Open World Post: Aviario, CT

[dr_feistus]

At first glance, Aviario could be any normal small New England city - it's got its fair share of well-preserved historical buildings, a lovely park, a reasonably happy community, and a decent amount of "townies" who've been around forever and know everyone and everything there is to know about living there.

At second glance, there are strange things that were probably a trick of the mind - a flash of light, an animal looking at you as though it were watching you, someone who just lit their cigarette without a lighter.

At third glance, you start looking closer, and find out at least one thing: magic is real. Depending on how closely you look ... you might find out more than you wanted to know about who uses it, and why, and how.

Just pass through, crash with someone you happen to have met before for a weekend, poke your nose where it doesn't belong ... it's all up to you, the city is an open book. Just ... don't go near that old house on the hill. The owner's really tired of having to turn away everyone who goes up there just to ask about the "ancient curse".

Comments

Dr. Paul Feistus - OTA

[dr_feistus]

[as you're walking through the West side of town, checking out all the shops, there's a tall, thin man making his way down the sidewalk. he's as harmless-looking as everyone else you've passed, save for that interesting cane he's leaning on as he walks. it's taller than a usual one - nearly up to his shoulder - and there's a red sort of stone on top. as he reaches the corner, his briefcase knocks against a newspaper box and comes open, papers spilling everywhere]

-- Damn!

hello, have a Scottish mage, you're welcome

[throughmyhands]

Through a long series of events, another man had found himself in Aviario, and his second priority is finding a possible spot for a shop. He's tall and thin as well, more or less, his hands are stuffed into the pockets of his jeans. He walks with a slight limp to his gait, and a distracted look to him, lost in thought.

Well, more or less.

As he turns the corner, there's a clatter and a spill of paper which catches him up short. A couple of pages cover one of his dark, sharp-toed boots. He gives them an annoyed look before reaching down to grab up a handful before they blow away in the wind. If possible, he may even sneak a peek at a sheet before he hands it back.

Y'should be more careful.

((and here is where I ask, OOCly, if Dugan is able to sense any sort of magic or oddities on the surface of Feistus' mind or aura, if you will. He's not digging deep to look inside, just a cursory glance, or perhaps a cat taking a quick sniff before deciding if you're interesting. Or he just seems human, IT DOESN'T MATTER. but it does, because it will affect ... things. I guess look here if you're curious, and my rambling makes no sense. aheh.))

oh em gee squee, yessss

[dr_feistus]

The other man looks annoyed, as well, though it's more at his own embarrassing predicament than anything else. He leans on the staff heavily as he kneels to pick up the bulk of the papers - proof that he's not the only one with a bad leg. As Dugan seems to be a sharp sort of gentleman, it might even stick out like a sore thumb that all the little eddies of wind which tend to swirl leaf and paper into little tornadoes seem to be blowing the papers back in his direction, and within his reach. Dark eyes flicker up toward the Scotsman, as he reaches for the paper - a barely legible scrawl on an insurance referral form.

Most days, I am. I suppose it's time I went shopping for a new case.

He offers him a politely distanced smile. Thank you.

((Paul has access to power, but very little of his own innate ability - what he can get, he draws off the ley lines running under the town ... so most of what Dugan would pick up would actually be coming from the staff he uses as a walking cane. There's also a bit of protective energy coming from one pocket of his lab coat - a little spell bundle sewn into the lining. Let me know if you need any more!))

Natalie Marlowe-Feistus - OTA

[bunnydoesntlikeyou]

[in the park, at the center of town, there's a young woman sitting on the steps of the gazebo, humming quietly to herself as she watches everyone come and go. there's a thermos sitting beside her, and she's rolling a worry stone idly between her fingers]

[putuporshutup]

[Meg isn't really a stranger to finding herself odd new places to lay low, but this one is particularly odd. It seems harmless enough, though, and the park seems like as good a place as any to get a feel for the people here.

As she watches, she notices another woman across the way who seems to be doing the same thing. Interesting.

After a few moments, she'll walk casually in that direction, nonchalantly leaning up against the railing of the gazebo and nodding to her.]

You're watching everyone.

[It's an observation more than a question. Meg isn't big on small talk, and she's betting if this one makes a habit of it, she might know things.]

[bunnydoesntlikeyou]

Course..... [she tilts her head at Meg, able to sense the power, but unable to tell what it is or where it's from. all she knows is that He wants to know more. either she could he helpful, or a threat, and there is a Very Big Difference.]

Are you always Queen of the Obvious, dove? [it's said with a little smile that could really be taken whatever way Meg wants]

Muahahaha

[fishy_go_byebye]

[Del didn't so much arrive as lean back into being there, seated comfortably beside the girl. With her weight resting on one hand, she started to toy with the thermos between them, clicking the top open and closed, open and closed.]

