Prepare for the #LodanRespawn2024 Existing characters may choose to be displace from/have memories of different timelines, thereby allowing returning members the option to retcon their whole character. These changes are the result of the "Unnatural Fog" plot device that is running between now and the Respawn. The plot is simple: no matter where your character is, that place is shrouded in a thick fog that suspends time, but not thoughts or memories, so even if they're repeating the same day over and over again, they continue to remember, so each time feels like a new day. For those retconning OCs; this is where new versions of themselves have the opportunity to replace the old versions. Official lore and tree updates will be announced asap
Post by Maeve Blodeuwedd on Jul 5, 2023 2:52:34 GMT
Maeve was getting a head ache.
Scratch that, she already had one. In fact. She was pretty sure she'd had it for a while. All this squinting into the fog and trying to see more than a few steps ahead of her was wreaking havoc on her noggin. What was up with this weather. And moreso; what was up with this ghost town ambience? Had Lodan declared a new holiday and everyone but her knew about it and had chosen to spend it on a staycation?
"Hello?" She mumbled half heartedly. She was barely even trying. Still she shuffled her feet forward on the weathered street. This particular path felt familiar, so she continued to follow it. If she had to guess, she was in the Theater District. Probably not far from some of her old haunts back before CEAsAL hired her on all official like. What had made her come out this way again?
Her head felt fuzzy, as clouded and foggy as this misty morning... or afternoon... or evening. Whatever the hell it was. She couldn't be sure. Maeve wasn't sure of much actually. "Musta been on hell of a night." she muttered to herself, to have this tough of a hangover and not remember what happened the day before, or even the day before that.... was some kinda feat.
"I'll never drink again," she lied to herself, wishing for the millionth time that she knew where the hell everyone was, or at the very least, where she was going. She wasn't particularly fond of people, but right about now she wouldn't mind seeing a few.
Post by Edgar Anapello on Sept 27, 2023 22:51:55 GMT
“You having a time of this too?” Edgar asked as he walked up to the stranger from out of the fog. He didn’t wear anything on his face, but had thick black gloves covering his hands. It seemed that he would rather suffer through the fog’s effects rather than wear anything to combat them. He had heard her talking to herself and shared her sentiment. “This fog is terrible. Keeping everyone indoors. Bad for business. I go on walks just to see who’s around. And it ain’t really anyone.” He wasn’t sure if she’d pick up his conversation, but it wouldn’t hurt. He’d been awful lonely lately, spending all his time at home reading poetry. Even his clientele had dwindled to nearly nobody. If it weren’t for his savings, he’s have lost the shop by now. Even still, that wouldn’t last him forever.
Post by Maeve Blodeuwedd on Sept 28, 2023 15:47:51 GMT
"For the record, I happen to be someone," Maeve murmured but she wasn't actually offended, she could tell the man didn't mean anything by it, or rather he meant it literally sans today.
"Name's Maeve, I work for CEAsAL as a singer 'n a bouncer, depending on the pub and what day o' the week." She offered her own fingerless gloved hand out to his for a shake. "Mingo's business struggling then?" She asked, not really surprised. Even her sanity was struggling with this weather. This had to be the worst Autumn they'd ever had as far as she could remember... and she'd lived in Lodan her whole life. "What should I call you then?" She asked in turn, adding an offhand compliment "nice gloves."
Post by Edgar Anapello on Sept 28, 2023 21:22:23 GMT
Edgar chuckled dryly at her remark, taking her hand and giving a business-like handshake. He noticed her claws and the fact she didn’t hide them with gloves; a brave lass. But it made sense given her profession. A bouncer who could literally claw your eyes out, now there was an idea. “Pleasure to meet you, Maeve the someone,” he answered playfully. “My name’s Edgar, Edgar Anapello. I take it that you are neither singing nor bouncing today? I’m without work too, hence our chance meeting like this.” He glanced at his gloves when she complimented them, as if he forgot he were wearing them. They were almost always on his person so he hardly noticed them anymore; he didn’t dare leave home without them. He passed as a non-ander very easily, provided he wore them. Twas the gift of having black hair.
