Fantasy CHICAGO | <Always Open!>

[Avari]

CHICAGO

CAST

James "Zach" Kaysen - The Obsessive Detective - Fire Element - By Avari
Marcus McAllister - A Journalist looking for his big break - Electric Element - By _Line 213
Warner MacGyver - A broken man, seeking purpose - Earth Element - By The_Omega_Effect
Belle Socorro - The Socialite with the mysterious past - Unknown Element - By peachuu
Jack Lynn - The Courier - Air Element - By Gravitational Force
Victoria Scarlett - The Femme Fatale - Ice Element - By . D O V E
Akito Shouen - The fiery weapon designer - Fire Element - By macrombie
Zeth Forssa - The Kind Vigilante - Ice Element - Prizzy Kriyze
Isabel Milo - The Talkative Detective's Assistant - Electric Element - thebigbadwolfy
Caelia "Angel" Angelucci - The Mob Boss's daughter - Electric Element - Shame
Elizabeth Westcott - The Butcher - Water Element - vielpotato




RULES

(Standard RP Etiquette is in effect. Obviously no controlling/attacking other characters without express permission.)
1. Please ensure every post you make has a title that includes: The character's name, your current location and - if applicable - who you are interacting with.
2. Please try to avoid having more than 3 characters in one location unless there's some crazy event. Things get messy. You have a whole city to explore.
3. While Chapter 1 is a Sandbox style RP, please don't do anything crazy. Keep things low-key. No exploding buildings.
4. Actions will always have consequences. You will not get away with Murder. Your character is not invincible.
5. Do have fun ​

IF I HAVEN'T DM'D YOU AT ANY POINT, PLEASE GIVE ME A POKE THANKS

LINKS
WIP


​

 

[Avari]

Our story begins in a city of broken dreams. Like many other cities in America, the City of Chicago is suffering from a unparalleled refugee crisis. The Great War has left much of Europe a desolate wasteland, and millions of lost souls have stepped on America's shores. Illegal Magic use is rampant, and the gulf between the rich and the poor widens with every passing day. Downtown is transforming into a No Man's Land of chaos, corruption and horror. Gold Wood, the land of Chicago's Elite has shut its gates completely to the outside world. Everyone is trying to survive in their own way - but it feels like it's only a matter of time before something has to give.

It may not feel like it yet, but your fate is tied to the fate of this City. You will form lasting friendships, and meet deadly foes. You will uncover the dark secrets that are festering in the shadows, and your actions will define your future.

The RP begins in the early evening, in the rapidly cooling autumn weather.

Please check the rules above before posting.​

 

[_Line 213]

Marcus McAllister
34th floor newsroom, Sentinel Building --> West City Chicago​

Tap tap, clack tick tap...

...With city aldermen against the move on the grounds that it would deplete funds currently set aside for encouraging fishing and shipping industries, it remains difficult to say whether or not the stalled refurbishment of the south-east factories will ever reach completion. The dock-working public remains unconcerned--save for safety concerns regarding several rusting wires on some of the cargo cranes--but factory personnel continue to ramp up the pressure, with workers of both stripes beginning to take sides with and against the Gold Wood lawmen. As far as this reporter is concerned, the real trouble brewing isn't between Gold Wood and the Docklands, but between the boaters, and those who build their boats.

"...Aaaand just like that, I am out of here." Marcus McAllister flicked the last page of his report from the typewriter, turning it over and slapping it down onto the upturned stack just next to him. His desk was unusually tidy for someone so jumpy, with notepads and pencils carefully aligned, spare paper neatly stacked and set in a tray, and his typewriter squarely center stage. He pulled the papers comprising his latest report together, aligning them lightly and sliding on a clip as one of the paper runners made her way down the aisle, before holding up the bundle to catch her attention.

"Marcie Marcie, take this over to Mister Mallory, will ya? It's closing time for me and as far as I know I haven't got the slightest bit've overtime coming," he asked, flashing a light grin. The runner shrugged, pulling the papers from Marcus's grasp with a roll of the eyes.

"You don't have to say that as if it isn't my job every time, if you're behind on something and don't want him to see you, just say so," she said with a shake of the head, walking off towards the fog-glass-and-wood-trim border at the edge of the room, the ever-present and somewhat imposing facade of the fiery editor's office.

Marcus's grin grew wider. "Doin' god's work, Marcie!" he called as she continued making her way down the aisle, stopping to collect the day's work from several other desks along the way. The reporter bounced from his seat, scooping his draped coat and hanging flat-cap from the back of his chair, quickly flicking the latter onto his head and hastily shuffling the former onto his body before grabbing his shoulder bag and heading towards the elevators, pace quickening as he went.

"Hold that! Hold it, hold it!" he called to several elevator riders as he turned the corner, just barely managing to slip in before the doors closed. A few moments of shuffling silence, and the packed lift emptied at the ground floor of the Sentinel Building, home to one of the city's greatest newspapers. As he and many other workers passed through the double doors and out onto the streets of the hub of Chi-town, Marcus pulled the collar of his coat up a bit, grumbling at uptick in windy cold absent from within the warm skyscraper. Several other workers streaming out of the building bumped into the boy, prompting him to continue walking instead of consider the weather. Shoving his hands into his pockets, he started towards the loop L, whistling for a few moments before realizing that it was just too cold for that. Then, he stopped, stomping his foot lightly as he was hit with a realization.

"...That's right, the gas is out 'till Thursday, god damn it," he said to himself, glancing over his shoulder as he let out a long sigh. Three days without being able to cook something was driving his mind mad and his pocketbook madder. Couldn't be helped, though, and it was going to be several more days still. He momentarily flipped out his wallet, picking through the few coins and fewer bills within, before quickly shoving the leather back into his coat, clutching it tightly with his pocketed hand as he changed direction slightly, milling about for something to eat instead.

 

[peachuu]

BELLE SOCORRO
"HELLO DARLING"
ScarletTears

How to describe this?

It was awkward possibly, or maybe Belle perhaps couldn't particularly understand the emotions spiralling within her system. Belle seemed to be labeled as this glamour girl that lived in a hidden flat, and surprisingly--no matter how hidden she tried to stay--lots of the people in Downtown had admired her. Her looks, her confidence, her voice--any details and tidbits that they could possibly pick up, they devoured in her "limelight." Usually she would like attention, but that was not the case today. Really she rather be inside, reading over the same old books she always had for that first year, yet a friend of hers encouraged she should go out and get some fresh air.

"Why must we go out today Harris?" She muttered, as the cab drove through downtown towards a particular bar--The Green Mill, as they put it. She was intrigued, for she didn't really go out much, but when she does it always warms her heart really.

