Amethysta
Amethysta
The year is 140 AD. The Romans control the kingdom of Brittania, and the settlement of Londinium -- their capital, fort, and major trade city -- is about to reach its zenith. In an attempt to please the new emperor Antoninus, the Romans of Britannia seek to expand their reaches and encourage healthy commerce in their capital city.
But one thing stands against them. The area's original natives - a mysterious people with honey-brown eyes and slender fingers - still roam the area. The locals whisper in hushed voices of their strong brews and strange magics. Strangely beautiful, decidedly stubborn, and dangerous when threatened, they are widely feared by the Roman settlers. Though they are usually benevolent folk when left alone, they see the Roman encroachment on their territory as a threat, and begin to retaliate. Roman officials believe that if the province is to expand comfortably, these mystic faerie folk must be eliminated.
A Roman official named Gaius Galerius is given the task of driving the faeries from the area. The young Roman makes his way through the ranks of faerie, earning their trust until he is given an audience with the queen herself: the beautiful but elusive Edanna. Upon speaking with her, he realizes that the faerie also seek an end to conflict -- and so, remembering that faerie-folk are bound to their word, he draws up a compromise: as long as the faerie folk are never seen again in London, they will be provided with 100,000 acres of fertile land. After agreeing to the plan, the faeries discover quickly that they have been deceived: the abundant land that they have been promised was, in fact, a small meadow -- the Romans had bequeathed to them a plot 100,000 acres deep. Long suspect of such foul play, the faeries had also left themselves a loophole: as long as they were not seen, they could remain in ancient London, and so they continued to roam the streets of the province, using their magical glamour to disguise their honey-colored eyes, masquerading as ordinary humans. The faerie folk cling to the hope that somehow they might reverse the unfair agreement. This can only happen in one of two ways: the last descendant of the dishonest Roman (who went into hiding soon after driving his bargain) dies; or a new agreement is made between the two parties.
Fast forward 1,870 years. Present-day London: the commercial and cultural center of the Isles. Hundreds of years of history survive alongside the hip, urban vibe of the European youth. But beneath that glossy veneer, there are two bands of outsiders... two groups of stragglers, who, in the right lighting, have honey-brown eyes and long, graceful fingers. Who can't hold down a steady job because they don't have an address or a legal name, because a thousand-year old curse deprives them of an identity. One band of faeries, the Seelie Court, are ready for forgive the human race. They intermingle in human society as much as they can without revealing their otherworldly identities, taking whatever job they can manage to hold down without too many people asking questions. The Unseelie Court, however, make their homes in the back-holes of the London Underground, living indulgent lives by means of stolen identities and black-market trading: they are far less sympathetic to the average human.
But suddenly, the tables are turned. On one October afternoon, both faerie courts sense a presence that could fulfill a prophecy. After thousands of years, an heir of the original deceiver -- a direct descendant of Galerius -- has arrived in London. The Seelie court wants to find him and set things right. The Unseelies would rather do it a bit more cleanly, as it's much easier to bargain with a dead man. From here, it's just a race to find that fated human...
Amethysta
Seelies
Elurra Gwyn. Elune-Adore
Jack Ferguson. Amethysta.
Bridget Cavanaugh. Wilted Flower.
Merrick Lynn. anekochan.
Unseelies
Jason Riley. Ookami Aya.
Addison Cynthia White. XxangelxdevilxX
Zellar Daemius. WaltzWithVampires.
Bliette. LadyMarcy.
Human
Titania Marie Mayfair. Parthenia Derelict
Hadyn Afon Griffith. 5 o r r e l.
Amethysta
Amethysta
Aaaaand it's open! 
*snips ribbon*
*snips ribbon* Elune-Adore
Take a sprinkling of fairy dust,
An angel's single feather
An angel's single feather
•Elürra Gwyn•
A short girl pulled flowing and silky dresses from a box by her stand. Her long, curling hair twisted frantically around her face as she hurried to get her area tidied and sorted for opening time. Eyes frantic and face flushed, she tenderly lifted her newest works from a water proof basin. She stared at her dresses with pride emanating off her. She had basically no life because of these dresses, but to her they were basically her children. She spent hours a day trying to get every part of them just right; perfectly suited to the over all work.
Hanging the dresses up she took close looks at everyone of them, noticing their perfections, but also noticing their flaws; the things she would have changed that very second if she had the material with her to do so. But, seeing as she did not have enough extra material on her, she hung up the dresses, and put out her ordering book. She had thought of the book recently, so people could write their sizes and likes so she could make them their own perfect dress; of course she didn't let them make all the choices, because her dresses had to be exactly how she wanted them, but they could give specific sizes and the general color layout and style.