After a few moments passed, he ventured another question. “Tell me, Maeve, what do you like to do for fun?” It was something he personally struggled to find, especially since his companion had left, so he’d take any suggestion he found.
"Nothing makes us so lonely as our secrets." -Paul Tournier
Post by Maeve Blodeuwedd on Sept 29, 2023 2:35:51 GMT
"..." What did she like to do for fun?... oh boi. "Well... If I'm irritated, then I like to go to some of the rowdier pubs and start a bar fight. Or if I'm feelin' sentimental, I guess I 'visit' my sister, or have a few drinks. If I'm bored... I guess I do this," She pointed at her feet, walking one foot in front of the other heading no where in particular. "What do you like to do?" If he was feeling rowdy, she could introduce him to some seedier bars outside of CEAsALs circuit for a good old fashion fisticuffs.
Post by Edgar Anapello on Sept 30, 2023 3:00:42 GMT
Edgar laughed lightly as her answers. They weren’t any of the things he’d usually consider for fun, but they were good answers nonetheless. “Honestly can’t say I’ve ever been in a bar fight,” he told her with a smirk. “I’m more of a homebody. I like to read. Most of what I do is rather boring I must admit. But with this fog stifling so much of everything, I think I’m in the mood for anything unique. Just to get a change of pace for once.” He’d go wherever she led him, for better or worse. It wasn’t like the man had much to lose.
"Nothing makes us so lonely as our secrets." -Paul Tournier
Post by Maeve Blodeuwedd on Sept 30, 2023 14:17:37 GMT
Maeve tried not to let her surprise show. It didn’t work. “A feline Ander that ain’t been in a cat fight? Like ever?” That didn’t sound possible to her, but then again not everyone had to bite and scratch their way out to survive. Some lived in something called ‘civilized society’. Color her impressed though. “Seems weird to me,” she shrugged. “Nothin wrong with it o’course but at some point every feline aught to flex their claws. Like a right a passage or whatnot.” She mulled it over, and then asked. “If you are really down for anything how about we uncuff those claws of yours and initiate them? I know a good place.”
Post by Edgar Anapello on Oct 3, 2023 20:24:43 GMT
It didn’t take Edgar long to answer her suggestion. “Sure, why not. As long as we get a drink or two first,” he said with a grin. He hadn’t ever ‘flexed his claws’ as she said. He used them daintily, carefully, to pick up a thin page of the book and turn it over, or draw small lines in his work. His precision with his claws was very good, but brute force was never something he had tried with them. This Maeve character was gaining his favor surprisingly quickly; Edgar had never made friends easily before, but something about her was smooth. Maybe it was the fog, and his lack of stimulation. Or maybe it was just her, and her feisty attitude. As they walked, he steadily took off his gloves and revealed his claws. They were blacker than his hair and polished, reflecting the light. Each digit was evenly filed and groomed. The care of his nails was something Edgar took pleasure in, however now he expected Maeve to comment on it somehow. Either way, they were sharp enough to do damage, and likely too strong to break.
"Nothing makes us so lonely as our secrets." -Paul Tournier
Post by Maeve Blodeuwedd on Oct 4, 2023 16:02:48 GMT
"A drink sounds like a fine idea," She responded with a nod, then led them in the direction of one of her favorite holes in the wall.
When the other Ander took of his gloves, Mae couldn't help but side eye a glance. She'd never seen claws quite to pristine, they almost looked unreal. Where was the dirt? The chips? How were they so... polished? She ran the tips of her own claws across the palms of her hands caught up in thoughts of comparison. No... no comparison is the thief of joy, or so she had heard. She uncurled her fingers and continued toward their destination, putting the rest out of her mind.