"Madam, I assure this will be nice, however please be mindful of what you say tonight." Harris, her trusted butler spoke to her very concerned, and she swallowed that down harshly. "I know you are THE socialite, but we must be wary."

"I understand." She almost wanted to pout, but that was no good. Instead she plastered on another smile as the cab came to a hault. Harris came out first and opened the door for her, then as she stepped out, she recieved two or three wolf whistles her direction. She strutted, winking playfully at the men the other way, and then walking down to the bar. The place was lively, which couldn't help but make her smile. The people were laughing or singing along, or cheering amongst themselves. Harris followed behind her as Belle walked towards the barstools not far from the entrance. She sat down, and Harris stood nearby, watching over. There were a few performers singing some jazz, and she couldn't help but sing along with the melody. She adored music--possibly would have picked it up again if it weren't for the situation.

 

[Avari]

DETECTIVE JAMES KAYSEN

DOCKLANDS - INDIANA HARBOR​

September 1929.

It was a foggy night in the Indiana Harbor. The mood, jaundiced by the fumes of industry, reflected like a shimmering penny in the black sea of the channel, while the fog smothered silhouettes of warehouses stood out like tombstones against the night sky.

It was a cold night too, and Private Detective James Kaysen took a brief moment to flick out his thumb - causing a small but warm flame to merrily spark into existence. It bathed the area in a warm orange glow - a oasis of dim light in the cold dark night.

But for Kaysen, it was more about getting a better look at the body that was laying face down in front of him. A young adult male. Grey worksman clothes that had been stained black by the early evening showers that had recently passed over the docklands. The corpse itself was in a sorry state - its skin was mottled grey and blotchy, his eyes sunken into his skull as if it had been laying here, rotting for weeks.

“..and you’re completely sure he was alive yesterday?” Kaysen inquired of a burly man wearing similar - though distinctly less corpsey - work clothes, who was sitting a small distance away. He had been waiting quietly ever since the Detective had arrived - though he did occasionally dry retch onto the pavement. The smell coming from the corpse was quite...extraordinary so Kaysen gathered it was to be expected. His posture was one of defeat and his cap was discarded on the pavement beside him.

“Of course I’m bleedin’ sure!” The man insisted, looking distraught. “He was a mate! We had some drinks in the bar, then he said he hadda go - then I found him out ‘ere on my way home.”

Kaysen rose an eyebrow at the man. “Now...Simon...”

“It’s Steven!” Simon replied. Kaysen however waved him off as he gestured down at the corpse, his eyebrows in danger of disappearing into his hairline.

“But this is fascinating! I’ve never seen anything like this. What kind of magic could possibly render a body into this state of decay...?”

“His name was Guido,” Simon offered quietly. “He was an alright sort. For an Italian I mean. And...well I knew the cops wouldn’t care about some...dead refugee but. Well I heard about you. Y’know...After you helped out Mickey that time.”

Kaysen rolled his eyes and his hands plunged back into the corpse. “I didn’t help Mickey. Mickey got arrested for the actual murder If I recall. I didn't even get paid.”

“Well. yeah. But you figured it out didn’t ya?” Simon exclaimed.

The Detective seemed to be no longer listening. As he had ran his hands over the corpse’s grey hands - his fingers had simply sunk into the flesh as if it was jelly. The smell of rot was overwhelming. Simon promptly threw up on the pavement.

Kaysen glanced up at his partner - a woman who had been employed as his assistant for almost over a week now. She still hadn’t resigned.

That was a good sign.

“Isabel,” He announced brightly - though his smile was a little forced. “Would you be so kind to grab my notebook from my coat pocket? My hands seem to be stuck inside young Guido here.”


----


INTERACTION: thebigbadwolfy

 

[ScarletTears]

Joe Callahan
the Green Mill
Downtown Chicago
peachuu
​

Inside the Green Mill, a quiet day was already turning into a busy night. Joe had spent the day serving the same three old men who sat at a table in the corner, talking to them about this and that and generally wondering where all of his customers were. However, now the sun was setting, the bar was already starting to fill with people heading back to downtown from their workplaces in the docklands. Finally he was busy, moving from table to table, taking orders and collecting empty glasses. With the influx of people into the Green Mill, the bar started to take on a warm, friendly atmosphere.

On a little stage in the corner of the room, a man Joe only knew as Duke had taken a seat at the piano and was playing a catchy Jazz tune that he'd heard blaring from the radio for the last few weeks. Duke was a regular at the Green Mill and Joe had started paying the man's bar tab in exchange for a few songs. Later on, he might be joined by one of the girls who would sing a few tunes and have everyone in the bar singing along, but for now the music was quiet and relaxed. On his busiest nights, he was happy to find a band or a singer, but during the week, his regulars preferred atmosphere that they could talk and play cards in.

Returning to the bar, he picked up a damp rag from the shelf underneath the counter and wiped down the polished surface of the wood. It was early in the night, and already the strong drinks were starting to leave the surfaces sticky with residue which he was quick to clean off. The later it got, the rowdier his customers became. Now singing and laughing along to the music, none of them noticed when the well dressed lady walked in.

Joe stopped polishing the glass he’d picked up, setting it down on the bar and wandering over to where the lady had taken at seat at the bar and giving her a little smile. She was definitely the most interesting character he’d seen in the Green Mill in a while. “What can I get for you this evening Ma’am?” He asked politely with a little smile.

 

[peachuu]

BELLE SOCORRO
THE GREEN MILL (DOWNTOWN CHICAGO)
ScarletTears

"And...What a wonderful world that is!" She sung to herself, smiling a little as she looked at the performers. She was caught off guard when the Bartender finally approached her. Belle jumped back a bit, and Harris almost shuffled next to her to catch her, yet she simply giggled. "Oh my goodness I'm so sorry! I didn't notice you haha." She looked at the man--and my goodness, he had a smile that could kill. She always loved smiles on people, as she was told as a kid that smiles were the most beautiful thing about a person.

As if she were in a small trance, she shook herself out of it, and smiled softly. "Umm...What do you think I should have? I usually go for something light but, particularly today, I'm open to newer things." She beamed, brighter than a thousand suns. Harris was right; it was a good idea to come out of that cramped flat, though she had the strangest feeling sometimes.

She glanced around a little, as if she were being watched.

 

[thebigbadwolfy]

[div style=margin:auto;width:40%;]

[/div]

Isabel Milo
With James Kaysen • Docklands - Indiana Harbor​

[Div style=margin:auto;width:60%]Milo always liked the dark, and the cold, wet, and fog. Others found it frightening, disturbing, oppressing. She found it comforting, in the strangest way. Like there was some quiet force making enveloping you in a blanket. A safe haven that offered a soft silence, pierced by the sharp cold of rain. And then the occasional peek of stars behind those clouds, painted by a master hand.

