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Supernatural Icecapades [19 Nov 2008|10:23pm] After a week-long delay, Mother Nature relinquished the city from an abnormally warm autumn and the temperature dipped enough for the Millennium Park ice skating rink to open. It was a beautiful setting at night. The street lamps gave the artificial lake a golden haze. Its skaters glided across the frozen water with knit caps pulled firmly over chilly ears and scarf fringe flapping behind them. Layers of clothing kept their muscles warm and provided padding so that falls didn't hurt as much. Because it was free, anyone who rented skates or had a personal pair could join in, and so the people circling the rink had a varied level of skill. Some weaved in and out of the crowds with ease, hands laced behind their backs, confident that they weren't going to fall. Others inched along, taking short, choppy steps, their arms outstretched to prevent disaster. Rosalyn had grown up in Chicago and, while Millennium Park had existed only a tiny fraction of her life, the park was now her favorite place to go during the winter. She was an avid ice skater, possessing none of the caution that caused people to flail about, grabbing onto strangers for rescue. She skated in a sweater, skirt, and dark leggings, her hair in a ponytail that whipped the air like a black banner. Occasionally she pulled off to the side and sat on a bench to people-watch, but most of the night she was on her feet. At least until her stomach began to growl. Because this was one of the first nights of the season, Rose spared little time for sitting on her rear end. He never could understand it. Gavin sniffed the air as he stepped out into the biting cold, and shook his head with a slight grin. Maybe that was why he found himself wandering the streets, every step getting him a little bit closer. Every year since he was a boy, he would go out, and just watch. Spectate on the thing that continued to puzzle him all through his life. Rubbing his palms together, he brought his hands up to tug his jacket closer, before sticking them into his pockets with a sigh. Crossing the street he managed to move through the crowds without too much bother. Gavin tipped his chin up, glancing briefly at the sky and how clear it was, before letting his dark gaze fallow the many shapes gliding just in front of him. One hand was pulled free of its warmth and brought up to rub across his bristled chin. "Why would people stick blades to their feet and run over a bed of ice?" It baffled him, and while he spoke to himself he pulled free a small flask. Twisting the cap off, he took a quick sip. It wasn't alcohol, it was warm bovril with a dash of chili powder. Certain to keep anyone warm. A group of teenagers with chainlinked arms slipped past the werewolf, going in slow motion compared to most of the skaters. Getting through them would've been like a return to childhood games of Red Rover, so as Rose gained on them, she was forced to veer to the edge of the rink and squeeze by, within inches of the spectators. "Would you nosebleeds punch it, already?" she chastised. The outburst was flavored with an antiquated manner of speaking that was easily recognizable as Rosalyn Voorhies. As she zoomed by, the vampire's sharp sense of smell identified a werewolf and she nearly lost her balance rubbernecking, trying to figure out who it was. But the flow of skaters kept her moving forward and taking another peek would have to wait until she'd circled round the rink. The brunette picked up the pace. Never had she noticed, until she had a reason to be impatient, how many children were out there getting their 'ice legs', or how many huddles of adolescents stopped to socialize in the midst of everything. Had she been human, Rose would've been winded by the time she came back around and skidded to a stop at the railing. Gavin could smell the scent, but he couldn't place it. Just that it was familiar. Perking up, he took the opportunity to really look at the figures on the ice. A lot of young kids with the adults off at the sides, watching or chatting. If someone were going to take one without anyone noticing, it would be a good time. That made it seem worse, and the werewolf narrowed his eyes and sniffed again, turning just in time to see a pale brunette whizz on by before coming to a rather abrupt stop a few feet away. Bemused, he walked towards her as the corners of his mouth quirked up. "You look like you've had a right spook." The werewolf kept his voice low, as if that could disguise the amusement within it. "Your call centre not up to scratch?" It was maybe a little cruel that he was poking at Rose, but you had to take the opportunity when it arrived at your feet. With a slight cough, and a bemused look, Gavin offered, "Hello again." "Why don't you give me a call sometime and find out for yourself?" Rose gave him a smile that was as sweet as apple pie. ( Figure-Eights ) Take a Bite