The faerie stopped short when she saw a dress unfamiliar to her. All her dresses were dear to her, and she could spot out someone else's work as easily as a mother could tell a child was not her own. She stared at the intruder, her eyes wide with confusion. It was pretty, but nothing like the dresses she made. It was a deliciously pink dress, which ran to the knee. It had a feathery cut at the bottom with a billowy material not unlike her own. There was a sweet white bow tying around the waist, and landing in the back. She ran her fingers along it, studying the details of the strawberries, and the way the material ran over her fingers. Her fingers eventually hit something that felt wrong, something papery feeling. Tucked within the neck of the dress was a note, written in a familiar handwriting. It read:
Midnight, tonight. Peter Pan in Kensington Gardens. Do come alone, but take care. The heir is in London.
The girl's lips spread into an easy smile, and she tucked her dress back into her box, to take home. She would wear it tonight, for she rather enjoyed the feel of it on her skin. She hung up the last of her dresses, and waited for her first customer to arrive.
xp a n d i k u n3
Λםםιsσи Ͼчитнια Шнιтє
Why, oh why did it have to be so hot in London? Addison heaved a heavy sigh, tilting her head back to allow her side bangs to fall away from her forehead as she dismissively glanced over the pool again to check up on the humans. Even in the air-conditioned swimming pool room it was burning, and the Unseelie dreaded even walking outside to merely catch a cab or perhaps, if she called Kyle a few minutes before she got off, hitch a ride with Kyle to any random place they pleased for an early dinner. Sighing again as she limply waved her hand at her considerably thin face for some cool air, Addison used her free hand to gently take the front of her baggy, translucent white tank top and bring it away from her body and then back to create some wind for herself. Even in the outfit she was wearing – the loose tank top over her thinly-strapped bright red swimsuit labeled “LIFEGUARD” in big white letters on the back – the faerie was sweltering, and couldn’t imagine any place in the whole city she might be able to escape from the heat to. Except Kyle’s apartment, of course…but then she might get…distracted.
Biting her bottom lip and failing at concealing a little smile as little mental images of Kyle with his many different expressions flashed through her head, the faerie distracted herself by glancing at the large wall clock on the opposite side of the pool. Maybe Kyle did bring her luck, because it was time to go. Cheerily picking up the lifeguard whistle hanging around her neck on a silky red ribbon, Addison blew long and gently, signaling to the humans that visited regularly that time was up and they should get their butts out of there as soon as possible. It only took the Langham Health & Fitness Club members around two minutes to file out, and the twenty-four-year-old Unseelie practically leaped into the pool in joy when the room was finally empty. No, she didn’t hate her job…but she didn’t love it, either. The only reason Addison even stayed a part-time lifeguard at the heath club was because it prevented her from getting boozed up when it wasn’t necessary to be so. Not that there was any good time to be drunk and ditsy, that is.
The faerie sprung out of her plastic white chair and intertwined her long fingers with one another, locking them together as she stretched her arms upward and contentedly stretched. Sitting in a plastic chair for more than three hours was far too long for anybody to stand. Addison made her way around the perimeter of the pool to the staff locker rooms, and entered the one with the neat wooden “WOMENS – STAFF ONLY” engraved sign attached, somehow, to the door. There was no one in the locker room, as expected. Natalie, the only other female lifeguard of the fitness club, had taken her rightful leave as Addison had arrived, and was probably off reading books or studying for some kind of college preparation test in some elite program she was part of. Natalie actually put forth one hundred percent of her efforts in life, and was studying to go to Oxford.
‘Natalie’s young,’ Addison always thought to herself when she saw the thin, dark-haired girl briskly walk by, a book constantly tucked under an arm. ‘Soon, she’ll realize that effort is not needed in life.’ Or at least that was how Addison looked at it as.
The Unseelie took off her tank top and lightly tossed it in her open gray drawstring bag that was sitting atop her spacious cubby-like locker as she walked past it, and removed her swimsuit before showering and shampooing and conditioning her hair. She got out of the showers a few minutes after, and wrapped a plush white towel around her body, fixing it in the front so that it’d stay put before retrieving a brush from her bag and walking over to the large mirror in the bathroom. The staff bathrooms were quite clean, as no one really went into the locker rooms. Addison watched herself in the mirror as she brushed and blow-dried her hair, wincing every so often when her arm got a little tired and brought the stainless steel closer to her hair. The faerie’s shaggily-styled light-brown hair reached halfway between her shoulders and crooks of her elbows, and once it was dry, voila. Addison looked like a punk. But when she brushed her bangs and sprayed some hairspray here and there…perfect.
