The One Night Stand || Open - Printable Version

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The One Night Stand || Open - Kat - 11-07-2014

[Image: joK3Kpr.png]

The One Night Stand is a place of legends, frequented by countless miscreants of Gaia Union City Valesport; regardless the somewhat ancient and out of date appearance the complex is known for. In a less populated part of town by the docks, a line of closed businesses decorates either side of the street, with the quaint little bar seated right smack in the middle. From the outside, there’s little to the One Night Stand that sticks out, minus the small hanging sign with the name. A short walk over crumbling sidewalk to the door gives you a view of the entrance, which is decorated in archaic symbols most wouldn’t be able to decipher – but resonate a somewhat dark energy. As though offering a warning to anyone who has strayed off the beaten path the knowledge that this bar isn’t your normal dive bar.

[Image: pNdx0sE.png]
The policy is an open bar at the ONS, but usually, when a bartender is available, they're willing to serve. The main barroom branches directly from the entrance, and a collective of tables, chairs, and booths seem comfortably spaced for a large population looking to enjoy their privacy. The main counter is a different story, with stools tightly compacted for intimate conversations among the more social customers. Posters line the walls, stating various slogans, phrases, and obscure rules - but they're ancient and falling apart, hinting at the true age of the run down establishment. The floors and walls are wood, and surprisingly clean considering the sort of patrons the bar attracts. Foreign runic symbols are engraved every so often, seemingly burned into the wooden surfaces evenly throughout the length of the building, and upon closer examination, one might note the strange and ancient magic they seem to contain. The windows are spaced and dreamily paned, giving the outside world an almost artistic and surreal appearance to the viewer. A worn down sofa and love seat set are also available near the fireplace in the farthest corner from the door, which seems almost out of place in the rough and tumble main drinking hub, yet are a popular spot for those simply looking to get out of the cold.

Through a door to the side of the counter, one would find the kitchen, and all the amenities provided within. This portion of the One Night Stand has been renovated in (semi)recent times and has practical versions of the usual appliances and tools for preparing, cooking and storing food. The ingredients within are typical ones for an Americanized establishment, but once something is stocked, it has a tendency to be restocked at the end of each evening. In large writing across the wall beneath the door frame, it reads 'Please don't screw here! This is where we make our meals!' (This is the same message one would be able to find in the public bathrooms, but those are located off near the fireplace common area.)

Leading down from the kitchen, through the back of the pantry, is a wine cellar that is used mostly for alcohol storage. The door is almost always locked, and has no real purpose other than to store Errol's collection of vintage wines.

A stairwell leads from the entryway of the barroom to a long corridor of the exposed upper level, though it seems only to serve as a funnel for the seemingly endless rooms the inn portion of ONS is able to provide. More of the strange runic symbols cover the walls and floors of this hallway and indeed are included in the rooms, should one choose to stay the night. Each room consists of a king sized bed, a desk, a wardrobe, a lamp, a chest, wall shelving, a personal bathroom, and an alarm clock. These features never change, but other qualities of the somewhat uniform rooms might. Lucky guests have windows, and some are balcony view or fitted with bay windows. Others might have a vanity or extra chairs, or maybe even a full sized bathroom with a tub, rather than just a shower stall.

Lastly, somewhere in the bar is a passage that leads underground, and through it, one can find themselves traveling a series of intricate tunnels that seem to follow the metro system of the city. What the purpose of these tunnels was, no one is sure of yet, though the mystery may one day be solved should anyone choose to investigate it.

Follow the ToS, respect the other players, and have fun~
Archive is here and Archiving was done by the wonderful DanixieWrites!

The One Night Stand || Open - Ghostly - 11-11-2014

<quote author="@Kat][/quote]

[/img]"" style="max-width:100%;float:left;margin:0 18px;" style="Braelin]Even though he put the question out there, if Cheswick had given him a detailed recollection of the tragedy that occurred there was no guarantee that the simple mind of the inexperienced golem could even understand the gravity that it held. Thankfully, there would be no need for Braelin to socially embarrass himself in front of his friend as she neither had a proper answer for him or the desire to drag him into a matter that was by no means his. Just like that the anger that had been tightly wound inside him over the loss that Cheswick had gone through dispersed as soon as it had come on, by the only one capable of bringing any showing of emotion out of him. It was fair to keep him as far from this as possible, this was her pack after all, and though he were a part of it Braelin was not blood. Besides there were aspects of his own life that had never left his lips, even to the silver wolf. Perhaps one day they could have nothing between them, but not now.