Perhaps Milo only saw things that way because the dark, the cold, wet, and fog provided good cover for the criminal activity she participated in as a teenager. Yeah, that was definitely more like it. Still, the feeling remained. Which meant that when her and Kaysen were called out in the middle of this fine night, Milo was more than eager to get outside, swiftly snagging her coat on. Ah yes, a case! New Employee (soon to be Best Employee) Isabel Milo was itching to help people the way she had always desired to. And now, was also finally given the opportunity to.

But when she thought of "fix the city" she didn't think of sinking her fingers into a rotting corpse. A corpse that, someway, somehow, had decomposed at an unimaginably fast rate. The young assistant had been watching this whole exchange largely from the sidelines, then watched her boss crouch down to examine the body. There was no doubt it was a grizzly sight. Largely for the idea behind the killing, rather than the actual looks of the scene. Although, admittedly, one couldn't see much when their eyes were watering from the stench.

Milo shook herself out of her reverie, and nodded before snatching the book out of said coat pocket. "Would you like me to write, sir? Keep the flesh off the paper?" Surely in no other line of work would that be a legitimate question to ask. "And, if I can suggest something: if a human body decays best when it's both wet, and warm, perhaps this was the work of both a fire and water user? If we suspect foul play, that is. I don't know of any natural phenemenon in the area which would cause this. Or!" She paused for dramatic effect, the look of pure, stoic, seriousness never leaving her face, "we have a time travelling killer on our hands."

Avari [/div]

 

[Epiphany]

Anna Russo

WEST CITY - HOYNE STREET​

September 1929.

It was a foggy night in West Side too, in as much as the fog rolled in off Lake Michigan. Thankfully, the docks soaked up most of the industrial exhaust with the barriers of warehouses, homes and parks providing a much needed respite for the homes of the wealthy. Hoyne Street wasn't Gold Wood, but they were the people knocking on the doors so to speak. And sequestered in the long lanes of mansions lay the estate of the Russo Family. Publicly known as wealthy Italian importers, they were tolerated by other wealthy families as upstarts who jumped their way to fortune through clever business deals.

Less well known was their presence in Chicago's organized crime, leading the city in smuggling while maintaining an uneasy truce with the other prominent organized crime families.

Tucked into her coat, Anna slipped outside to take in the cold night air...and get some distance from her adoring family. So much culture, so much tradition and expectation in every interaction. Outside, on her own, she could clear her head and think of life without other people in it.

It also provided her with a good view of the gates at the far end of the mansion's property, opening to admit a delivery man. Anna straightened, brushed a lock of black hair out of her face and looked on with interest. Deliveries weren't infrequent at the Russo residence and she often signed for them. Besides which, it presented an opportunity for unchaperoned conversation. With an attentive set of parents, siblings and some of the made men for company, Anna had little privacy unless she left the Russo estate entirely. So an unexpected opportunity for conversation at home was exciting.

The long lane to the estate gave her ample opportunity to size up the courier making the delivery. And be sized up, though with her coat and scarf and eyeglasses, she looked far more ordinary than someone living at a mansion typically would be.

"Is that for us?" Anna's question was rather unnecessary, given the men who'd likely screened the courier at the gate. "Wonderful! I've been expecting it. What do we owe you?" She glanced at the man just arrived as he approached and asked "Hopefully your last delivery of the night? I expect it's rather late for you, isn't it?"

Gravitational Force

 

[Gravitational Force]

Jack Lynn
WEST CITY - HOYNE STREET:​

There are people who come up with good ideas. Like lying in wait in the alley of a wealthy neighborhood and hopefully catching some rich sod when he's too drunk to defend himself or remember who mugged him. And then there are bad ideas. Like trying to mug someone who doesn't look concerned when a knife is pulled on him and responds to a sneak attack by seeing it coming. In this case two street toughs decided that the best way to spring said ambush is with one of them yelling out-
"-Get him!"
Jack sidestepped the knife a street tough thrust at him, then with a blast of air and a raised leg sent him sprawling into the wall. Jack grabbed the knife out of mid air and held it out just in front of the second tough who'd been coming up behind him.

"Here's the thing: if you're aiming for a surprise attack from behind don't yell 'get him' when you do it. You might as well have sent me a telegraph telling me where you were. Now I've still got a ways to go tonight so I'll leave your friend with those bruises and you with this."
Jack drives his knee between the tough's legs and watches as he falls with tears in his eyes. Jack eyes the knife. "Not bad, I'm keeping this."

With a quick motion Jack's sailcloak unfurls and using his magic he leaps up to the 2nd story of a nearby building. From there he continues free-running, leaping whenever possible to save his energy. The wind in his hair, the adrenaline rushing through him, and the sight of the city below him, this was the life. Leaping from rooftop to rooftop gave him such a feeling of power and drive. It's the best thrill Jack's ever known, it made him feel truly alive!

Jack was glad this delivery wasn't in Gold Wood, because something was definitely going down. Lots of cash changing hands and the winds of change were blowing. People weren't talking about it, but people were whispering. Although sometimes it was shouting depending on how drunk they were, rotgut loosens tongues only slightly less easily than bowels. Hopefully Guido had managed to get home safe that night, he owed Jack $2 for the bar tab and gambling losses. He'd be good for it eventually, but debts between friends all too often turn sour.

The package in his satchel was definitely underworld related. Although it might be relating to an affair or unauthorized courtship. It wouldn't be the first time some rich bloke wanted to send his mistress or unrequited love-interest a present. Jack hadn't asked beyond the usual inquiry into how likely it would be that people would be interested in intercepting it and if it was time sensitive beyond the delivery time.

He'd started asking the second one after an anarchist cell had him deliver a time bomb to a bank. They'd paid him and nothing linked him to it so it wasn't like it was any skin off his nose. It hadn't even hit the news since the blast didn't kill anyone and just destroyed some paperwork. This delivery on the other hand was thankfully not ticking. Still, something set the back of Jack's neck tingling. Turning around, he thought he saw something out of the corner of his eye but there was nothing there. It definitely felt like he was being followed, but the person in question either didn't exist or was a master at hiding.