Museum Thread, part 2 [06 Nov 2008|09:13pm] http://asylums.insanejournal.com/city_limits/110435.html Take a Bite

Late Night at the Museum, part 1 [03 Nov 2008|07:11pm] http://asylums.insanejournal.com/city_limits/108924.html Take a Bite

Rose and Vine on the Train [05 Oct 2008|11:00pm] With the world as it had become, it was only a matter of time until someone opened the demonic answer to McDonalds. Such a place existed in Chicago. It didn't look like anything unsavory from the outside, really, because it operated under the front of a regular butcher shop called, ridiculously enough, Moo and Oink, Inc. Rosalyn thought that was a real scream. A vampire could emerge from the back of the place with a lidded cup full of blood, a hamburger as raw as if ripped directly from the cow, and french fries with special 'dipping sauce'. When she boarded the el later on, the Moo and Oink bag full of eats still dangled from her fingertips. She slurped noisily on her straw, having never had the patience to save very much for washing down her meal. The brunette vampire walked down the aisle of the train in a veritable saunter of good cheer, like a child who knew they had a sack full of twinkies, and it was lunchtime. The seat she took was in the back, where the car was nearly empty. The paper bag rustled as she unloaded the hamburger onto her broad, blue skirt and smoothed the creases out of the wrapper. She picked up the bloody bun and took a voracious bite. Nearly empty, until Gavin stepped on the train. A few of his boys behind him, laughing and joking without getting too rowdy. They settled themselves near the front of the car where there was enough seats for all of them. Gavin chose to sit near the back. The quiet observer, should he spot any trouble, he would be ready to warn the boys. No one ever made a move without his say so. Not out of fear, but respect and love. Family, that was there through thick and thin. When he was sure they were fine, he let his own attention travel over the car. Something didn't smell right. There was blood, but no one was bleeding. It wasn't human either... His eyebrows drew close together as he sniffed quietly again. It was unsettling him. Why would a bleeding animal be on a train? As politely as he could, he let his gaze travel over the rest of the cart. An old guy was snoozing in his jacket, a woman was eating a burger and then there was him. It took a moment to realise that she wasn't as she appeared. The sweet coppery smell was winning against his other senses, assaulting them almost. Enough to have him belatedly realise that she was a vampire. Which meant it was only a matter of seconds before she smelled him for what he was. This was not the place to have any kind of battle. Gavin tensed himself, but remained firmly in his seat, watching her through his peripheral vision. As if in direct contradiction of Gavin's worry of an impending fight, Rosalyn looked up from her hamburger and met the werewolf's eyes over the seat. And winked. Oh, sure, she could sniff out the pack. There was no telling if it was self-preservation that kept her from being confrontational (she was badly outnumbered) or her simple disinterest in getting into a brawl without reason. Rosalyn wasn't a scrapper unless her back was pressed to a wall and, sometimes, when her opponents got her up against one, they forgot why they'd originally put her there and wound up doing something else. Either way, she appeared to be perfectly at ease eating her fast food. Granted it would've tasted much better if the blood hadn't come from a cow, but it was a throwback to earlier times, like the woman herself. The wink caught Gavin off guard, and he found himself rubbing a large hand across his bristled jaw. Averting his eyes momentarily before glancing back at the dark haired vampire. This was... Something he had never encountered before. A vampire that was being so blatant about eating a raw burger, with no intention of starting a scene. Tipping his head, he made no move to hide the way he was watching her consume it. In all honesty, it was making his own stomach growl, and looked down at it with a sigh. He wasn't naive enough to believe his own restaurant was the only one to cater to special guests. It was just a little startling to realise a vampire would choose it over a walking meal. Although, he wasn't about to hand out praise and start applauding her. They knew utterly nothing about each other, and frankly, that was probably the best way to keep it. Gavin had it ingrained in his head that while werewolves could be dangerous, vampires were downright evil. You didn't mix oil and water. Rosalyn had expressive eyebrows, and the way they quirked revealed she could tell his mind was working overtime. That wasn't a bother, and neither was how the werewolf kept looking at her. Truth be told, she was accustomed to people watching her and thought it was a hoot, whether they looked because she was dressed like an extra from Grease or because they thought she was pretty. "What's buzzin', cousin?" she asked after swallowing a mouthful of blood-saturated beef. "You want a bite?" Rosalyn held up the sandwich. A laugh curved her mouth, because she had just reminded herself of a bunch of commercials that came on the tube. Just two kookie kids bonding over a happy meal. People mistook her for vacant at times, but she wasn't dumb. She knew she shouldn't dangle the hook at him, because the likelihood of their encounter ending well was slim, but didn't have much in the way of impulse control. ( Family Reunion? ) Take a Bite