Crowley - OTA

[not_that_crowley]

[in the North end of town, near the hospital, there's a little complex of shops. it's looking a little more run-down than the rest of the city, but still in good shape, and not completely a dump. besides, there's a cafe nearby that looks like it's relatively busy for the time of day. near the on-ramp of the parking garage, there's a man in tattered jeans and a denim jacket covered in pins and patches, lurking in the half-light like he belongs there.

as he lights a cigarette, the extra light picks up the green and blue highlights in his hair, and he looks up at you, sharply]

Somethin' I can do for ya?

[westgaterider]

[Stopping through in Aviario, Scott couldn't help but stretch his legs. He needed a break, and that little side-adventure through the countryside of Conneticut chased by cops who hadn't liked the look of his UK plates and the reaper on his back hadn't helped his mood.

He needed off and a walk about, maybe some coffee.

So, having parked up his Kawasaki Ninja ZX-6R, sure most of the others in the US Charters preferred Harleys, but in the UK, Harleys were more of a collector's item than a feasable method of riding, and Scott liked feeling the speed in his body, he heads down the on-ramp, past the other man, his kutte proudly showing the Reaper with the decals "Sons of Anarchy - Newcastle." Bold as brass.

He, of course, stops, looking over his shoulder at the man in the semi-darkness, having not noticed him before.]

Eh?

[ladiesss]

[enter one horrible Sluagh, her fae maen neatly and thoroughly disguised by a magical human appearance. a gothy, gangly teenager kind of appearance, but still. she's approaching this man with a look nothing short of disgruntled on her face. she likes all the extra magic, it's much better than the soul-sucking banality of the last city, but she can't tell if she's in reality or in the dreaming or if any of these people are going to try and eat her life essence the second she stops paying attention.

she's getting tired of swapping worlds. this is bogus. she speaks very quietly, practically a whisper.]

Yeah, hi, uh. Can I be totally weird and ask you some questions that make me sound like I'm crazy?

Re: Crowley - OTA

[perfectpaige]

[And there's one teenaged girl walking toward you, looking thoroughly confused..]

Hey... Do you happen to know where I could find a map... Or even the name of this town? I'm uh kinda new around here.

[She gives him her best winning smile.]

Dr. Jon Knight

[knightofthedead]

A (OTA):
[you find yourself in an apartment building on the East side of town. maybe you're visiting an old friend (and maybe this IS the old friend?), but for whatever reason, just as you're getting off the elevator, one of the doors at the end of the hall opens. Jon backs out, struggling to fit his laundry basket through the door ...the pile of clothes is big enough to require a basket twice its size. as he's just about to close the door with his foot, a blur of grey and black scoots out and tears its way down the hall.

upon closer inspection, you realize it's a cat with a dirty sock dangling from its mouth]

DAMMIT! Get back here, you fuzzy little fuckhead...


B (Medical/Procedural Only):

[they've directed you to the morgue, down in the basement at the end of a small corridor. the door's open, and you can faintly pick out the sound of upbeat music, which gets louder as you get closer. once you reach the doorway, the only personnel in sight is not a tech in a labcoat and scrubs, but a short redhead in a white blazer and black slacks. his feet are up on a guerney, which holds no body, but a pile of paperwork weighted down with a bowl that looks like it was made out of an actual human skull. the bowl's full of popcorn, and he reaches up to snag a handful as he looks over the clipboard in his hands.

you're probably going to have to shout over the music.]

A, please! have fun with this guy,it's the first time I've officially played him

[black_ice_trickster]

Hey, it's that guy from down the hall, you know the one you hardly see and doesn't seem to come out of his apartment much. He looks like he needs a meal, a shave, a bath, and a few days of sleep. He likely doesn't smell too wonderful, mostly of old sweat and fresh tobacco.

The cat doesn't stop runni9ng when he sees the barefoot, shirtless man appear at the end of the hall, and in fact runs directly between his feet and into the man's dimly lit apartment.

The man sighs and gives the other man a tired look that could be best described as B|

Well, fuck. Thanks. That's just what I needed. More laundry.

Moooooooorgue

[say_it_thrice]

[Hey, Jon. There's a thumping noise that doesn't seem to be part of the music. Is that knocking? And.... is it coming from one of those drawers?]

Owen Evers - OTA

[unluckyname]

[there's a little antique shop on the riverside of the South End - the door's open and the windows are full of nicely-arranged displays. once you step inside, it's cramped, but looks as though what was once a colossal mishmash of clutter and tchotchkes is in the slow but steady process of being put into order. there's a smell of fresh pancakes coming from somewhere, oddly enough.

the man behind the counter is currently slouched over it, elbows propped against the glass of the display case, staring intently at an old fondue pot that looks like the 60s don't even want it back.]

Muahaha x2

[fishy_go_byebye]

[The bell on the shop's door jingled, chiming out an awkward scale. Footsteps, made quiet by the bare feet and slow pace, padded across the room. The steps turned into rustles, and then the sound of knobbly knees thunking across the floor.]