The Garou gave him one last remark to which he could only give a nod of his head back at her insight to the brief lives they all would lead. Braelin more than gratefully accepted her touch as limbs stretched out quickly to wrap around a body too scared for one he cared so deeply about. Digits covered in filth met at her back and held her tight in a hug that he wished he never would have to break.

Nothing lasts forever, unfortunately.

A new voice in the otherwise eerily quiet forest snapped those green orbs wide and brought that toned form designed for combat to its feet in a hurry. With ease the youth wasted not a moment to perform an instinctive hop out of the pit he'd dug. In landing he'd be facing the short woman in a white suit who leaned against the tree overlooking the grave. Certainly this one did not appear nor sound like a foe that meant either harm, but Braelin had spent the entirety of his existence around devils with silver tongues dressed in sharp suits. Although his eyes were focused on Ziggy and her head of short pink locks with arms raised as if he were ready to defend his friend, the red haired boy knew better than to attack like a rabid dog. "Cheswick, am I overreacting?" Honest words asked for his pack mate whom he was set to die for if needed. No one had taught him more about how to be himself than Cheswick, and he'd default to her judgement in times of uncertainty. Still, the earth that still clung to his hands from earlier began to pop and fizzle as the magic that drove the destructive power in his arms were energized with a bright blue glow from under their bindings. Better to be prepared than caught off guard at the very least.

If it were anyone but Braelin, they'd surely have recognized the individual standing before him having spent years in this city as he had. Welcome to a glimpse into this aloof man's life.

The One Night Stand || Open - Kat - 11-12-2014

[/img]"" style="avatar" style="max-width:25%;float:left;margin:0 18px;]"Back off, Hot Shot, or I'll lay you flat on your ass."

Grinning impishly, the necromancer continued to stand where she was, arms folding as a sign of 'no harm, no foul'. The little shit didn't seem to recognize her, and his wolfish friend was also standing clueless, though at least seemed to half understand who the performer was. A start to an awkward conversation. "Now Cheswick, you know I might be able to help. Might." Shouldering a shrug as cobalt hues bounced all over; from the boy and his dog, to the bones they had gathered. Even when the woman was perfectly still in her petite glory, something about her seemed fidgety. Neither of the two she had approached were happy to see her, and if Ziggy cared, she'd high tail it with a snap and a no-hard-feelings - but she didn't. Being a stranger in a room full of familiar faces wasn't at all uncommon when it came to the gatherings in the One Night Stand, so why had she expected differently from her current company?

Cheswick frowned, heavy lids narrowing so grey orbs were barely visible to the necromancer. The tuft of cotton candy hair wasn't unfamiliar at all, but the Garou knew too much of her exploits not to lean on the cautious side, even if it meant falsely riling up her eager friend. "Didn't ask for help." Pointing out the fact didn't seem to phase Ziggy in the slightest, but Cheswick did it all the same, with deadpan delivery unchanging. "You shouldn't have come this far from safety."

"Safety?" Ziggy feigned shock, planting one palm flat against the chest of her peacoat. "You wound me! Do I look fragile? I'm sure as fuck not."

"Watch your mouth." Cheswick warned softly, hues looking to Braelin questioningly. "He is not so patient."

"Well, you should definitely work on teaching that virtue." With a shake of pink coif, the magician straightened and paced away, still comfortably distanced from the troubled duo. "Hear it's what keeps people from making BIG MISTAKES." Her hands expanded, fingers wide, for emphasis. "Now wrangle back your boy and listen to what I have to say, alright?"

Carefully, Cheswick extended her arm to place digits on the Golem's chest as a sign to remain calm. After all, Ziggy wasn't entirely wrong with her quips.

"Awesome. Now, you've got some bones you need something done with right?"

"Proper burial." The shifter seethed, a small growl reverberating at the mere mention of her kin in such a way.

"-Or we could bring them back?" Whistling after the mention was made, her smile extended into a rather obnoxious grin. "You know, because that's the sort of 'oogie boogie' bullshit I'm good at. Wouldn't cost ya nothin' but a favor. I know your kind are good for those, right?"