Jack finally arrived at his destination. It was his first delivery there and they'd said they'd meet him inside the gate. He didn't know whether or not he was supposed to announce himself, but in this case he'd err on the side of caution. A hop, skip, and jump sent him over the fence and well past the lane. All anyone on the ground would see was a shadow across the moon. Landing he saw the recipient. He crossed the latter two ideas off his mental list, he doubted anyone'd be pining for her. Not that she wasn't attractive (to him anyway), but she had the look of someone who's laughing at the rest of the world. He was the same, only he did it openly. It was the ones who kept it hidden who were the most dangerous, which meant she was much more than she appeared.

Not a cut-out (too plain), not a tough (nowhere near the brutishness and they were he far more often than she), and while far more open to women and nonwhites Chicago's underworld didn't yet have any women at the top. Although now that he thought about it if there were she'd be more likely to work through a male cut-out. But she was the one meeting him. So she was either overconfident (unlikely), incompetent (unlikely), a mid-level player (more likely), or he'd misjudged the situation because he'd tried to form a conclusion from too little evidence (most likely.) No matter what the answer was he had a delivery to make. But how should he put himself forward? Hmm, he'd play it cool and then go from there. People knew he liked to chat, so no suspicions would be aroused as long as he kept it that way.

Landing just in front of her, he proffered the package. "As requested and paid for in advance. It hadn't been specified, so I made it up here without alerting the staff manning the gates. It's not their fault, I'm just that good. If that wasn't the intent I apologize." Behind his protective goggles his eyes appraised her. He hadn't realized he had a type until now, but she definitely was his. Not that he'd try anything, everything was lined up to fail, but if circumstances were changed...
...
...No, stay on track Jack. Love at first sight was a particularly dangerous myth.

Epiphany

 

[. D O V E]

There is last refuge for the desperate and abandoned by justice.
Location: Chinatown, Downtown
Date: September, 1929
Tag/s: macrombie

The night was young and cold as a lonely feminine figure loomed over the streets of Chinatown underneath the inked sky of Chicago. Cold night breeze grazed her skin while her nose drowned in the familiar stench of poverty mixed with the smell of gunpowder. The woman, clad in an elegant black dress chimed with a white fur coat, stick out like a sore thumb against the poverty-stricken Downtown filled with refugees, beggars and petty criminals. The condition of the region continued to wilt in sync with the sudden blossom of numbers of its population. It's not just Downtown though, the whole Chicago is suffering and only time can tell when it'll metamorphose into an arena where only the strongest shall flourish. Perhaps, it already is.

The air turned warmer when she took a turn and came face-to-face with one of the few stately-looking buildings in the area. A noticeable sign hanged on the shop, saying: Shouen Smithing. The fragrance of fire, iron and steel grew more potent as the young female approached the store. She drew a deep breath before entering, "Good evening." came her polite greeting while her azure eyes scanned the room before it rested on a short-haired young female of Japanese descent.

"Victoria Scarlett," the sophisticated-looking woman revealed, pausing to flash a disarming smile, "I believe my order is done so I'm picking it up."

 

[macrombie]

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Name:: Akito Shouen 硝煙 秋人; Location:: Shouen Smithing, Chinatown, Downtown Chicago; Interacting:: Victoria Scarlett . D O V E ;​

.

Inside a room full of bright red and crimsons, a single silhouette of a woman stood, fingers covered in protective gloves, and eyes in goggles she peered at her newest creation with a speculative gaze. Sighing before making a decision, she put down the metal piece down, and made motions with her hand that released heated fire upon the soon-to-be elegant blade, ordered by someone living in Gold Wood for a hefty price.
With the confidence of someone who has obviously been doing this for a while, she lowered the hot blade in cold water and watched the steam and bubbles rise to the top.
Her mother then came into the blacksmithing room, soft brown eyes looking on her as if she was still a child, and with a cheerful smile she announced that it seemed that Akito was done. This was quite obviously not true, and she supposed that there was still work that needed to be done on the cavalry saber that was ordered (such as the intricate engravings the client wanted).
But at how her mother insisted, the younger woman decided that a break is nigh, and a customer was supposed to arrive soon regardless; so she did as she was told, and quickly took off the apron tied around her waist, instead opting for a rather masculine grey coat, which actually used to be her older brother's (before he gained a few pounds).
Walking towards the shopfront, where the desk was, Akito waited for about twenty minutes, knowing that soon a woman with the name of a queen was about to head in.
And there she was, dressed elegantly, as if it was a night out, was the unmistakabke curvature of a woman.
"Good evening," The woman greeted, to which Akito replied with a short bow, not too formal, but respectful enough.
"Victoria Scarlett, I believe my order is done so I'm picking it up."
Ah, so it was the revolver, Akito mused to herself before nodding and going out back and looking through the list of clients and what they ordered.
'Victoria Scarlett, blue steel, swing out cylinder, hand ejection revolver.'
'Six shot and accurate, typically this model would retail at about nine to ten dollars, but due to how new this gun is, it was to be sold for fifteen.'
Picking out the box with the firearm, Akito walked back front and layed it down, opening up the box. "This is a six shot, swing out cylinder, hand ejection revolver, and it would cost you a whole fifteen dollars" She opened up the cylinder of the gun and pointed at the six slots for the bullets, "So how many bullets do you need?" Akito asked briefly, but still with a polite tone.

.

'...someone has good taste...'​

[/div]

Spoiler: uncoded

Inside a room full of bright red and crimsons, a single silhouette of a woman stood, fingers covered in protective gloves, and eyes in goggles she peered at her newest creation with a speculative gaze. Sighing before making a decision, she put down the metal piece down, and made motions with her hand that released heated fire upon the soon-to-be elegant blade, ordered by someone living in Gold Wood for a hefty price.
With the confidence of someone who has obviously been doing this for a while, she lowered the hot blade in cold water and watched the steam and bubbles rise to the top.
Her mother then came into the blacksmithing room, soft brown eyes looking on her as if she was still a child, and with a cheerful smile she announced that it seemed that Akito was done. This was quite obviously not true, and she supposed that there was still work that needed to be done on the cavalry saber that was ordered (such as the intricate engravings the client wanted).
But at how her mother insisted, the younger woman decided that a break is nigh, and a customer was supposed to arrive soon regardless; so she did as she was told, and quickly took off the apron tied around her waist, instead opting for a rather masculine grey coat, which actually used to be her older brother's (before he gained a few pounds).
Walking towards the shopfront, where the desk was, Akito waited for about twenty minutes, knowing that soon a woman with the name of a queen was about to head in.
And there she was, dressed elegantly, as if it was a night out, was the unmistakabke curvature of a woman.
"Good evening," The woman greeted, to which Akito replied with a short bow, not too formal, but respectful enough.
"Victoria Scarlett, I believe my order is done so I'm picking it up."
Ah, so it was the revolver, Akito mused to herself before nodding and going out back and looking through the list of clients and what they ordered.
'Victoria Scarlett, blue steel, swing out cylinder, hand ejection revolver.'
'Six shot and accurate, typically this model would retail at about nine to ten dollars, but due to how new this gun is, it was to be sold for fifteen.'
Picking out the box with the firearm, Akito walked back front and layed it down, opening up the box. "This is a six shot, swing out cylinder, hand ejection revolver, and it would cost you a whole fifteen dollars" She opened up the cylinder of the gun and pointed at the six slots for the bullets, "So how many bullets do you need?" Akito asked briefly, but still with a polite tone.