Mm-hm?

[thunk thunk, rustle.]

Really?

[fxyhacker]

[Shandra creeps up behind Owen, peering over his shoulder]

Who's winning?

ok have another guy I've never played before and be my test subject muhah

[because_its_cool]

Hello, antique shop.

A man in his mid-sixties enters, shuffling and skittish. He seems set on a mission to find something, flitting about the clutter and studying all sorts of bits and baubles. He lingers over the rare books, fingertips brushing each and every spine with reverence. And then, the man startles as if woken from a dream and hurries over to the counter with a wide grin.

Are those pancakes? My son, Peter, loves blueberries, though I prefer fresh strawberries with whipped cream and a touch of cinnamon. I used to shape them like whales. The pancakes, not the berries, they'd be too small. I could have used an ophthalmic laser, but they weren't available at the time.

He stares into the middle distance for a moment, caught up in the memory.

He loved those whales.

Francis McMillon - OTA

[ignorethevoices]

[Main Street is fairly quiet this time of day. Even so, a woman crosses the street to avoid walking past the only other pedestrian on this particular stretch of road.

He doesn't even seem to notice as he scuffs his feet down the sidewalk. His head is down, eyes fixed on the worn journal in his hand, his felt tip pen flying across the page. Most people would have a difficult time writing and walking at the same time but he seems to manage just fine. He sidesteps a parking meter without even looking up, blindly walking the same path he's taken almost every day for years. At each crosswalk he pauses, nervously clutching the journal to his chest as his eyes dart around to make sure the coast is clear before continuing on his way. If anyone dares get close enough they may hear him muttering]

Not this time. They tricked me last time but they won't get me this time. No. No. They won't. I've figured them out. I know. I know. They don't know that I know but I know. They come from the shadows. Get into my brain and pull it apart. Have to be careful. Can't be too careful.

[People around these parts know to give him a wide berth so he's given up watching out for others who may be walking in his path. He hasn't taken tourists into account, however. If he's not careful he might walk right into someone.]

Re: Francis McMillon - OTA

[silentrunning]

[Well now. It's your lucky or unlucky day! There's a tourist around... And she's walking down the same street. She walks past him, not noticing. She's too busy staring around in confusion. But just at that moment, she stops to look at something, giving this guy ample opprotunity to slam into her.

Shandra Davis - OTA

[fxyhacker]

[It's 11 AM on a Monday... why is there a teenager hopping down the street when everyone else is at school?

She doesn't seem bothered as she rocks out to the techno pumping through her ear buds. Grinning and waggling her fingers at the older gentleman shaking his head at her she pulls the wrapper off a fresh lollypop and stuffs it into her mouth as she cuts across the street into the small park in the center of town. She plops herself down at the picnic table, sitting across from some random stranger. Pulling her laptop out of her bag she nods a greeting]

sup?

[birdsbirdsbirds]

[it's 11am on a Monday and Robin has given up trying to do pretty much anything ever. he thinks he might stay at this picnic table for the rest of his life. it'd be easier than bothering with reality. he has chip fries, here. he hasn't had chip fries in like four-hundred years.

everyone keeps calling them "french fries" for some reason, but he has no idea what "french" means, and he's trying not to let it bother him.

so when some highschool cutie drops down at his table all friendly-like, he's surprised enough to stop his mopey munching, straighten up, and shoot her a smile back. what a nice little thing.]

Existential crisis. Real boring. Want some fries?

[he'll hold out the box. c'mooon, you know you want to.]

Emma - OTA

[along_came_a]

[Some of the shops in town are rather crowded this time of day. There's the usual jostling and rude shoulder brushes as people impatiently move to run their last minute errands on their way home from work.

Somewhere in all that bustle, however, there's a tap on your shoulder. You turn to see a woman smiling politely and holding something out to you]

Excuse me. I believe you dropped this.

Have a Chell!

[silentrunning]

[Oh what the heck. She's used to weird places by now, after where she's just come from... But she never expected to find herself in one so soon after just leaving one. Squinting her eyes, she peers around. There's something odd about this place, but she hasn't a single foggy clue just what it is. Don't mind her. She'll just be skittering along the streets, peering in shop windows and acting like a tourist.]

Huh. Nice place.

[She mutters to herself.]

While I'm at it... Paige Woodward (Pump up the Volume)

[perfectpaige]

[Paige Woodward squinted, staring around in confusion. Wait a minute. What was this? She'd just been in the middle of an angry mob of parents and teachers with Cresswood yelling at her, or so she thought... But she couldn't really be sure. Either way, now here she was, in what looked like a quaint little town somewhere obviously NOT Arizona, and there were no teachers or Cresswood or Hubert Humphrey Hell to be seen. She ran the heel of her hand across her eyes and muttered something that is a real rarity in her vocabulary.]

What the... fuck?