"Fucking fairy dust and pixie spit. Howthefuckdoyouthink?"[/img]"" style="avatar" style="max-width:25%;float:right;margin:0 0 18px 18px;]

The One Night Stand || Open - Ghostly - 11-14-2014

<img style="Braelin" src="" style="max-width:100%;float:left;margin:0 18px;]
Much to Ziggy's seemingly endless boon of fortune, for all the shit she talked there was no retaliation this time as well. Braelin's magic empowered fists were clenched and ready to defend if there was a scuffle to be had, but with all of the talk from the thief and no word yet from Cheswick he kept his ground with determined eyes ever watchful. The necromancer certainly was on par to assume that Braelin at least had not a inkling of desiring her company. He was too accustomed to those swooping in an offering a deal that sounded too good to be true, and knew nothing of this woman's history or motivation to trust the silver silver lining she spun to this grim scenario.

Cheswick did not however give the golem reign to bite like the guard dog he was more than happy to play, not yet anyways. Until then he'd remain stiff in his form and never let the short woman with pink locks think for a second he wished for her presence. After all, there were several women in this coastal city that he'd learned not to trust. Instead she bantered back and forth with the stranger with a tone he'd not heard often. Even he could assume the intrusion to what he figured a private moment was an egregious mistake. Still, Ziggy's words did seem to reach the silver wolf to bring her hand to ease the tension the youth felt.

The instant those pale digits met with his chest he'd not disobey. Besides, if he could believe in anyone it was Cheswick; she was the only family he considered himself having, and if he threw that away what did he have left? The fighter's stance relaxed and his limbs fell back to his side before letting the Garou step in front of him to take charge of the conversation. What was being discussed he had no true part in as he was but invited by Cheswick to take part in a personal matter regarding her tribe.

A burial for the remains was mentioned which was quickly followed by the suited woman with an alternate solution. Magic is a force great enough to bring almost anything to reality that otherwise seems impossible. It is what gave his own form movement, so he knew better than most that necromancy was a twisted but very viable school of the arcane arts; the practice was only a hop and a skip away from golemancy in the end. When all of the cards were laid out by both sides he couldn't help but let his hand reach out to take one of Cheswick's in his own. Orbs of bright green and a slow shake of the red tufts atop his head would be the only means he spoke, pleading her not to be hasty if anything was to come of this.

There were those you never wished to owe a favor to, and like he said, he knew nothing of this woman to suggest it.

The One Night Stand || Open - Kat - 11-15-2014

<img style="avatar" src="" style="max-width:25%;float:left;margin:0 18px;]Ziggy was no fool. That's why she got away with more than she deserved to. It helped to never seem to grow tired of her own voice, especially when it was talking shit. Between grinning lips, more was spewed, and it all directed itself towards the Garou. After all, she had no business with the Golem; he was just another tagalong to the cast she followed with morbid curiosity. The One Night Stand had always given her people to watch, to keep tabs on, and to ultimately reap the benefits of having around as acquaintances... Like Cheswick. Her saving grace currently, though for things far more dangerous than meals.

"You know, it wouldn't be easy. Certainly wouldn't be cheap, but'cha know, my favor is a biiiiig one." Rubbing her finger tips together, the reaction was visibly anxious, but there was no use hiding it from the dog and her boy. Neither were very bright, and Ziggy knew there was an idiot between them, at the very least. She didn't even push to details, or what her favor may have been, instead just continuing with this friendly spiel concerning the extent of work raising the dead took. "Takes a lot of concentration to bring back the long dead. Newly dead are easy, but the longer they go ignored, the harder it is for me." The emphasis there was commentary, soft and padded judgments implying Cheswick didn't care enough about these once living loved ones.

The taller woman glanced away with a muddled expression. It was shame, but it seemed conflicted on her portrait and one would likely not glean enough detail to notice. If anything, making the face made her look confused. "You could do it though?" Slowly licking her lips, her questions were slow. Methodical. "You have that power?"

"Again, yes. Yes. Fucking yes." The necromancer clicked her tongue in frustration and took a deep breath, which she expelled at the Golem. "But why don't you ask this guy if this sort of thing works? You know he's nothing more than someone's pet project. If you can animate a bunch of rocks to impersonate a person, what makes you think I can't bring back actual people?"

A flash of anger returned, but it was soon overtaken by a sort of quirked brow discomfort. "No...?" Turning in to face her friend, she tilted her head and peered at his standing body, scrutinizing the details through narrowed lids. "No, he is alive. He is here, alive-"
<img style="avatar" src="" style="max-width:25%;float:right;margin:0 0 18px 18px;]
"Because someone made him that way! HURRDUUUURR- you fucking twat." Grumbling, Ziggy finally broke down and snapped her fingers, which sounded off like a gunshot in the quiet of the park. Now between two fingers at the joints was a cigarette which she swiveled in accusatory fashion, wobbling while she waved it at Tewwdle Dee and Tweedle Dumb. "Look, he's a Golem and he's not real, but he's real to you, right?"