 

[Avari]

DETECTIVE JAMES KAYSEN

DOCKLANDS - INDIANA HARBOR
​

“You’re a dame,” The detective beamed, and he asked Isabel to begin jotting down notes and a few basic sketches of the corpse. He took a moment to consider her initial hypothesis.

“Fire would have left some visible damage to the clothing...” Kaysen muttered, and there was a sickeningly wet squelch as he gently pulled his hands out of the jellied corpse. Simon dry retched again onto the pavement. “-and I suppose water could reduce a body to such a sorry state - but that would take months for...” He held up his hands to Isabel’s face, covered in grey gunk. Several lumps slipped and fell to the stone pavement with a wet thud.

“...this to happen.”

Kaysen wrinkled his nose as he considered for a moment. “Electricity?” he considered. “A significantly high voltage could perhaps reduce a body to mulch...but doesn’t explained the advanced decay. And again - there would be damage somewhere. Burnt clothing. Blackened flesh....”

He smiled at Isabel. They had only been working together a short time, but as green as she was, she had dealt with the demands of their line of work with quiet dignity and enthusiasm so far. Isabel would make a find detective herself someday, no doubt.

Then he gave a dry bark of laughter at Milo’s time travelling comment. “If it is, I’ll have to put my rates up!”

“Stop it...” A breathless breath whispered. Kaysen glanced around to see Guido’s friend, on his knees with sick staining the front of his grey uniform. But his meaty hands had tightened into fists. “Stop...joking. He was a good guy.”

“And now he’s dead,” Kaysen replied quietly. He glanced down at the body again. Young. Barely a kid really. Whole life in front of him - now taken away. It was a senseless waste, and one that even Kaysen could never truly understand. “But we’ll find out who did it. I assure you.”

The man sniffed. “Y-yeah. I know yer’ rates and stuff. Me and the boys will have a whip around. We’re good for the dollar.”

“Excellent.” The detective smirked as he renewed his inspection of Guido’s body - if only with more gentle care this time.

“My capable assistant here will ask you some questions. Perhaps uh...”

Kaysen waved at the corpse, and then at a metal bench roughly a hundred meters away, overlooking the lake. “It'll be better if you leave me to it."

---


INTERACTION thebigbadwolfy

 

[The_Omega_Effect]

Werner Geiger "Warner MacGyver" -----------------------------------------Outfit➣


Downtown ＝Warner's Earth Magic School ➡ Green Mill
The streets of Downtown in the city of Chicago were more vicious and unforgiving than ever before due to the influx of immigrants and refugees. It was obvious to anybody with any sort of intellect that forcing this many people of different cultures to live together in one area would lead to lots of violence and disorder. However, it was just Downtown anyway. Who cared about the people who suffered there? If they were in Downtown to begin with, it was not like they were important. At least that is how the higher classes saw those who weren't as fortunate. With his work taking him deep within Downtown in order to teach the ways of earth magic to those unfortunate enough to end up in there, he was quite used to violence whether it was somebody getting mugged or a fight breaking out. Sometimes it would be a fight between groups in a gang war fashion. These were no real battles in his eyes. It took nothing more than a mere siren or a person with competent magical understanding to step in for the idiots to immediately start scrambling for wherever their safe haven was. It did not matter how bad things got in the battlefronts back in Europe, as if you were assigned a battle you had to stand your ground and fight it until the end. The bitter, cold, end.

Werner had just finished a lesson in his school of magic. One of the students had to stay late, as he had a little bit more trouble moving the soil around than the other kids. He knew that teaching them the very basics of manipulating the Earth gave them reliable careers as security guards, farmers and even scholars if any of them were ambitious enough. But the main reason as to why he taught them was not because he cared about them. He was quite a cold person in fact. He was very irritable and rude to any stranger, with him not being any kinder to his students. He also did not do it for the money, as there was little monetary gain to speak of. He was teaching the poor who could not afford much so that was to be expected. The reason as to why Werner even taught anything within the run-down wooden building that he owned, was because it was a futile attempt by his subconscious to reclaim any remaining piece of his former identity as an instructor and a scholar. He himself never really thought that deeply. It was just something he did and something he did not mind doing.

He reached into the pocket of his coat to take out a flask that he kept his liquor in. He intended on drinking that night in order to pass the time, with him having work to do the day after. He did not mind the hangover, as the pain was nothing more than just another reminder that he was alive and not in a nightmare...unfortunately. He shook the flask, with the sound of the liquid indicating that it was barely more than half full. He wanted to keep some of it so as to have something to drink on demand, rather than eliminating that option for a later time. Fortunately, he knew a bar nearby where he could get drinks for a fair price. He also had some money to spare, meaning that he could get a few mugs of beer and walk home afterwards. His only wish at that point was the bar not being too crowded.

The weather was cold, with it being unforgiving to any individual who was unprepared for it in terms of the clothing. Werner could only imagine there being people who lived in the streets without the proper insulation from the heat. He merely shrugged at the thought, with him understanding that there was nothing he could do to alter their living status, leading to any worry or pity being next to meaningless to him. He himself was quite used to the cold as he never really had a house warmer come to his apartment. That did not mean that he froze at night. He was kept warm by the strange stone that he had excavated during the mining trip. For some reason, it gave off some faint heat that was enough for him to sleep at night.

After walking for a while, he finally arrived near the place. He looked at the palm of his right hand before entering, trying to make sure that he could confidently manipulate the rock to simulate an arm. Upon entering, he grabbed his hat and held it with one hand, him walking towards the bar slowly. The bar was slightly crowded and cozy. Werner saw this as annoying however, with him not enjoying the company of people in general. He sat down at the bar, setting his hand down and taking a deep breath. He reached for the glove on his hand with the intention of taking it off, with him hesitating to do so as he did not want his hand to be revealed as what it is. He tapped on the bar in order to get the attention of the barista, with him wanting to order. "I'd like a mug of beer. Dark if possible."

ScarletTears ​

 

[Epiphany]

Anna Russo

WEST CITY - HOYNE STREET​

September 1929.

