkes’ thoughts on the matter that they were greeted by a third, the pressure of his mantle flaring for a moment again in response.

    Another newcomer had approached, this person had a more telling demeanor than Mr. Fawkes. Gave off the air of a fairest right out of the story book, but he could easily have been elemental too, he had met a few talking tree’s in his time. He glanced back over at Fawkes with a smirk, ”May have to take back that bit about being dragged in front of anyone.

    Rich leaned up taking the hand that was offered, and gave a very firm handshake with no intent to hurt or wince, but gave no impression of wilting. “Well if I scared everyone off before we shared a drink I may end up lonelier than I like. Pull up a chair, or I’m sure Mr. Fawkes here wouldn’t mind sharing the sofa,” he glanced back at his first guest, ”Isn’t that right? What are the lost without a little hospitality.”

    ”So, would you call yourself a local or are we batting three for three?” He asked Abraham as he joined them, still unaware for the Winter courtier who was scrying a glass at the bar.


  11. #9
    Richard Price's Avatar

    Call me Rich
    Presence
    (Dignified)
    Composure
    (Calm)
    Mantle
    (Volcanic Pressure & Ash)
    Richard Price

    His skin appears to take on a deep gray color with distinct parallel lines crossing his body, in what almost looks like scars but is much darker then his normal skin but as the same vertical lines connect the horizontal the brickwork pattern becomes clear. His elbows, knees, and hips seem to crack and creak as he moves and if he stretches one can swear they see the outlines of gears but they seem to be missing on second glance. His midsection bears a jagged and broken looking scar that looks as though it threatened to tear him in half, looking as thought stone had almost been chipped away.

    Wrong Account


    ”Well welcome to Sacramento, Fawkes. Here is hoping we didn’t make the wrong decision when we chose to move out here.” Rich offered up his own drink to have a small cheer with the odd lost who he still had not been able to pin the exact nature of. ”My first night here I sat back and realized my beloved Basketball team stayed in Los Angeles, so that will take some getting used to.”


    ”What is your take about the place so far? I had property out here for sometime before I really looked into the community. Knew there were folks here, but came off as transient. But I haven’t been dragged in front of any unsatisfied monarch yet, so at least I haven’t committed any cardinal sins.” A chuckle escaped the large man, as he shifted in his chair to sit up more, moving in a way that prevented his phone from falling.

    Sounds about right, first fair folk I run across and he’s new. Seems this could really be the revolving door they said it was back home. Let’s reserve judgement for now. It was while he listened to Fawkes’ thoughts on the matter that they were greeted by a third, the pressure of his mantle flaring for a moment again in response.

    Another newcomer had approached, this person had a more telling demeanor than Mr. Fawkes. Gave off the air of a fairest right out of the story book, but he could easily have been elemental too, he had met a few talking tree’s in his time. He glanced back over at Fawkes with a smirk, ”May have to take back that bit about being dragged in front of anyone.

    Rich leaned up taking the hand that was offered, and gave a very firm handshake with no intent to hurt or wince, but gave no impression of wilting. “Well if I scared everyone off before we shared a drink I may end up lonelier than I like. Pull up a chair, or I’m sure Mr. Fawkes here wouldn’t mind sharing the sofa,” he glanced back at his first guest, ”Isn’t that right? What are the lost without a little hospitality.”

    ”So, would you call yourself a local or are we batting three for three?” He asked Abraham as he joined them, still unaware for the Winter courtier who was scrying a glass at the bar.


  12. #10
    Fawkes's Avatar
    Presence
    (Distant)
    Rigid Mask
    Summer Mantle
    (Cloying metallic scent, pressure)
    Fawkes
    Mien Details:

    An expressionless humanoid with a sectioned doll-like exoskeleton of sand-blasted glass. He has glass eyes that move and blink, and his mouth moves enough to speak naturally without a speech impediment, but does not emote. Fawkes does have the same hair as his Mask escaping from cracks in his scalp. It is actually magnetized red sand; any facial hair (eyebrows, beard, eyelashes) have to be artificially applied by hand.
    Active Pledges:

    Mentorship - Seraphina (Exp. Summer Coronation)

    Renewal Required:

    Good Neighbours - John Doe (Exp. 04/07)
    Good Neighbours - Maxwell J. Pierce (Exp. 03/26)

    1
    PRE

    The smell could have been the man's mark of Arcadia, or just another manifestation of his devotion to the Antler Crown. Maybe he just liked perfume. Between the both of them, it was getting a bit overwhelming.

    What catches Fawkes' attention was the ghost of a melody manifesting around the Spring Courtier. He appears lost in it for a moment and almost misses the manicured hand presented to him. The mannequin grips Abraham's offered welcome once Rich is done. His hand locks, sockets clicking into place as the function of his form overtakes social niceties.

    "I like bards."

    Turning back to the Iron aristocrat, it takes another beat for Fawkes to remember to release the gentleman. "My take on the place? Our party is small, to the point where an NRA lobbyist claims she's the leader out of necessity. She's really stupid. A chameleon wants to have sex with her because he's lonely, and they hang out with a jester." He blinks at the new arrival, and then to the other smartly dressed gentleman at the bar, albeit not as loudly accessorized.

    "The jester is okay. Don't ask her to solve any philosophical questions."

    Getting out of his chair, he walks straight towards the final Lost that is clearly wishing to assess from a distance. Whatever interaction Abraham had protected Mr. Pierce from proceeded to be bulldozed by the human-shaped storm.

    Fawkes leans on the counter and stares at the quiet creature until it's too awkward to ignore.

    "There's room for four. I'd rather your company than someone mundane."

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