"I-I don't understand..." Cheswick just shook her head and again averted her gaze, suddenly feeling smaller than the loud and irritated woman explaining. "Golem?"

Ziggy shot Braelin a look of half comedic appreciation, half disgust. "You didn't tell her you're some perverts toy project? Fuckin' Pinocchio here thinks he's a real boy? WOOOOOOOW!"

Ziggy ended up just cackling, arms hugging her middle through the action. Priceless. Cheswick, on the other hand, continued to look disoriented. These were not terms she was familiar with, nor did she want to ask the boy out of fear of the unknown. What had Ziggy meant by saying he wasn't a real? A doll? How?

The One Night Stand || Open - Ghostly - 11-18-2014

<img style="Braelin" src="" style="max-width:100%;float:left;margin:0 18px;][size=small]Ziggy brought up the question that Cheswick had probably thought, but never wished to ask, shamelessly and probably knowing full well the consequences. If there was a deeper hole than the one he had dug, the red topped mage would likely have attempted to vanish into it.

Someone's pet project.

"That's not..."

The necromancer cared not and continued. Each line she added Braelin would try to speak in his usual meek tone only to get cut off again.

Look, he's a Golem and he's not real.

"Yes, but..." Fumbling with his words those emerald hues of his darted back and forth unable to even meet the one next to him, looking for a way to explain that which he didn't know how to explain to a wolf that from what he could tell knew not a thing about this brand of magic.

Then came what Ziggy had to assume was humorous, a riot even, verbally beating down his dear friend with a loud remark and bark of an insult to her face. What awkward looks the boy may have had were quickly twisted into a scowl that truly didn't befit otherwise innocent features. If one were to even know the youth slightly they'd have a hard time believing the emotion currently behind them.

Cheswick did not deserve this, now of all times.

In a tone louder than he'd ever likely spoken in before, he glared daggers into the tiny necromancer. "I'm real enough to be upset when a stranger comes up and harasses my friend." His fingers were clenched into a tight ball, and if he ground his molars any harder they'd probably crack under the pressure. This would not do at all. He had been trained long and hard to not let anger blind his actions, but he'd be dammned if he didn't let that powerful come along for the ride.

Lids closing Braelin took in one deep, long breath, clearing the building tension in his muscles that were threatening to snap into action on pure instinct. When they opened that grimace of a look had been wiped off of his face only to be replaced by a stern visage of determination. "I don't care if I'm going to be making a big mistake as you said, I am fiercely loyal to the only one who cares about me." There was still room between where Cheswick stood and Ziggy who leaned lazily against the trunk of the tree, and the golem took a couple steps to fill the gap. He was done listening to this cackling jerk getting her rocks off by messing with the two of them.

"I may not be of flesh and blood, but I'm more than real enough to where you should very much apologize for acting the way you are for no reason." His arms found their way back to a raised position and this time the destructive arcane engine was primed and ready without hesitation. If she continued to act like this, he'd certainly not heel even at his packmate's wish. "You came here for a reason, interrupting what means a great deal to my friend. If you want to strike a deal with her, fine, but don't think you can just stand there and insult both of us without reprimand." This was a first for Braelin, one of many that he'd likely experience by Cheswick's side. Never had he dared to stand up to someone in this manner, to raise his voice and even threaten violence on another. In it showed how much he cared for his wolf, the one person to show him compassion.

"I don't care who you are. You'll have to lay me out on my ass as you said if you want to keep this up."

He'd explain as much about what he was and where he came from if Cheswick wanted to know; there was no avoiding the subject any longer, but not here, not in front of Ziggy.[/font]

<img style=" " style="max-width:100%;" src="]

The One Night Stand || Open - Kat - 11-25-2014

"And I will certainly lay you out if you keep running your mouth. Matters that aren't concerning me, right? So, you got a problem with being a Golem? Fucking take it up without whoever decided it was a good idea to create you, but don't act like I ain't got the right to talk about it." Ziggy puffed out her chest with the waver in her grin, her eyes daring him to keep up his tough guy act because she would call his bluff. That was her expertise, after all. If she couldn't get someone riled up while she was doing business, she wasn't doing the right business. "Let's try this again, Wolfy. Why don't you muzzle the fucking yapper you have following on your heels? Otherwise, no dice. I'm not gonna deal with kids today."

