Mar. 5th, 2014

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[personal profile] vtmod
THE TAG SYSTEM

Details under cut. )

hell yeah

Mar. 5th, 2014 09:08 am
autopilots: (h)
[personal profile] autopilots
[ He's sitting on a piece of concrete that's been cut away from a larger slab of concrete. It was probably part of a wall before; now it's only good for sitting on, and Raleigh doesn't mind it. It's as good a place to sit on as any.

Raleigh's picking at the dirt on his hardhat, when he looks over and sees someone loitering at the construction area. He knows it's been clearly marked as a dangerous area. ]


You're not supposed to be here without at least a hat on, you know.
larue: (the world is just a teller)
[personal profile] larue
[ London, 2063.

The fog is thick tonight. It paints the world a particular shade of gray that blends streets and buildings together, so much that the glow of the street lamps seem to come from nowhere and everywhere at once.

A curious thing that you see though, is the sight of a young man in his mid-twenties, dressed in a deep crimson suit as he comes to a stop at one corner. There's a distinct click as he lights up a cigarette, the same hand that stows the gunmetal Zippo back in his pocket fishing out a phone that he brings to his ear. ]


All quiet on my end.
vulpin: (Default)
[personal profile] vulpin
[OOC: Both settings loosely from his canon aka fantasy early 19th century Europe. The first is a dreamscape if you don't want to think about world-switching logistics. Also if icons swap it's because I've gotten around to finishing his new set]

a. [Something about this place doesn't feel quite right. Like he knows that he's dreaming, but he sure as fuck doesn't know this place. Looks like the gardens in Nephele, but... bigger. More impressive. Like they'd decided one wasn't enough and just piled more on top - trees and flowers and fancy little open buildings that probably had a name he didn't know. But in sort of a nice way. Helps that all the paths are even, and there are plenty of benches. One of which he's sitting on, for the moment.]

b. [This bar is almost the same as the last six they've passed through, though with slightly better booze. Nowhere near as bad as some of the dives in the Lower City, but everything past the Perblanches was rough. Rural, Felix would probably say. If he felt like talking and not being a total asshole at the same time, which was getting to be a pretty fucking rare combination. A part of Mildmay's not sure how to feel about this, but he could get used to not having to worry if half the bar is going to jump him as soon as he walks in the door.

He's got a drink and a deck of cards he picked up Kethe knows how many towns ago - they're okay on money right now, so maybe he can just fucking relax for once.

Of course, if the people at the table in the back escalate their argument into an actual fight, that could get dicey.]
grim_poet: (Default)
[personal profile] grim_poet
[there's a very tall, bespectacled man folded up at a table in the corner of the cafe you find yourself in. he looks like a stiff breeze would probably send him flying off into the sunset, and he's staring off into the distance, intently, a stub of gnawed pencil hovering in one hand over a battered notebook.

after a moment, he turns his head sharply and looks directly at you, as though he's been talking to you for hours, and you already know each other. you totally don't.]


Is 'aubergine' too elite an adjective, do you think? Normally I trust my own judgement, but I'm really not sure.

((A/N: Simon here is a poet who tends to write about controversial things. If there are any issues that you would rather NOT come up in the conversation, please note them in your tag header. For the most part, I will keep the details of his writing generic so as not to trigger anyone. As in his canon, it's not the end product that matters so much as the reactions to it and the things that inspire.))