After admiring her own beauty in the mirror for a minute more, Addison chuckled to herself and dressed herself with a fresh pair of undergarments and faded jean short-shorts and a plain white camisole. Yes, the faerie was one of those people who could pull off anything, even designer runway outfits. Not that she owned any, though. She was just about to lock up and leave the locker rooms when suddenly, there was a sharp jabbing pain in her foot.
“Ouch, damnit!” she hissed to no one in particular, and looked down to see a little note tucked into one of her flip flops. Irritably, the faerie stooped down and picked up the scrap piece of paper, thinking that it was one of the male lifeguards who’d written a love note asking her out.
“I thought I already told them about Ky…” drifting off just when she started to say her boyfriend’s name, Addison read the note and discovered that it wasn’t signed by anyone. And that the topic was completely off track.
In chicken-scratch handwriting read:
‘The filthiest bloodline of all has returned to London. Be there by midnight if you'd like a drink -- bar closes early tonight. THE BARON'S ARMS PUB AND RESTAURANT. 942 Bentham Hill, London, SW2 1HE’
Smirking as she crumpled up the note and stuffed it into her right pocket, Addison shouldered the drawstring bag and went through the ending-of-the-day routine, locking up and shutting down, only much faster. Why, she couldn’t wait to get her hands on that filthy human...but, at the moment, the faerie guessed, she still had time. Lots of time. To do lots of stuff. With lots of people. But the only person she was thinking of at the moment was Kyle. Flipping open her cell phone and putting it on speaker phone as she speed-dialed the boyfriend so that her mind wouldn't spin while she was talking, Addison grinned as Kyle picked up on the first ring. Caller ID.
"Hey."
"Hey, sweetie. Mind picking me up? I'm at the fitness club and the day's over for me..."
"Be right there."
υиsєєLιє
anekochan
Wheezing Fatcat
• Mεɾɾick Lyɴɴ•
Merrick jerked awake, startled from his slumber by the sound of his dog barking hardly an inch from his ear. He just barely managed to keep himself from rolling off the futon couch that served as a bed, shooting the white Akita a glare.
“I’m quite awake, thank you.” he said with a scowl, dragging himself back up onto the bed. The dog barked again, curled tail wagging as he [pranced from the bed to the door and then back again.
“Let me wake up first.” Merrick grumbled, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and lazily scratching his belly as he stood up. He stretched his arms above his head, grunting as he felt his back pop in several places. It was in the mornings that he felt most like the humans who inhabited the world around him, when his limbs were achy and his eyes heavy with sleep. He savored the feeling, knowing it would wear off as soon as he started moving about more. It was more a learned habit than an actual feeling, this humanness, much like the accent that flavored his words, but one would expect to pick up some habits like that after living with humans for as long as he had been.
A high pitched whine from Puck roused him from his reverie, a smile playing on his lips as he turned to give the creature an affectionate pat on the head.
“Alright, boy, alright, I get it, I’m hurrying.”
Another yawn escaped him as he went to fetch his shoes, running his long, graceful fingers through his tousled black hair in a gesture that severed to make it more messy than smooth it like he had intended. Puck waited expectantly by the door, tail thumping against the ground, head tilted to the side as he watched Merrick sifting through his semi-messy apartment for a shirt and his coat. Finally dressed, Merrick opened the door, following Puck out onto the landing and down the stairs.
The walk to his Tuesday job was by far his least favorite, as it took him through a part of town he could sense housed the slinking forms of Unseelie Fae, lurking in the shadows of the many bars and pubs. The smell of human cigarette smoke was sickening, as was the smell of alcohol, though he had to admit that the perfume of hookers was appealing, if a little strong.
Finally he made the turn that lead to the Winds of Fae, waving to a few regulars sitting outside, the blue eyes he glamoured so well shining with friendliness and good humor.
“Morning Ralphie.” he called to the red haired man who always, no matter how early Merrick left, got there before him. Ralphie nodded his greeting, knowing it would be pointless to ask how Merrick was as the man tended only to give one word answers, if he answered at all.
“Miss Wheathersby’s been waiting all morning for you to get here.”
The woman who spoke was lithe and attractive, the flowing material of her indie-grunge skirt flowing enticingly about her legs as she came around the counter to talk to Merrick.
“Says you’re the only one who makes her coffee right. Take care of that, ey?”
Merrick nodded, tying on his tired old apron and turning to the coffee machine. His brow furrowed as he noticed something out of the ordinary; a sapphire blue mug sat square in the middle of the mug rack, standing out starkly against the black mugs their coffee house used. He looked about him, wondering if anyone else had spotted it or perhaps put it there for a reason. It seemed no one else had noticed it.
Odd.
He carefully picked it up, noticing something even odder as he inspected it. A note lay curled neatly inside, the distinct feel of Fae saturating it, his fingers tingling as he removed it and carefully, secretly, unrolled it.