Of course, Cheswick had fallen silent through the exchange, contemplative in the face of accusations. Slowly she inhaled, trying to imagine what was expected of her between the bickering. Braelin didn't deserve to be spoken to the was the magician had, but it wasn't outside the realm of possibility that her friend's temper would drive Ziggy away. With no Ziggy, what would become of the bones she now possessed? Initially, burying them elsewhere would have been enough - should have been enough. Yet here came the opportunity for more. Here stood a mean, rude, obnoxious person with ugly hair and a tacky outfit, but they said they could summon the dead. Her dead. Not any old corpses, but those of individuals the Garou had long thought forgotten. Who was she to pretend this wasn't important? Cheswick knew this wasn't something she could do for herself, much less without seeking necromancer's far less tolerable than Ms. Stardust.

Uneasily, Cheswick shook her head towards Braelin, speaking in that plain tone she always seemed to use. "Braelin, you can leave. This is not a matter you need to be present for." If he had difficulties keeping himself together after a verbal slight, she doubted he would do either of them good over the course of their business meeting.

"Exactly. If he can't keep his cool, he can scram."

The One Night Stand || Open - Ghostly - 12-01-2014

<img style="Braelin" src="" style="max-width:100%;float:left;margin:0 18px;][size=small]Ziggy was pushing him, not falling for is front, and in reality who would have? When one looked at Braelin, they did not see an imposing figure. A youth not even standing at six feet with an almost comical look of inquisitiveness attempting to act the tough guy; even before Cheswick stepped up to tell him to stand down he head lost that brief fire within him. He was trained in how to kill as such became his design, but lacked any of the fortitude to blindly fight another. Features usually soft and meek were probably clenched as tightly as those lethal fists, holding back what might have been tears.

Crying was a new emotion learned though Cheswick, and oh how he hated the feeling.

By the time Cheswick looked at the golem with those eyes he'd do anything for his hands were at his side in a burned out sense of defeat. She was more than right, Braelin was her friend, not family. He held no right to try and hold back what would ultimately be the wolf's decision on what to do with the remains. That said, from his point of view it was still a monumentally stupid choice all the same to blindly run into this. Necromancy was by no means an art most used for well-meaning purposes.

"Do what you need to do, I'll be here whenever you're finished." There would be nothing to come of him being present for any more remarks from the insufferable suited shortstop. Stepping away, he picked up his cloak that had been left by the hole dug earlier. Braelin clad in green, he walked off into the thicket of the trees; not to say he wouldn't be watching just in case something went awry. The boy would never let any harm come to his Cheswick if he could help it.[/font]

The One Night Stand || Open - Kat - 01-16-2015

<img style="max-width:25%;float:right;margin:0 0 18px 18px;" style="avatar" src="]They did just that.

It wouldn't be long after that Cheswick caught up with the Golem, a bit winded from a sprint, but obviously shed of her previous companion. The look in her grey hues seemed to say all the things she wasn't articulate enough to express, but that didn't mean she wouldn't make an attempt to soothe whatever strife had formed between them. "She is not important", but something about Cheswick spoke seemed to argue this, "But what she offers is... Important to me." A scarred set of digits gathered into a fist, and place firmly over where her heart was buried beneath her layers of winter wear. "Do not take offense. None was meant." The park was a quiet reminder that the world didn't revolve around their gathering, and though it seemed that all had been done to shake her foundations, the wolf was well aware this was only happening because Ziggy required her expertise. A Garou could make all the difference if one knew how to utilize their abilities properly.

Chastised by the mere thought of how she had acted, Cheswick reverted back to her usual stoicism and used it to keep from any more slights against her friend. This all became a matter of pack, and regardless of what Ziggy could do to bring back the fallen, Braelin was the only one to have stood tall at her side over the years. Their bond went beyond simple familial obligation. She hoped it would not be severed by anything so petty as Ziggy's arrogance and snark. Nodding back the way the came, the hunched woman ambled along the beaten path with her hands pocketed, gently musing over the bones they were filled with. Each had a radiance of life clinging to it's shell, rough weather beaten surfaces scratched and raw from time. The Wendigo could tell each and every one apart from the others. She could tell just which ones were her immediate family, and which had been the more distance relations of the pack.

In the end, she held the shard of her mother's femur with satisfaction.

"Are you hungry?" Glancing over to the boy as they came to the battered gates, Cheswick's features tilted awkwardly. "We could find food. The moon is still high. There is time."