"This joint is usually full of folk with a lot of big mouths but puny muscles." Lots of racists too, which is why she liked to frequent here when she needed to blow off some steam. The sign hanging over the door read "The Last Candle" and showed a carved out candle wick lit over the rim of a beer stein. "After you," She offered politely.
Once inside, she was met with a bit of a surprise. For a place that had always been bustling, this looked dead as a door nail. One old geezer was passed out on the bar in front of an empty mug. The rest of the bar was a ghost town, save for the barkeep themselves. She frowned but still approached the bar. "We did agree to drinks," She spoke. "Maybe we can quench our thirsts while we wait for trouble."
Post by Edgar Anapello on Oct 9, 2023 20:51:56 GMT
Big mouths and little muscles, now that was an idea that made Edgar laugh. Outwardly, he only chuckled a little but in his head he repeated the phrase over and over again. He wondered what the reverse would be like; a puny mouth and big muscles. And then realized that it’d be one of those doormat bodyguards, the kind that does whatever and never thinks about it for himself. A big mouth was funnier, always led to situations. Which was what he was trying to find right now, a situation.
He braced himself when they arrived at the bar. The last candle… like the last light? Or someone’s last hope? He wanted to analyze the name like he did poetry and quickly realized that this was a silly thing to do. So he walked inside and blinked. “Well, at least it’s not foggy in here,” he commented, following Maeve to the bar. He took a seat next to her and nodded. “I’ll take a glass of brandy, neat” he said to the bartender. He didn’t like light drinks like beer or ale, but rather preferred something with a kick. Looking over, he curious to see what the bouncer would drink herself.
After they had drinks in hand, he offered her another question. “What does trouble usually look like?” There were answers he could think of himself, but really tonight was about knowing what his companion thinks.
"Nothing makes us so lonely as our secrets." -Paul Tournier
Post by Maeve Blodeuwedd on Oct 13, 2023 2:35:57 GMT
"Whiskey," she ordered after Edgar did. Brandy fellow, desert in a glass, very nice! She clapped him on the shoulder and rotated around to place her elbows on the bar while they waited for their orders to be filled.
"What's trouble usually look like?" She repeated the question, watching the front door as it pushed open and an eerie puff of fog rolled in, so the bipeds had to pass through the blanket of mist like phantoms. "Tall, gruff, likely hasn't showered or shaved in longer than their memory serves.... and dresses kinda like.... that - " She flicked her chin up to subtly point at the group of three new comers who appeared momentarily just as surprised at the emptiness in the pub as she had been when she first entered. The mist that came in with them evaporated after the door closed. The seemingly human trio recovered quickly and started walking toward the bar to saddle up next to the feline ander pair.
In her head Maeve gave them each a simple nickname: Hatman, shorty, and grey eyes.
The bartender placed the drinks they ordered on the bar top in front of them and turned his attention to the new arrivals. For Maeve's part - she didn't recognize this riffraff, which was good because it probably meant they didn't recognize her. "W'evers on tap man," Hatman said, gesturing to his friends as if to say for them too. Knocking his own hat back in the process and having to fix it to sit forward again.
"Here kitty kitty," the shortest man said, oogling Maeve like a creep. Oh yeah- they definitely did not know her. All the better. He laughed at his own pet talk, musta thought himself cute.
The first guy made a disgusting sound in his throat, then spit a loogie right into Edgars Brandy. "C'mon slim, y'don'wan none of that trash, she's prolly got rabies."
"Eh phil! You serving the strays now? How the mighty have fallen," the third man said, looking cross at Edgar with his dull grey eyes.
Post by Edelweiss Fjäril on Oct 22, 2023 20:27:17 GMT
A second waft of quickly dispersing mist is the sole indicator that someone else entered behind the rambuctious humans. The newcomers — another trio — make a set of neat, slender figures that by all means should not belong in that place. They walk in, the silence punctuated by an absence of footsteps or even old door hinges closing.