Midnighjt, tonight. Peter Pan in Kensington Gardens. Do come alone, but take care. The heir is in London.
His eyes widened. The heir? In London? He summoned Puck with a snap of his fingers, tucking the note back into the mug and handing the thing over t the dog who carried it in his teeth over to the hair-covered pillow he always occupied in the corner. This was big news, bigger than big news, enormous news! The heir . . .
He turned back to making Miss Wheathersby’s coffee, his mind racing. He had a feeling today was going to pass very, very slowly.
Wilted Flower
Bridget Cavanaugh 
"Oh, come on, you little b*****d!"
The keys waved in the air frantically as Bridget hopped up and down on one high-heeled foot, struggling with its counter part. She had treated herself to an expensive pair of designer heels last year and bought them as a size five and half, thinking that she might give herself a little room in case her feet decided to grow. This morning, like some, her feet refused to go into them. The left had slipped in without a word, snuggling down into the rich velvet interior and wiggling its little toes with a sense of excitement that only came with being pampered. Perhaps her right foot had woken up on the wrong side of the bed this morning, though, because it was completely unwilling to cooperate or see reason. Its toes bunched up halfway into the shoe and the heel smashed down the back part of the heel rudely.
Thump. CRACK!
Bridget groaned and slowly rolled over on the floor, letting go of her heel and opening her eyes toward the ceiling. She lay there with her limbs spread eagle, eyelids heavy with morning frustrations. On her way down she had successfully cracked out that nasty knot in her back, which she could suppose was a high note to start the day on. "I will not be defeated," Bridget began, "by a pair of heels!"
With renewed determination, Bridget sprung up from the floor and looked down at her heel. It was such a pity that her foot simply didn't want to go in. Sighing and rolling her eyes, she swept up the heel and examined it for any faults (aside from the now wrinkled patent leather that her heel had decided to smash into). It was a beautiful, fierce blood red that was perfect for such a surprisingly sunny day in London. Not to mention they matched the new necklace and earrings she had purchased last week charmingly! Bridget flopped down onto her bed and fixed the heel, stretching it out a bit and dusting off her right foot before trying again. Her eyes pressed shut and lips pursed, dreading to see her foot reject the beautiful shoe.
Sliiip. Snap.
Bridget blinked her eyes open and was amazed. A wide grin crawled across her face and she lifted her right leg up, pointing to her shoe. "Ah-ha! Victory is mine!" she cried, springing up from the bed and waving her fists in the air, bum wiggling from side to side.
"Another battle with the wardrobe, eh, Bee?"
As quickly as the victory dance had started it had stopped. Bridget cleared her throat and pulled up the back of her jeans, pressing down her white and red polka-dotted blouse in an attempt to regain composure. "Yes, Holly," she said proudly, lifting her chin dramatically. "Another battle, and it was a close one. These heels have once again been put in their place. They shall never win this war!" Bridget pointed at Holly with her index finger and marched over to her vanity, plucking her jewelry up one by one. The red and orange glass bauble earrings went on first, followed by the matching necklace that was strung together with wide gold hoops. For the finishing touches, she twisted on her gold bangles and grabbed her white leather belt with gold-heart belt-buckle. She took a few steps away before turning back around and plucking an orange hankerchief from her hat stand. She tied it around her neck like a choker and tucked the ends into the opening of her blouse. When everything was in place, she turned to Holly and opened her arms with fingers spaced wide enough to make any Jazz professor cream his leotard. "How do I look?" she purred.
Holly laughed and shook her head, strumming her nails on the door frame. "Lovely, Bee. I don't know why you insist on wearing heels, though. Haven't you got a bit of walking around to do today? I thought you were singing to folks."
"Oh, I've done that already, dear! It's time to putter around in the flower shop this afternoon and look as pretty as can be! Besides, I've got a date with Peter Pan tonight!" Bridget punctuated each sentence with her excitement as she grabbed her black clutch purse, her favorite lip gloss and her shades off the vanity. She perched the sunglass on top of her hair, using it as a hairband to keep the unruly blonde waves out of her face. "Don't ask me for details, my dear, I'm simply in too much of a rush! I've got a date with a coffee shop before I'm there!"
Before Holly could say much more Bridget was running out of their two bedroom apartment and down the hall to the stairs. Her heels clicked merrily with each step, making a rapid tick-tack nose as she hurried down the steps and spun out onto the busy London streets. Once she was out in the sun, she spread her arms, embracing the sun's glory as it touched her lips. It wove an unbreakable smile over her face as she made her way off to usual little coffee stop. Well, tea stop, that is, since she believed coffee was pretty much the Unseelie Queen's incarnate.