The One Night Stand || Open - Kat - 02-17-2015

[/img]"" style="avatar" style="max-width:25%;float:right;margin:0 0 18px 18px;]Meanwhile, back at the One Night Stand;

Korbin Sparks ran his fingers along a series of scars hidden by stubble.

As a thick man, he naturally took up more space than he needed. Mostly, as tonight may have been the case, because he frightened his company. No doubt there was reason for this. Tonight though, his company hadn't bothered to show, and his frustration was obvious. Previous customers had scratched their initials into the bar, scraped it with their money clips, and damn near put dents into every inch of the wood any time there was a brawl. Korbin was joining the club as he knuckled roughly at the distressed surface, wearing through the wood like a boring drill. His other hand batted his cigarette around with reckless abandon, the ashes cast like a miniature fireworks display over the floor. The one tending bar was a ghost of a woman who said nothing, but kept her eyes on him when he didn't look her way. Let her fuckin' stare. It didn't bother him any. What did bother him was being lured out into the middle of the shittiest neighborhood in Valesport to wait at a dump like the One Night Stand for someone who had no intention of showing up.

Sucking his teeth to further express irritation, his body slumped heavily over the counter. Rough like his appearance, he barked an order. "Jus' gimme something to drink! No fuckin' fruity shit!"

The bartender did as was asked and placed a bottle and shot glass within arms reach. The whiskey was so dark, he could have been told it was tar, and he'd have believed it. Korbin didn't bother to give thanks as he snuffed his cigarette on the counter next to him to free up his hands. If he had to wait all night, he would. There wasn't a person he had met who would dare stand him up, and tonight wasn't going to be the exception.

They'd fuckin' come.

The One Night Stand || Open - Blade - 02-18-2015

<img style="avatar" src="" style="max-width:25%;float:left;margin:0 18px;] Vacation...

What the hell did that even mean? Vacations were for people who actually had time to spare. They were for people who didn’t have to worry about turf wars between newbies with ball sweat for brains. They were for people who didn’t spend hours filling out paperwork while cursing the overflowing ashtray as they chain smoked. They were for people who didn’t have to sit through three hour weekly meetings with the Courts over why it was ‘collateral damage’ for one of her boys to crash his hell-on-wheels through a Circle K during a car chase.

Vacation wasn’t even a word in her vocabulary. It didn’t sit right. There was always too much to do. In fact, at that very moment, she was lighting up at the very idea of some Court Appointed Suit running her unit. God, it’d be a fuckin’ mess when she returned.

And all for what? Because that city slicker in New York thought he’d play a prank on her and pull a few strings to get her some time off? She really needed to retaliate one of these days—when she had time.

Smoke expelled from pale lips, drifting and dissipating above. Shadows from the buildings to either side of her mixed and jerked; they blinked in and out with the glow from a lone and dying streetlight. Briefly, red-rusted depths locked on it; she lifted the wide flat brim of her black hat to gander. Squinting, she paused before setting it back in place and moving on.

The chime of her spurs was merely another backdrop of sound in the mix of the city’s murmurs, and the clip of the boots sounded in time with their delay. Black slacks draped over the tops of them; further up and over that a vest of crimson with ebony vine-work covered a seemingly flat chest. A duster was over that, perfect tailored to suit her, made not a of leather, but something finer and without shine.

She settled the fag between her lips a moment before stopping at the entrance to the bar. One Night Stand blared at her on the sign and she found herself contemplating the irony of going in.

“Damned slicker'd likely have a fine day with that,” she muttered, smirking around the cigarette while she adjusted the bolo nicktie on her collar.

She wasn’t adverse to a dive. Dives had been her bread and butter some time ago—long ago. You know, when she didn’t have to use something ‘extra’ to hide the .45 caliber Peacemakers hanging ‘round her hips—when it was odd to see anyone show up in a bar not packing heat… you know, those days.

Long lashes fells over angular and rounded features; they settled briefly as she took another hit off her smoke, half pressing into a bone structure that was of Native American decent. After a final exhale she dropped it, snubbed it, and entered.

Those same rusty-reds scanned in their own way, not stopping on anything in particular as she made her way to the bar.

If Trinity looked out of place, finely dressed out of time—like she’d be better off in a modern western—she didn’t care. The hawks’ feathers sticking out of the hatband, off her ear from a single earing, would have probably labeled her something of a hippie were it not for the rest.

With a sigh, she leaned into the bar… considering. Her hip cocked out, one elbow taking much of her weight.