Anna was used to receiving packages. One of the things that made the Russo family so successful was their use of intermediaries. Daughters accepting packages who could claim surprise and consternation if, under the eyes of the police, the contents ended up being something nefarious. Or made men handling business for underbosses, who handled business for the real decision makers. Anna knew her role to play, and she played it excellently because she understood the whole and not just her part.

The courier who appeared in front of her had the look of a man who likewise understood his part to play. Handsome in his way, confident but with a seeming capability that made the confidence justified instead of irritating.

"That's very good," she said, gaze lingering on him a moment before she dropped her scrutiny to the package. "This isn't the easiest place to reach, not without being announced. I don't think I recognize you, Mister...?"

She didn't know the man but a man who could make his way into the Russo estate was a man who could make it into other places. Handling Russo Family business was Father's job, in fact, and it'd be her younger brothers Joe and Alphonse who'd take over eventually. But one of the reasons she'd made it this long without being married out of the family was the usefulness of her magic...and the fact that she was sharper than anyone thought she was. Part of that meant noticing potential talent.

Granted, the courier might like an independent existence. Which was just as well, really, given Father didn't have much trust or use for anyone who wasn't demonstrably Italian. But associates of the Family could still be useful for the Family, and the patronage of the Russo's went a long way to raising a man's circumstances, especially in a city so flooded with a surplus of people, with so much competition for jobs.

Gravitational Force

 

[Gravitational Force]

Jack Lynn
WEST CITY - HOYNE STREET:​

Jack gives a friendly grin. "Jack Lynn, not that I expect it to be well-known. This is my first delivery to this address, but finding places isn't hard when you know Chicago as well as I do. For future reference, was I supposed to come in without the guards seeing? Not that it's their fault for not seeing me, but it's best not to show up men in their position unnecessarily. Is there anything more for tonight?"

That should do it, Jack thought to himself. Don't let anything slip he wouldn't to someone outside the know, keep back the 'Spring-Heeled Jack' name for now, and hint that while he easily got past the guards he wasn't overconfident about it. She's definitely looking at him inquisitively, her act wasn't convincing to someone who'd met Crazy Janey.
(The Mistress of the Sevens knew more about deception than any prostitute, assassin, or gambler. Which made sense since she'd been all three before taking up her current 'Mission.')

Epiphany

 

[. D O V E]

There is last refuge for the desperate and abandoned by justice.
Location: Chinatown, Downtown
Date: September, 1929
Tag/s: macrombie

"This is a six shot, swing out cylinder, hand ejection revolver, and it would cost you a whole fifteen dollars"

Victoria fished out a twenty-dollar bill from her purse, handing it to the other woman before taking the brand new gun from her hands with a courteous, "May I?" and a faint smile.

The revolver felt lighter than most handguns she has ever held; possibly because it was currently empty. The younger female examined the cold gun with an astonished expression, checking the trigger, revolving chamber and peeking at the gun barrel while keeping her composure. It was without a doubt that the blacksmith in front of her was truly gifted with hands that could create such fine weapons. No wonder a few acquaintances recommended the shop.

"So how many bullets do you need?"

Icy-blue eyes lingered on the gun for a few seconds before turning her gaze to the other woman, "Eight will do." she answered while adding three dollars to her payment. The streets of Chicago is no safe haven especially when the night sky would come rolling in. Everyone carries a weapon of any type with them and only a fool would make a mistake of not bringing one; unless they are confident with their magic.

Victoria returned the revolver to its box, "I take that your business is doing well." dainty fingers started tapping on the counter lightly as rosy-red lips curled upwards to form a smile, "A talented blacksmith such as yourself must have a substantial amount of orders coming your way these days. Perhaps you have a big order coming up, I hope I'm not interrupting anything." she gave the room a good look, as if admiring everything on display.

 

[macrombie]

[class name=macpicture] background-image: url(https://i.imgur.com/LnBhEuw.png); background-position: relative; border-radius: 90px; border: 2px solid #c11d4b; height: 150px; width: 150px; margin: auto; [/class] [class name=macbox] background: transparent; height: 250px; width: 350px; padding: 5px; margin: auto; [/class] [class name=macimg] background-image: url(https://i.imgur.com/aTNX7Mi.png); background-repeat: no-repeat; background-position: center; width: 340px; height: 130px; [/class] [class name=macimg2] background-image: url(https://i.imgur.com/VNVsMx9.png); background-repeat: no-repeat; background-position: center; width: 340px; height: 130px; [/class] [class name=macimg3] background-image: url(https://i.imgur.com/LAl56xZ.png); background-repeat: no-repeat; background-position: center; width: 340px; height: 130px; [/class] [div class=macpicture][/div][div class=macbox]

Name:: Akito Shouen 硝煙 秋人; Location:: Shouen Smithing, Chinatown, Downtown Chicago; Interacting:: Victoria Scarlett . D O V E ;​

.

In the rather dingy, but still surprisingly dignified weapons shop stood two women, both more dangerous than the darlings that they might seem to be.
And here it was that Akito Shouen smiled, looking at the graceful woman in front of her buying a weapon that much suits her. Victoria's looks of awe were much appreciated as Akito ducked down in order to fetch the woman her bullets, which tended to be lined up based on gun type under the counter, along with an assortiment of brass knuckles, small knives, and sharpening stones of extensive different amounts of grit. Akito placed the bullets on the counter, taking the bills the other woman handed, and writing down the transaction in the leather bound shop ledger.
"I take it that your business is doing well," Victoria had said, but before Akito could let out a mutter the other woman had continued.
"A talented blacksmith such as yourself must have a substantial amount of orders coming your way these days. Perhaps you have a big order coming up, I hope I'm not interrupting anything."
Akito nearly flushed under the compliments, but she had enough resolve not to crack under the kindness. Kindness was dangerous and she was taught to be weary of the cunning looking types, and women were especially notorious for trickery in this day and age.
"Please, Missus Victoria, a client is never an interruption." Akito chuckled and then finished with saying , "-but you see, that gun was not actually my piece, it was my father's, Takashi-sama's work."
"He is not in today," he was visiting her brother, "-nonetheless however, I do really appreciate your compliments to this establishment. Perhaps one day, you'll buy something my hands have crafted,"

.