The door to Winds of Fae chimed as Bridget pushed it open. The place as buzzing with action since it was nearly afternoon; it was that awkward 'brunch time' hour, she felt. Not sure what to do with herself, since she was so used to coming in when there was basically no one, she decided to do what she normally did. Bridget walked straight up to the register counter and passed by all the tables and waitresses, peering over to a dark haired boy making someone's coffee. She looked to her left and to her right, seeing no one else, and whistled to him. "Darling? When you're done with that, would you mind fixing me a tea?"
LadyMarcy
6,250 Points
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anekochan
Wheezing Fatcat
• Mεɾɾick Lyɴɴ•
With a startled gasp Merrick looked up at the voice, almost loosing his hold on the coffee he held in his hands. The customers usually didn’t talk to him directly - he usually got his orders through Sasha, the good looking woman in the long skirt, or from Ralphie - his quietness made it seem to them he didn‘t want to be spoken to, so they didn‘t speak to him. That, and he usually kept himself busy back away from the counter.
“Uh, sure.” he stammered, turning awkwardly back to preparing Miss Wheathersby’s coffee. After sticking a bright blue straw into the cup - wouldn’t want the old woman to spill any on herself - he walked carefully out from behind the counter and over to the woman’s table.
“Thank you, dear,” she said with a smile. The feather in her hat was faded, the silk of her scarf frayed and her brooch missing a pearl. How sad what age could do to mortals. He smiled in return and scurried back behind the counter, glad as all Fae are to not be as humans are as he started on the blonde’s tea.
He picked a cup from the rack, red to match her shirt - their tea cups came in many colors, unlike their coffee mugs - and matching plate to set it on. His brow furrowed as he filled the cup with boiling water and reached for a tea bag only to remember he hadn’t asked her what kind of tea she wanted.
“Miss,” he said, turning towards her with the tea cup in hand. His grip tightened as he caught the feel of something familiar from her, something different then the mortals around him. As it dawned on him what the difference he sensed was he moved a little closer to her, examining her, making sure she wasn’t of the opposite court. No, she couldn’t be he would be able to tell.
“Miss?” he asked again, dropping the glamour on one eye for a split second to expose to her the true color, honey brown and shining like a jewel of amber, before he replaced the glamoured blue. Could her being here have something to do with the heir? How interesting the times ahead would be.
Parthenia Derelict
--------------------- ✖౦✖౦✖ Titania {Marie} Mayfair ✖౦✖౦ ---------------------
------------►► I'm so alone, and I feel just like somebody else..◄◄ --------------------------------►► Man, I ain't changed, but I know I ain't the same.◄◄
‘London seems to be all about the sweet life.’ Titania thought to herself as she stretched tiredly in her seat on the tube. She had barely been in London for a day and she could already admit to wanting to live it up in at least one of the half a dozen places she had seen last night on her way from Heathrow Airport in the back of a black TX4 hackney carriage that had picked her up and drove her to the Holiday Inn hotel in Greenwich.
Titania remembered the flashing lights of the bars and various clubs of her Mecca as she passed them by, beckoning to her like a siren’s call to a hapless sailor in the almost hour long ride. She sighed a bit, running a diminutive hand through her ebony locks, taking care not to dislodge the ear bud to her iPod as it glared Green Day’s Basket Case. Unfortunately today wasn’t for celebrations as Titania fought off her jet lag at eight in the morning and other tourists at the continental breakfast, in order to get up and running at finding her way around the city.
So far, all Titania had managed was to get lost and spend two hundred dollars of her savings on a hotel room she hoped she wouldn’t be staying in for more than a few days. She leaned forward bit, resting her elbows on her black jeaned knees and her head in her hands, feeling a headache coming on. “I have to be optimistic! Damnit.” Titania growled to herself, taking a cursory glance around the car with her cobalt eyes. The last thing she needed was to be dodging glances from the class ridden locals on the subway and luckily no one was there to witness her little spectacle.
“I’ve worked so hard to get here and come so far, like Hell I’m going to let something like getting lost stop me from what I set out to do.” Though what she wanted seemed to be hopeless if she didn’t know where she was headed and didn’t know anybody. Titania had started out with little success at finding another place to stay when she set out from the Holiday with a newspaper and her guitar case filled with her few possessions. As if Fate was listening to her self-bickering and getting annoyed with it, the metro began to slow down and jerked before stopping altogether at its designated stop. Titania blinked in confusion as it slowly dawned upon her that her dilemma was over and soon after it she realized she was leaning out of her seat too much and fell onto the floor with a dull thud.