The One Night Stand || Open - Ghostly - 02-18-2015

<img style="Braelin" src="" style="max-width:100%;float:left;margin:0 18px;][size=small]Braelin wasn't hard to find, as he was not attempting to hide from the Garou. Despite what had been a rather jarring exit on his part, there was no look of the same feeling expressed in his stance or features when he came into her view. If anything the auburn topped male was just pleased to see the wolf again and greeted her with the kindhearted smile he reserved for her. Cheswick didn't meed to explain why she accepted the necromancer's deal. Even a simple mind like his could piece together what their collusion would mean for her pack. What Braelin did not trust in was Ziggy's intentions with his dear Cheswick, and what would happen if she followed through with her end. "Family is always important, I understand that more so because I have had none since I met you." In all of their time together, nothing came above the pack, Braelin had seen Cheswick do so many foolish things in the name of her pride of the Wendigo name, and merely looking on in confusion. Only now did he truly get what it all amounted to.

"I won't apologize for how I acted, but do not think I am offended by what occurred." The golem reached out to take her balled fist into his hand, placing it over where the boy's own heart would be. Instead there was an artificial pulse of the magical energy flowing through his constructed figure. "I am not good with my emotions, even less so when relating to you, Cheswick." Looking into her dull grey eyes with wide open emerald hues, the youth clenched her pale flesh tightly as if to signify the importance of his next words. "Her insults mean little in comparison to how much I care for your well being." Which was funny considering how until recently he could barely even managed keeping himself out of harms way.

At the end of it, he simply nodded and released her hand to take his place by her side. As they walked he'd peer up at the massive white rock in the heavens above. "I'd be happy with just a run under the moonlight, or curling up in our pile. Food does not sound like a bad idea either though." Passing the gate he'd take her hand in his own once more and hold it tight as though she'd slip away. "Whatever we do, I just want to do it with you." He couldn't bear to look at Cheswick, because his face did not know how it would handle the flush of emotions running through his mind right now.[/font]

The One Night Stand || Open - Kat - 02-19-2015

<img style="avatar" style="max-width:25%;float:right;margin:0 0 18px 18px;" src="]This wasn't who he waited for. This tall woman in her rustic garb, catching him off guard as his shot was poured, though he didn't refrain from taking it. So smooth, it scraped. Shit whiskey in a shitty bar, with a shitty albino bartender making the drinks, but not bothering to make small talk. Korbin felt something of a smile creep over his features. Maybe this place wasn't as bad as he had initially pinned it for, given the smell was forgettable after he acclimated to it, and the scenery was unremarkable in it's dinginess. His kind hardly complained over these sort of circumstances, but he was far from the grave and expected better in most regards. Spoiled was the term. After all these years, Korbin was considered a pampered, arrogant Abaasy, despite not fitting the profile.

If there was going to be a wait for his original company, Korbin could find something to distract himself with. Better to be chatty than to be unruly, though enough of the whiskey in his system, and he'd likely prove both personas were within his abilities to display. The newcomer was close enough to smell, but the smoke of the establishment was thick and integral to the fabric of the setting, making it near impossible to make out much more than this norm. Maybe soap, maybe perfume, maybe gun powder. A whole load of maybes but no sure fire sign to guarantee any of the mentioned. The burlier figure propped on his elbows and leaned into the counter with a gruff sigh, glance shifting towards the woman in an invasive manner. The kind of look hungry scavengers gave in the distance of a kill.

"Rodeo get inta town early this year?" Glassware rattled as he repositioned a bit to face the foreigner, cold hues the color of piss. Yellow and slightly fluorescent. "U'less you're lost. Hear that shit all the time. Everyone gets lost, ends up in shit holes."

The One Night Stand || Open - Blade - 02-19-2015

[/img]"" style="avatar" style="max-width:25%;float:left;margin:0 18px;]Trinity inhaled deeply for a moment as she took in the piss poor excuse for watering hole. Nostrils flared at the mixture of dilapidation of spirit and comfortable gluttony—not that she could actually scent such things. More that, two lifetimes of experience made one associate smells with memories—memories of many places all the same in scent and appearance.

She didn’t linger in joints like this anymore—visited, but rarely lingered.

Careful rust-red hues shifted as she turned her body further towards the bar itself, clothes shifted and tugged, but the subtle sounds that fabric made were muted—lacking noise. Even the chime of her spurs was silenced all at once as she touched her gaze on the tattooed mess of muscle not far to her left. She then watched at the tender poured his shot, deciding to wait until she was done before bothering the lady.