'...get the bullets...'​

[/div]

Spoiler: uncoded

In the rather dingy, but still surprisingly dignified weapons shop stood two women, both more dangerous than the darlings that they might seem to be.
And here it was that Akito Shouen smiled, looking at the graceful woman in front of her buying a weapon that much suits her. Victoria's looks of awe were much appreciated as Akito ducked down in order to fetch the woman her bullets, which tended to be lined up based on gun type under the counter, along with an assortiment of brass knuckles, small knives, and sharpening stones of extensive different amounts of grit. Akito placed the bullets on the counter, taking the bills the other woman handed, and writing down the transaction in the leather bound shop ledger.
"I take it that your business is doing well," Victoria had said, but before Akito could let out a mutter the other woman had continued.
"A talented blacksmith such as yourself must have a substantial amount of orders coming your way these days. Perhaps you have a big order coming up, I hope I'm not interrupting anything."
Akito nearly flushed under the compliments, but she had enough resolve not to crack under the kindness. Kindness was dangerous and she was taught to be weary of the cunning looking types, and women were especially notorious for trickery in this day and age.
"Please, Missus Victoria, a client is never an interruption." Akito chuckled and then finished with saying , "-but you see, that gun was not actually my piece, it was my father's, Takashi-sama's work."
"He is not in today," he was visiting her brother, "-nonetheless however, I do really appreciate your compliments to this establishment. Perhaps one day, you'll buy something my hands have crafted,"

 

[peachuu]

BELLE SOCORRO
THE GREEN MILL (DOWNTOWN CHICAGO)
ScarletTears The_Omega_Effect
Belle waited for an answer from the man, however she was cut off by another person ordering something beforehand. Harrison noticed this, and partially wanted to tell the man that he had slightly jumped into a conversation, but then again what matter does it make? She huffed, playing with a lock of her everlastingly silky hair, and sort looked at the man. She always had a keen eye for things.

The man looked a bit melancholy and sullen--possibly over something tragic, and considering he was getting a strong beer, it is possible that it could have been something wrong. He was a much older man than her, maybe in his 40's if so much--although with the giant mustache being misleading. He seemed much taller than her too, probably two pairs of heels taller!

But his face--the emotion. She hated seeing people sad.

"Why not just get whiskey instead? It's much strong than what you're going for..." She giggled at the man, lightly covering her face with a gloved hand.

 

[The_Omega_Effect]

Werner Geiger "Warner MacGyver"-----------------------------------------Outfit➣

Downtown ＝ Green Mill
Werner looked at his hand while it was set on the counter. He tried to move the thumb but found the slight movements of it a bit too rough. He concentrated and grounded up the soil ever so slightly at the joints so as to make the finger feel more natural. His hypothesis was correct, with him smiling at how similar the human body was to earth and soil in general. It was only natural that a person returns to the earth in the end it seemed. Earth magic had a poetic meaning of sorts that related it to the very nature of life and death if you thought about it in a certain manner. However, it was no closer to the dealings of life and death than light magic. Werner had only seen a light user once within his lifetime a decade or two ago. A young child whose powers had just been found out. She was heavily protected and was not allowed to interact with any people for her safety. They were that rare and...valuable.

The fact that the bar was filled with people who weren't intellectuals combined with such people being under the influence of alcohol which lead to even more rash decisions, were things that Werner found to be a little annoying. But there was some comfort to be found with the relaxing tune that was played by the man on a piano. He was no big fan of music to begin with. His tastes however, were more attuned to the calming type of music rather than the ones played at celebrations and such that people dance to. He then noticed a very well dressed woman sitting a small distance away to the side of him. She was definitely a member of the higher class, the types of people who never set foot downtown, with West City being the furthest down they would go. It was a little interesting as to why she came all the way down here, with her being at obvious risk from mugging and such. She seemed to be the type of person who was pampered from birth, not a person who had to undergo strenuous training in order to improve their magical ability. That increased the chance of her getting robbed even more...But who was he to care? If anything, the type of people who would even resort to robbing her probably need the money much more than her.

"Why not just get whiskey instead? It's much strong than what you're going for..." He did not expect her to interact with him whatsoever, with him thinking that he looked more unapproachable than virtually every other person in the bar in terms of harshness. From just the type of person that she appeared to be, he really did not think that there was anything for him to gain from talking to this person. "Beer is cheaper." He said promptly. This was no different than his interactions with other people either, with him keeping his responses to a bare minimum in terms of words.

peachuu ​

 

[. D O V E]

There is last refuge for the desperate and abandoned by justice.
Location: Chinatown, Downtown [Shouen Smithing] -> Streets of Downtown
Date: September, 1929
Tag/s: macrombie -> Open for Interaction

Victoria shared a mannered chuckle with the short-haired woman, a gloved hand covering her mouth right before the other gave credits to her father for his masterpiece: the revolver which was now settled in its box peacefully. "Nevertheless, I believe that you are an outstanding blacksmith just as your father is."

"-nonetheless however, I do really appreciate your compliments to this establishment. Perhaps one day, you'll buy something my hands have crafted,"

The corner of her red lips curled upwards as another smile crept its way to her face although fetching dimples accompanied it unlike before, "I'll be waiting then." she responded while her hands busied themselves gathering her purchases and tucking them in her purse. "Thank you for the service and please tell your father that he did a wondrous job with the gun." and with that, she turned and walked to the door before briefly halting to glance at Akito through her shoulder, "We should drink a glass or two sometime when we get the chance." the female clothed with elegance proceeded to exit the shop.

The night sky was only growing darker and the icy wind brushed against her skin once more. It doesn't matter though, one of the few benefits of being her father's daughter is that she is in some ways impervious to the cold. The cold isn't the dreadful part of the night but instead the people lurking in the dark with their greed and desperation taking over their head; feasting on the demise of the innocents. Victoria has nothing to fear though.

A lonely feminine figure continued braving the streets of Downtown, Chicago; clad in a dark dress, thick fur coat and an even thicker & darker shroud of mystery.

 

[_Line 213]

Marcus McAllister
West City --> Downtown
Interaction: . D O V E


​

Everywhere Marcus looked, he saw food far too rich for his blood. But, then again, that was the upper portion of West City for you.

"...What was I thinking anyway," he murmured to himself; hungry or not, he knew better than to look around his workplace for food, especially with his apartment stove out of commission. If he was going to survive for several more days solely on what he had, the reporter was going to have to do a little better than that.

Shaking his head, Marcus resigned himself to getting something in the midst of downtown anyway; maybe something a short walk away from his apartment would suffice; it might be a little difficult to find something that wasn't just soup, but it wasn't as if he was in a position to really consider that sort of thing anyway. Turning around, Marcus began making his way back to the train lines, the thundering of cars over tracks echoing off in the distance as he drew nearer. It wasn't his train, thankfully, but it did mean that there would be a fair wait at the platform either way, especially the above-street platforms. He climbed the stairs quickly, hands still clenched in his pockets in an attempt to steel himself against the constant cold. He paid his fare and slipped through one of the polished turnstiles, the simple sight of such a thing being an oddly out-of-place element in Marcus's home district.