“Ow..” Titania grumbled as she pulled herself up, unaware that the ends of the laces on the side of her pants had gotten caught on a bar underneath her seat. The tube had begun to move again. “Oh, hey. NO, wait!”She struggled to get up and grabbed her guitar case as the doors began to close, stumbling out of them due to her caught laces. She sighed with relief as she stood there with the tube passing down the track behind her,
“Well, that was close..now where am I?” Titania looked around dubiously, wincing a little as the glare of the sun narrowed her vision. Seeing a nearby plaque under the exit Titania uttered a tone of victory as she walked towards it, slipping her guitar case’s strap over her shoulder. Her combat boots echoing as the hit the concrete enclosing the distance and her brow narrowed as she read it.
“Mayfair? Huh, how weird is that but at least..I kinda know where I am.” Titania laughed nervously, looking around the surrounding buildings. Well, she did want to go see London but even Titania had to admit, even when lost the place was alluring. Suddenly she felt something cool on her bare arm, glancing down she saw something grayish white on her exposed bicep as she wiped it off with her hand.
“No..” Titania uttered in disbelief, her mouth opening in a slight ‘O' as she stared at her hand before shaking it wildly. “It couldn’t be.” Had she just gotten pooped on by a ******** pigeon?! She looked up just in time to see the bloody thing land onto the building’s roof on the right to her, looking down at her it “cooed” satisfied.
“You gotta be ******** kidding me!” Titania glared at the creature, “Oh, that’s it. You’re so deep fried, my feathery friend, just yo-” She paused in mid-rant as something dangled off the bird’s leg, in fact, Titania was sure it was a tag of some kind. “So what, now? You’re some kind of messenger bird? Well, what’s my message? That God hates me?”
Wilted Flower
Bridget Cavanaugh While in her morning stupor she never took the time to have herself a look around the coffee shop. Typically she would march right up to the register and slump against the counter with her index and forefinger pressed against her temples to massage the morning aches away. Her eyes were always bloodshot from lack of ten wonderful hours of sleep (seven, eight, or nine simply wouldn't do!) and her voice, usually like that of a songbird, would croak like a foul toad. So she took this moment of clarity to examine the place like she never had before.
The walls had classy, modern paintings and photography; very ritzy and yet it maintained that indie-chic she felt the place was going for. The tables and chairs all matched and the ones unoccupied had chairs wandering away from their tables, tilted at odd angles. She could imagine a group of friends sitting at the tables (at least three tables worth) and supposed that they had turned the chairs to face one another and horse around. Perhaps she would tell Holly to wake up early one morning so that they could come down together and have a quiet morning cup of tea. It would be nice to sit by the window and people watch. You could find the funniest looking people here in London.
"Miss?"
What really caught her attention was the lack of uniform. It was a casual place and that likely meant it was far from becoming a chain and owned by a laid-back human. Or would that be Fae? The name made her wonder if one of the Seelie court members had this place occupied. Typically any place with any sort of recognition to the Fae had their blessing in some sort of fashion. Oberon always made sure that the humans who chose to remember them were blessed, whether it be in monetary wealth or a happy life. Some were even so lucky as to receive eternal protection from the Fae, but those were typically writers, poets, and lovers who spent their entire careers dedicated in search of understanding the Faerie Realm.
"Miss?"
"Hm?" Bridget blinked her eyes, eye lashes fluttering. She smiled as she fell out of her dream-like state and turned towards the younger man, catching a honey-like gleam out of the corner of his eyes. If she were a mere human she would have dismissed it as the sunlight catching her at the right angle but she was far too well-educated to think less of this. It was a sign that he was one of their own. It was as if the knowledge made her smile widen and her own eyes twinkled that familiar gold as she laughed.
"I didn't say what tea I wanted, did I?" Her elbows stood on the counter top as her hands reached up to cup her soft chin. The golden twinkle faded back into an ocean's blue, though a twinkle of mischief resided. "Sorry about that, luv. Chai tea, could you? But would you mind adding warm milk instead of water?" The cup had already been filled with water, though, and she felt a bit embarrassed for not having told him sooner. "Sorry about that. It's just so strong for me and.. Well... I do love my milk!"
anekochan
Wheezing Fatcat
• Mεɾɾick Lyɴɴ•
Merrick let a smile grace his lips, relieved the woman had had a positive reaction to his eyes, meaning she was certainly Seelie.
“Of course,” he said, his voice, whisper soft as it usually was, a little louder and richer than his co-workers were used to. This drew an odd look from Ralphie who was manning the register, but he didn’t notice. He dumped the water out into the coffee machine - no sense in wasting perfectly good hot water - and replacing it with some warm milk from the coffee fixings. If he had known she was Fae earlier, he would have done so in the first place.