Unable to quell the combustion of nerves, those not visible in the least, she reached into her duster and pulled out a dented and worn tin. From its confines she drew forth a cigarette without a filter. The thin white stick that was rolled with the utmost precision—probably that very morning in her own hand—was stuck betwixt her lips. A match, also drawn from the casing, was nicked along the bar, alighting immediately as the beast of a man with what she would call a piercing honey gaze, spoke to her.

She didn’t reply right away, looking at him over the brilliance of light casting a glow on her face—shadows. Inhaling made it that much brighter. And then she exhaled and removed it from her mouth, smoke half expelling from her nose and half from the small space between her lips. Even as she looked at him, speaking—briefly breaking his gaze to look at the woman behind the bar—drifting wisps of white continued to tumble forth. “Bourbon.” At the same time, she dropped the case on the sad bar counter with a chink and the match into a lone ashtray that was just as sad as the rest of dive—dented and bent.

Short strands of black grazed along her neck, dropping just short of her shoulders by a few inches. The abyssal threads were not straight, nor were they curled. Rather, they were more layered bits reminiscent of a woman who didn’t care quite as much for hair as she did her clothes. It wasn’t dirty or messy… just… there. The same could be said of her face in its entirety. She simply let it be, not bothering to pluck thickly-shaped brows that—in someone’s opinion—didn’t really need it anyway.

She was smirking lightly at his quip, if it could be called that. As her drink was set down, half slid to her, she took it in her hand and rubbed a single thumb over the glass. “Went to a bar once that had a bull riding—live bulls too,” she commented offhandedly, rolling with his remark. “I was more interested in the drinks though, truth be told.” The series of words that left her were not entirely without accent, hinting that at one point in her life she’d been out west or lived a long period in Texas. But, it was so subtle that same drawl also indicated that she’d been too far removed from it for it to matter anymore.

“Lost? Maybe.” She took a seat then in the stool next to him, legs spread and leveraged on the step built into the bar’s front for just that purpose. She wasn’t close enough to brush her elbow to his, but close enough for him to scent a mixture of blood, rain, and sandalwood. In the midst there might be a hint of horse musk, but it would be faint at best.

“But, I’m told lost isn’t and entirely unfavorable state of being.” With that, she took a long swallow off her glass and a hit off her smoke, ashing idly. “You?”

The One Night Stand || Open - Kat - 02-19-2015

<img style="avatar" src="" style="max-width:25%;float:right;margin:0 0 18px 18px;]"Limbo."

Korbin looked away while sharing the thought, this word too bold to be pleasant left as it was; unassigned to any emotion he may have felt. "But it ain't so bad, this sort of thing. It could be worse, or at the very least, a bit more boonie. I know ya know what I mean - out in the sticks with no one around. Not that it matters. I always find someone, even if I shouldn' be able to." There wasn't much about the man to indicate he knew what he was talking about, his demeanor rigid and rudimentary while his appearance was just messy. Stains covered his shredded leather jacket, though of what origins, it was best not to dwell on. His skin had scars and scabs of various sizes from his squared features to his hairy knuckles. The hair atop his head was grease slick, missing in patches, and probably unwashed for sometime. If books were judged at face value, Korbin was a trash day treasure from a neighborhood of illiterate thugs.

"But I'm waitin' for someone who ain't gonna show for a while. I know their type, busy type they are. Always pressing their deadlines like they ain't got someone waiting on them. No skin off my back in the long run." Korbin may have had an accent, but it was faint and buried beneath the rumble of his vocal cords, so where it might have been picked up didn't connect with any one area. Maybe eastern European, or maybe somewhere farther south. The bartender had made space between their seat after delivering the bourbon, and Korbin reckoned it had to do with his appearance. Not that he minded or that he would argue she shouldn't shy away. They say you couldn't teach common sense, but sometimes you didn't need to try, and Korbin was afforded a modicum of peace not having to stare Errol down to get the message across. One conversation at a time. He didn't like a crowd.

"Is that some of that new age-y shit-" His head shook vigorously as he prepared himself a second shot. That is two more than he had wanted earlier in the evening. Two more than he actually needed. "Where people say they ain't lost, but they are? Not talkin' GPS or maps or anything like that. But where to go next, what to do next - ya know, positioning." The whiskey didn't taste any better this time he downed it, his lips smacking audibly before he returned to his point. "Displaced souls always have a way of being lost, and the ones who know where their goin' aren't any better off. They only know the road they're on. They get off it, and they're fuckin' lost again. It's a cycle. You know," He pointed to the room with a spin of his pointer, "Limbo."