The wait and the train-ride home was something of a blur; Marcus drifted in and out of sleep as the fatigue of the day's work finally caught up with him. It was getting harder and harder to remain energetic as the winter continued approaching, perhaps on account of the cold. He reminded himself in the midst of his on-and-off sleep that he'd need to get those holes in his gloves patched, his heavy coat re-lined, and his winter boots out of the closet.

One of the many familiar jerks as the train arrived at yet another platform spurred him from his sleep; a quick glance to the window, and the familiar view of Downtown's battered rooftops greeted him. A few more stops, right? He thought, glancing briefly towards the station sign. Yeah. He pulled at his coat a bit, then rubbed the sides of his face to wake himself up somewhat; at least it was warm on the train.

That fact of course became a problem all on its own once Marcus stepped off the platform and into the cold once more, having failed to prepare himself for the shock of the city's true weather. It woke him up, even so, but it wasn't something that he was particularly happy about. Though it was buttoned already, he pulled his coat around himself, as if hoping that the motion would somehow tighten it, before quickly making his way off of the elevated platform, metal scraping against metal as he pushed through the rusted turnstile, the station as a whole a dilapidated mirror of its West City counterparts. Shoes clapped against metal staircase with rhythmic precision as he made his way to the street, quickening his pace as he stared at the ground, glancing up every so often to take stock of where he was, as well as whether or not there was any food to be had; it was getting more and more difficult to find a decent open shop in this part of town, considering the lack of money going around--

The reporter was rudely snapped from his thoughts as he checked the shoulder of another passerby, stumbling and nearly meeting the cold ground as he pulled himself back to his senses; hopefully their legs hadn't gotten too tangled up either, else a fall might have been a possibility. "Ah Christ, I'm sorry about that, are you alright lady? Didn't drop anything, did ya?" he asked, immediately switching gears into quick speech as he turned around.

 

[Avari]

MUSEUM OF ELEMENTS - CURATOR'S OFFICE
WEST CITY


​

“It’s bloody nonsense Jeremy. Insanity.”

Professor Matthew H Spreadbury sat behind his desk in his office on the highest floor of the Museum of Elements, phone jammed to the side of his podgy head. Rain was pounding against his windows and seemed determined to prolong his headache as long as possible. Occasionally, a distant ominous rumble of thunder would make the professor wince.

“Matthew. Calm yourself - it’s only for one day. It’ll be good for business.”

“Putting the Moonstone on public display...” He grumbled, angrily stabbing his cigar into his desk. “It should be going straight to the Chicago University. The dangers of putting such a thing - “

“It's perfectly safe. Matthew, you’ve seen the amount of extra security the Museum is getting did you not? It’ll be more secure than Gold Wood itself I dare say. It’s only for a day. I thought you’d be excited for such a opportunity.”

Spreadbury clicked his tongue. “My professional curiosity is severely diminished by the damn stress this stone is putting on my heart.”

The man on the phone gave a polite chuckle. “But you will do it?”

“Too bloody late to change plans now. We’re tripling the entrance fees to the Museum on the day of course. Keep the riff-raff out.”

“Naturally. You can expect the stone to be delivered tomorrow night as agreed, for display the following day.”

The professor lent back in his chair as he sighed. “And then it’s taken to the University?”

“But of course. I’ve been informed that the University has a surprisingly impressive vault. It will be quite safe.”

“I hope so, Jeremy. I hope so.”

“You will have your first security detail arriving first thing tomorrow Matthew. Now I really must go - Good night.”

Spreadbury threw down the receiver and glanced out the window - the skyline of Chicago hidden in the grey murk and rain.

He really should have retired years ago.

 

[. D O V E]

There is last refuge for the desperate and abandoned by justice.
Location: Downtown
Date: September, 1929
Tag/s: _Line 213

The sudden surge to her shoulder jolted Victoria causing her to stumble backwards before her heels sold her out to the ground roughly. A wince came quickly after as she tried to move her right leg.

"Ah Christ, I'm sorry about that, are you alright lady? Didn't drop anything, did ya?"

The female slowly raised her head, finding herself locking eyes with a young man with bright ginger-colored hair and blue eyes with different hue as hers. There was a few seconds of silence as the dark-haired pushed herself from the clammy soil which stained her black dress; trying hard not to groan from the pain her ankle is giving her.

"I must have twisted my ankle." vulnerability laced her words while she tried to totter over to her purse which was resting on the ground by the stranger's shoe. The action proved to be a poor choice when she began wobbling and ended up holding unto the man, who caused her demise, for balance. An embarrassed smile crept its way to her features.

However, the clouds above them started sending down droplets of light rain to the menacing city of Downtown. Looking at the direction of West City which was currently being bombarded with growling thunders, it would seem like the rain would only get heavier soon.

 

[_Line 213]

Marcus McAllister
Downtown
Interaction: . D O V E


​

Oh, now you've done it, Marcus thought to himself, inner embarrassment made clear by his briefly pursed lips; not only did he go ahead and knock someone over, he also managed to completely throw away any time to eat that he might have had before. It wasn't as if he could just walk away at that point anyway. As the two blue gazes locked, a bit of nervousness wrote its way onto Marcus's face; for some reason, he had the feeling that he had barreled into someone important, even if he had no idea who she actually was. She certainly didn't seem like the sort of person that would be caught dead in the midst of downtown, even with the newly made stains present on her dress.

"Wait hold on, lemme--" before he could caution the woman not to walk, she had already stumbled towards her purse, and eventually onto him. Marcus shuffled his stance as quickly as he could, just barely managing to hold the two of them up as she jolted into his arms; if he wasn't red enough, the boy became quite a bit redder as the silence continued, continued embarrassment stifling his tongue for several moments more.

The reporter finally moved to speak, yet before he could, the claps of clouds looming over the west caught his attention, and seemingly hers, too. He quickly glanced back to her; what a moment this was turning out to be.

"...Well, at least you're still lookin' warm in that coat'a yours, warmer than me, anyway," he quipped smiling slightly in an attempt to bring a bit of humor into his painful blunder, "never thought I'd say this, but I sure hope y'live around here, rain sounds pretty close, and uh...Doesn't seem like you're gonna be goin' anywhere fast. Sorry about that, and all." He glanced down, quietly staring at the woman's purse. Fancy like the rest of her. To him, at least. Turning his eyes back to their lighter, icy mirrors, he flashed a sheepish grin. "We're gonna have to bend down together to get that purse back to ya. Bit of an operation, that is. Bend down slow, alright?"