A Bookworm, A Bombshell, and A Butcher [19 Sep 2008|03:13pm] After that incident in his apartment Tseng had thrown himself into his work - figuratively of course - and had spent every hour he had at the library. It wasn't hard to get overtime given that they had a lot of cataloguing to do and reorganising was a bitch. Everybody else hated it, Tseng didn't. It helped to keep his mind in order and stop his thoughts from straying to places it shouldn't really go. He was currently up a stepladder, reaching the very top shelf of a six shelf bookcase. He had one hand in between books as the other slid books into the gaps in the appropriate places. His work would have been easier if it hadn't been for the long dark hair in his face. Tseng blew out a breath and stopped for a moment, raking his fingers through it to tie his hair at the base of his neck. He scratched at his collarbone as he paused for a moment in what he was doing, taking a look at the books still left to put away. It was a shame nobody took the time to read them and the head librarian had taken it upon herself to put them on the more dust ridden shelves. "Get over it, Tseng." He rolled his eyes at himself and wondered if he'd been born this dorky or it was just something that happened? The glasses on his nose were the next things to be pushed up, not that they seemed to make a world of difference to his eyesight. He grunted faintly as he wrestled with the next book which was by far the biggest book he had ever seen in his life with the exception of those he'd read in Japan. A pair of black and white shoes announced another person's approach as they made little pat-pat-pats against the tile floor. They sounded like a girl's dainty feet in Sunday shoes. The woman wearing them came around the corner of the stacks. She was small in stature, but quite obviously grown up. She wore a black dress that puffed around her legs, as if held away from her by a cloud of discreet crinoline. There was ruby red lipstick on her mouth, a sharp contrast to her black hair. Between her fingers, Rosalyn clasped a scrap of paper with a reference number scribbled on it in spiderwebbed handwriting. The old-fashioned script looked as if an elderly person might have written it. She cleared her throat and looked up at the man on the ladder. "Excuse me, I don't mean to bug," she apologized, though she clearly did. Rosalyn laced her fingers in front of her skirt. "Could you help me find something? I'm looking for this book, but I'm just the pits with computers. I think I might've written this down wrong." Tseng turned his head and for a brief moment he looked a lot like a deer caught in headlights and even held his breath as if he was about to be run over. It was after a moment of open staring and a few owlish blinks of dark eyes that Tseng finally found his voice again. "You... uh, yeah." He cleared his throat and hurriedly put away the books in his hand, ignoring how fingers fumbled and palms sweat. "I can do that." Of course he could, it was what he was hired for, right? He managed the rungs of the ladder fine until the last one. Tseng got his ankle caught and stumbled and he would have landed on his face if not for the grip he had on the nearby shelf. "So..." He began, obviously a little flushed from his previous ineptitude. "You have any idea of what the book might be called? Or what it's about?" Rosalyn smiled when he got his foot untangled from the stepladder. The glasses on his face were real coke bottles. She reached out and put her fingertip on the bridge of his nose. "Careful, you almost lost your peepers," she purred, nudging them up into place. The brunette held up the slip for him to see. "It's called... From Here to Eternity, by James Jones. Have you read it?" ( Easy as Pie ) ( Then Again, Maybe Not ) Take a Bite