The first two practically slide through the bar and head towards the backroom, nevermind the barkeep or any patrons present. Only the shorter one, a young woman with platinum-silver hair and equally silvery eyes takes a step back and detaches from her companions to greet the two Felines instead.
"Oh? Mr. Anapello? It's been a while." Pearl greets, a polite smile given a dangerous air thanks to her sharp fangs, before she turns and gives Maeve a respectful nod. "Ms. Blodeuwedd as well. Are you here for work, or to unwind?"
Needless to mention, she's completely and undeniably ignoring the racist trio that settled right next to them.
"All power tends to corrupt and absolute power corrupts absolutely. Great men are almost always bad men." - John Dalberg-Acton
Post by Maeve Blodeuwedd on Oct 23, 2023 18:25:36 GMT
Maeve hadn't noticed the second waft of mist, but she did catch the three silent bodies moving in her peripheral. Two of which made no bones about beelining for the backroom. That was none of her business though as far as she was concerned. The third figure strode toward them and greeted her with familiarity. This one she didn't mind being recognized by.
"Good to see you, Pearl." She responded in a conversational tone while she watched Edgars face in response to the racists insults and vulgarity toward his drink. Out the side of her mouth she gave a quick answer to the question that followed. "definitely came to unwind." No offense to Phil's bar; but Mae had better haunts to work at these days.
Post by Edgar Anapello on Oct 23, 2023 19:13:19 GMT
Edgar reached for his drink when it was handed to him, his hand feeling the smooth glass as his claws clinked against it slightly. And then the door opened with theater-like timing as the underbelly of the city waltzed in. Edgar wasn’t sure what to do at first, so he followed Mae’s lead. She listened as the three men came up to her and leered. And then one spit into Edgar’s drink; the disgusting yellow-green mucus floating with a ring of bubbles around it. It made him scowl. But Maeve hadn’t started the brawl yet, so he held himself. His hand gripped the glass tighter, ready to unleash some growing hatred in his gut. But he held himself well, appearing calm. It was his strong suit, that intense need to be polite in any situation, even an absurd one.
But then the door opened again. Edgar didn’t look towards it at first, and then a girl with white hair walked up and greeted them. She knew Edgar’s name, but his memory was fuzzy about her’s. He must have known her, but couldn’t recall from where. Maeve filled it in for him, Pearl was her name. Well, if she knew Maeve then surely she wouldn’t be surprised at what happens next. He decided to start small. He picked up his glass and swirled it in his hand, peering at the liquid in it. And then he turned quickly and splashed it into the face of hatman, his face becoming a cat-like scowl. Before the man could do anything, Edgar swung his fist and landed a blow to the face, knocking him back.
“That was good brandy,” he sneered, ready to see what would come at him next.
"Nothing makes us so lonely as our secrets." -Paul Tournier
Post by Edelweiss Fjäril on Oct 23, 2023 21:04:04 GMT
While she saw no recognition on Edgar's face, Pearl couldn't say she felt surprised. It had been years, and she surely looks different as an 18yo compared to back when she was 13. But the man was one hard to mistake: black-haired, black-eyed, in full black from neck to toe; still exact replica of when she'd last met him. And the fact he'd given her magically charmed gloves for free will warrant him a friendly smile and greeting from her until the day said gloves wear off.
"In that case, I hope you don't mind-" Her question to Maeve is interrupted by Edgar splashing spit-on booze. "...Mr. Anapello, that was unwise. They 'probably got rabies'."
Aaaaaand one racist is decked in the face. Yes, rabid for sure.
"Ah, Phil, my friends might make a bit of a mess in the back, but worry not. Boss said she'll compensate for your troubles once we're done." With that said... might as well. Unwinding sounds good to her too, so she shifts and lands a high kick on Racist 2's nethers. "That also applies to whatever I do here up front."
Last Edit: Oct 23, 2023 21:11:20 GMT by Edelweiss Fjäril: Grammar
"All power tends to corrupt and absolute power corrupts absolutely. Great men are almost always bad men." - John Dalberg-Acton
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