A look of concentration crossed his face as he finished preparing her chai tea, gracefully fingers working with deft accuracy without his watching them to intently. He added a touch of mint, not enough to taste, just enough to add an air of good luck to her day before he slid the tea in front of her.
“Here you are, miss.” he said with a smile. It felt good to be by another like himself - he hadn’t spoken face to face with a Fae for some time and he could feel the difference. It made him feel a little more uncomfortable in this very human setting, a little mischievous, a little wild.
“Is there anything else you need?” he asked, raising a brow as he leaned on the counter to insinuate he meant more than just a little sugar or honey for her tea . At that moment Puck decided it would be a good idea to visit, sauntering up behind the woman and sitting next to her, curled tail wagging, blue mug still in his grasp, the note inside now surely soaked in dog drool.
“Careful, Puck,” Merrick cautioned the dog, giving a stern look. “Don’t get your fur all over the nice miss’s clothes.”
The dog ignored him, dropping his head to set the mug on the floor before lifting a paw, giving the woman a nudge and whining a bit, trying to get attention. Given the sensitive nature of animals he most likely sensed the similarity between his master and this newcomer, thus the display of affection.
"Puck!" Merrick scolded, giving the dog an icy glare. The dog's head drooped as he stood, tail hanging sadly between his legs as he slunk back to his cushion. Merrick shook his head, running a hand through already mussed black hair.
"Great, now he'll be grumpy like that all day." he mumbled.
"Puck, I'm sorry, I just didn't want you to ruin the lady's clothes." he called across the room. The dog stared at him a moment before turning his back on the man and laying down, body heaving with a downtrodden sigh. Merrick sighed and shook his head, turning his attention away from the sulking dog and back to the woman at the counter.
"Sorry about that," he apologized. "He has a real attitude sometimes."
WaltzWithVampires
This is me for forever
One of the lost ones
The one without a name
Without an honest heart as compass
Blood ran over Zellar's scarred hand as he reached with his right index finger and thumb to pluck a paper towel from a roll under the cabinet. It smelled sweet, tangy, metallic... He held the flower-patterned paper under the girls nose as the blood oozed out of the puncture he'd just stabbed into her face. The brunette blinked furiously to try and keep the tears at bay while the faerie began to dab gingerly around her freckled nose to get it off her pretty little face. She bit her lip, watching him as he stood and ran his clean hand through his hair.
"You can go to the bathroom to clean the rest up," Zellar muttered. The girl nodded frantically and she scurried away to the small bathroom in the back of the shop. He waited for the lights to go on and the click of the lock before he began to clean up his station.
The bloody towel wound up in the trash and his tools were placed in the ultra violet 'microwave' to be sanitized. Zellar went to the sink and turned the cold tap on, watching the water run and about to stick his hands in when the smell of the blood hit him again. The male looked over his shoulder, Rick was in the back and Denise was busy tattooing an Indian woman... Zellar brought his hand to his mouth, and inhaled the now dried blood. His pink tongue then slid over his hand, removing the girls blood. His body shivered, he'd not tasted human blood for nearly a month now.
When the girl came back out she looked proud of herself, more than likely believing she'd done something very impressive, something that might get shocked exclamations of, "Oh mai Gawd, did it hert?! That's so cuuute!" She walked to the counter, a swing in her step as she plopped her overly large designer purse onto the table. Zellar never understood them, they were ugly, they had someones name on it. He crinkled his nose a bit then was caught off guard as piece of plastic disturbed his view. The thin rectangle had a picture of Hello Kitty on it, sporting a red dress and her usual bow. The faerie took the card and swiped it through the machine before he handed it back to the brunette with a receipt. He watched as she scribbled down his tip in her very bubbly writing and signed her name. She even went on to dash down her number real quick before she handed it back to him.
"Thanks so much, I hope to see you again soon," she cooed before she went stomping out of the store in her wedge sandals. He couldn't imagine himself standing next to her, but he could imagine the expressions she'd get from her friends if he were with her. A smile pulled at his lips, watching her as she crossed the street and dissapeared around the corner.
"Maybe later," Zellar chimed.
"Huh?" Denside lifted her head from her work to look up at her co-worker. Her eyes squinting at the sunlight that poured through the windows.
Zellar chuckled, "Nuthin."
Moments later the twenty-three-year-old had gone and lounged in a satellite chair, covered in red pleather, and tilted his head back. The fur from his coat he'd tossed on the chair earlier tickled his nose as he took in a deep breath and released. His arms and most of his shoulders were exposed, revealing several ink drawings of all sizes and shapes twisting over his flesh. He even had tattoos on his palms, which were in fact a single eye in the center. He sucked on the snake bites that pierced his lower lip and played with his tongue ring up until his next customer arrived minutes later.