North Side Summerfest [16 Aug 2008|11:34am] http://asylums.insanejournal.com/city_limits/38588.html Take a Bite

Just Us Girls [07 Aug 2008|01:21am] ‘Oh, life could be a dream If I could take you up in paradise up above If you would tell me I'm the only one that you love Life could be a dream, sweetheart Oh, life could be a dream If only all my precious plans would come true If you would let me spend my whole life lovin' you Life could be a dream, sweetheart Now every time I look at you Something is on my mind If you do what I want you to Baby, we'd be so fine!’ At just past 10pm on a Wednesday evening, the karaoke bar at 4424 Montrose Avenue was in full swing. One after another, brave souls gathered the fortitude to get on stage and belt out a tune to an audience that was just as bolstered by test-tube shots of sugary liquor as were their singing counterparts. Often it took liquid courage to endure either the performances or being a spectator. And for those who did not drink, there was always the option of shoving mozzarella cheese sticks into one’s ears for the duration of a sorority girl’s rendition of ABBA’s ’Dancing Queen’. For the moment, however, the patrons had been wooed into a pleasant, nostalgic mood by the dollsome woman on stage. She was a tiny thing behind the microphone stand, brunette in hair, petite in waist, and scandalously curved everywhere else. She wore a monogrammed sweater, a pencil skirt, and saddle shoes. As she crooned her way through an old Crew Cuts song, she kept her hands behind her back and swayed back and forth, her voice as smooth and honeyed as a modern-day Marilyn Monroe. Rosalyn King Voorhies was a vampire, and had been since 1954, when her rich husband invited a lawyer into their home for a cocktail party. She had been a shameless tease in her girlhood, and an even more shameless adulterer once married. One thing led to another and Rose had become trapped in a tragedy of her own design. As it turned out, lawyers were indeed as soulless as people claimed. But death had its upsides. Fifty-nine years after the unfortunate incident in her husband’s study, Lawrence Voorhies (or ‘the nosebleed square’, as she called him) was dead as a post, and his no-good, cheating wife lived on. It wasn't her usual type of dwelling, but hell, nothing so far in Chicago had been usual type of anything. Deciding that, quite frankly, she had been doing damn good at staying fairly straight laced, the witch had slipped into dark, forest green shirt and black pants and headed out. After a couple of beers at one club, she went on a search for another and stumbled upon the karaoke bar that she now found herself seated in. The atmosphere was relaxed, friendly, it just bubbled a genuine happy glow and Purity found herself grinning and leaning her back against the bar. Shoulders resting lightly as she looked around, her green eyes finally settling on the woman singing. There was no doubt about it, she did the song justice, and it looked like everyone in the place knew it. Purity was of course one of them that found themselves clapping as the woman finished. Upon finishing her song, Rosalyn reluctantly left the spotlight behind, though she made sure to lay a red-lipped peck on the KJ’s cheek on her way by. It was a sure-fire method of making sure that, should the line to go another round prove long, the brunette’s name would magically make its way to the top a second time. Being somewhat of a frequenter to Sidekicks, she had entrusted her clutch with the bartender, and that’s where she went to collect it. A shapely hip lifted onto the stool and she began to rummage through its contents, quite meticulous in locating what she wanted, so that she never revealed what she kept inside. Though the items were as mundane as lipstick, powder, perfume, eyelash curler, cigars, a book of matches, and her money, Rose was a believer in keeping her beauty secrets to herself. ( Heya, Clyde ) ( Just for Kicks ) Take a Bite

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