"Yeah, I was thinking like a skull with it cracked and exposing brain you know?" Zellar just grunted as the male rattled on about this tattoo he wanted.
"Come back in 10 minutes and I'll have a sketch ready," Zellar sighed. This man was large, and hairy. And he wanted it on his calf... Zellar watched as he walked out, swearing he had sasquatch legs. He'd need five razors.
Zellar moved back to his work bench and pulled out his sketch book. As he opened it to find a clean page, a note fell out onto the counter. He almost tossed it in the trash until he noticed the bat wing ensignia on it. Zellar licked his lips as he opened it, expecting bad news. And so it was, to a point. The faerie sighed as he tucked it into his pants pocket, he'd be going to Baron's Arm Pub tonight instead of seeing miss brunette... At least he could down some beers while he was put through this crap.
One of the lost ones
The one without a name
Without an honest heart as compass
ZellarBlood ran over Zellar's scarred hand as he reached with his right index finger and thumb to pluck a paper towel from a roll under the cabinet. It smelled sweet, tangy, metallic... He held the flower-patterned paper under the girls nose as the blood oozed out of the puncture he'd just stabbed into her face. The brunette blinked furiously to try and keep the tears at bay while the faerie began to dab gingerly around her freckled nose to get it off her pretty little face. She bit her lip, watching him as he stood and ran his clean hand through his hair.
"You can go to the bathroom to clean the rest up," Zellar muttered. The girl nodded frantically and she scurried away to the small bathroom in the back of the shop. He waited for the lights to go on and the click of the lock before he began to clean up his station.
The bloody towel wound up in the trash and his tools were placed in the ultra violet 'microwave' to be sanitized. Zellar went to the sink and turned the cold tap on, watching the water run and about to stick his hands in when the smell of the blood hit him again. The male looked over his shoulder, Rick was in the back and Denise was busy tattooing an Indian woman... Zellar brought his hand to his mouth, and inhaled the now dried blood. His pink tongue then slid over his hand, removing the girls blood. His body shivered, he'd not tasted human blood for nearly a month now.
When the girl came back out she looked proud of herself, more than likely believing she'd done something very impressive, something that might get shocked exclamations of, "Oh mai Gawd, did it hert?! That's so cuuute!" She walked to the counter, a swing in her step as she plopped her overly large designer purse onto the table. Zellar never understood them, they were ugly, they had someones name on it. He crinkled his nose a bit then was caught off guard as piece of plastic disturbed his view. The thin rectangle had a picture of Hello Kitty on it, sporting a red dress and her usual bow. The faerie took the card and swiped it through the machine before he handed it back to the brunette with a receipt. He watched as she scribbled down his tip in her very bubbly writing and signed her name. She even went on to dash down her number real quick before she handed it back to him.
"Thanks so much, I hope to see you again soon," she cooed before she went stomping out of the store in her wedge sandals. He couldn't imagine himself standing next to her, but he could imagine the expressions she'd get from her friends if he were with her. A smile pulled at his lips, watching her as she crossed the street and dissapeared around the corner.
"Maybe later," Zellar chimed.
"Huh?" Denside lifted her head from her work to look up at her co-worker. Her eyes squinting at the sunlight that poured through the windows.
Zellar chuckled, "Nuthin."
Moments later the twenty-three-year-old had gone and lounged in a satellite chair, covered in red pleather, and tilted his head back. The fur from his coat he'd tossed on the chair earlier tickled his nose as he took in a deep breath and released. His arms and most of his shoulders were exposed, revealing several ink drawings of all sizes and shapes twisting over his flesh. He even had tattoos on his palms, which were in fact a single eye in the center. He sucked on the snake bites that pierced his lower lip and played with his tongue ring up until his next customer arrived minutes later.
"Yeah, I was thinking like a skull with it cracked and exposing brain you know?" Zellar just grunted as the male rattled on about this tattoo he wanted.
"Come back in 10 minutes and I'll have a sketch ready," Zellar sighed. This man was large, and hairy. And he wanted it on his calf... Zellar watched as he walked out, swearing he had sasquatch legs. He'd need five razors.
Zellar moved back to his work bench and pulled out his sketch book. As he opened it to find a clean page, a note fell out onto the counter. He almost tossed it in the trash until he noticed the bat wing ensignia on it. Zellar licked his lips as he opened it, expecting bad news. And so it was, to a point. The faerie sighed as he tucked it into his pants pocket, he'd be going to Baron's Arm Pub tonight instead of seeing miss brunette... At least he could down some beers while he was put through this crap.
This is me for forever
One without a name
These lines the last endeavor
To find the missing lifeline
One without a name
These lines the last endeavor
To find the missing lifeline