[center][color=thistle][h3]Mariska Costas[/h3][/color]
[i][u]Location[/u]:[/i] Faraday Heights; 28A
[i][u]Interacting With[/u]:  John Taylor ([@Ghost Queen])[/i]

[hr][img]http://i.imgur.com/h8HD4dh.gif[/img][hr]



Their tastes in cuisine was wildly different, but Mariska had to give kudos where it was due. She would never have the gall to roll up a sausage in a pancake - she cringed even at the more widly accepted supposed snack of 'pigs in a blanket' - but bless John for knowing what he liked and how he liked it. There were certain things that didn't work with food: anything served on a stick, meat that loses its pink, or anything slathered in ketchup or other condiments. But, Mariska still wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth, or the stomach as the case may be, nor would she do anything other than let her thoughts on John's eating habits remain just that. Thoughts. 

[color=thistle]"Sure I got paid, but it's not really about the money, John. A little recognition every now and then would be nice, you know? At least down at a lounge I get applause. At that place...I was upstaged by...Countdown."[/color] It was nice to be able to gripe every so often but she didn't want to come off as whiny or anything of the sort. She knew quite well that if it was fame she was after, she had had those opportunities long ago. They said it never knocked twice, but they don't account for people who live longer than average lifespans. 

Mariska understood that her griping would go one way; it was still nice to let them hit air. John was a busy sort, he had a much more stable sort of career (and a far better work ethic, clearly), so as he took his pancakerito and headed for the door, Mariska saw him off with a wave and a declaration of well wishing. And then there was one. 

Mariska had no immediate plans for the morning, she had half expected to still be dead asleep at this hour, and would have to find ways to entertain herself. And that was a task that could very well take hours. With a shrug, Mariska stood from the kitchen table and sauntered her way towards the bathroom. The warmth of a shower would help her think, and it would help wake her up, and it would above all just feel goddamned wonderful. 

And if she just so happened to feel a song come to mind...then that was just another benefit of the greatest invention man ever made.[/center]

[hr]

[center][color=goldenrod][h3]Emerson Maddox[/h3][/color]
[i][u]Location[/u]:[/i] The Streets of Edgetoun
[i][u]Interacting With[/u]: Himself[/i]

[img]http://i.imgur.com/fzLL3Nt.gif[/img][hr]

Why the hell didn't he bring the car? Emerson Maddox was [i]somebody[/i] now. His name was on a goddamn [i]building[/i]...or it would be once the new sign and display came in; his name was on a goddamn [i]door[/i] and sometimes on the telly. It hadn't been the easiest road, but nothing worth striving towards ever came easily and the road to having his name on billboards, buildings, and the lips of the common rubes needing counsel was paved with the bodies of the ones he stabbed in the back to get there. And yet as Emerson trudged through the snow on the sidewalk, designer black coat doing little to shield him from the cold (but doing LOADS to make him feel more succesful), the only thought he had was why he thought it best to leave his car back at the house. 

Of course the answer was simple and one he spoke aloud to himself. [color=goldenrod]"Fucking fairies."[/color] The morning news came with a warning of a snow storm later in the afternoon and Emerson doubted that it was just some empty threat. There would be little sense in trying to drive his car through a blizzard; it was not a car meant for such harsh conditions. His was a car that worked as a conversation piece and a status symbol. Who didn't feel a little bit envious of someone whose car cost more than what the common idiot made in half a year? Emerson thought of it as a congratulatory gift, and his parents had as well - seeing as how they foot half the bill. 

So instead Emerson would be miserable on his way to the office...on the way to [i]his[/i] office; He had a secretary now and everything, assuming of course secretaries just came with the promotion anyway. [color=goldenrod]"Should've just gotten the bloody car."[/color] Emerson's feet were getting wet, his fault for not wearing the proper sort of boots, and it was only going to get worse before it got better. 

Yet Emerson saw the positive in his present situation. This weather was prime for causing accidents, lazy sorts and shit drivers losing their grip and hitting some family of four - maybe down to three after the fact - meant a potentially lucrative source of clients. The grieving family or banged up driver were ripe for the manipulation. People looked down at the supposed 'ambulance chasers' of the world, but Emerson had a strange knack for finding the positive in the tragic. 

Considering the rather passive aggressive slant the Unseelie Fae were taking with their threat of a snowstorm...Emerson was hoping for someone to get into trouble because of it. He was already seeing the headlines. 'LAWYER TAKES FAE TO COURT' or something with a bit more cleverness to it. His name was on the wall now. But there was always room to grow, and being the first lawyer in his firm to prosecute an Other would be huge. 

And that was worth suffering through the snow. He had already endured far worse in his young life. What was one more thing?

[color=goldenrod]"Do I have time for a coffee?"[/color] Emerson checked his watch as he trudged along. Even if not for coffee, he would have to find some place to take a quick break soon anyway; his cheeks were getting red and that was doing him no favors at all. [color=goldenrod]"Better not. The coffee in this town is straight rubbish anyway."[/color] 

He'd warm himself elsewhere. He had all the time in the world.[/center]

[hr]

[center][color=lightgreen][img]http://txt-dynamic.static.1001fonts.net/txt/dHRmLjE0Mi41M2RmNmUuUzJWcElBLCwuMAA,/melanie.girly.png[/img][/color]
[i][u]Location[/u]:[/i] Edgetoun Memorial Hospital, Pediatrics Ward
[i][u]Interacting With[/u]: Nurses and Children. Children and Nurses. Nildren and Curses.[/i]

[img]http://i.imgur.com/8SGz0hL.gif[/img][hr]

The nurses knew immediately that she didn't belong. For one thing she wasn't an adolescent. None of the young patients were related to her in any way. And, and this one was rather petty, she looked like she had just wandered in off the street. There was a strange woman skipping along the pediatrics ward of Edgetoun Memorial Hospital and the nurses on shift were still deciding on just how to handle this very strange situation. And yes, the woman was actually [i]skipping[/i] as if the hospital were some sort of playground. 

Kei had a spring in her step and the season was still the blistering winter; but why should a little bit of snow dampen one's spirits? She knew from the moment she entered the hospital that people were staring at her, and she honestly couldn't blame them. It's hard not to stare at someone who was wearing a neon pink shirt and a pair of equally loud yellow pants; even if the clothing burned the eyes...that wasn't something that was easily ignored. It wasn't just Kei's choice of attire that drew the odd looks, but also the fact that she was carrying a handful of balloons, each bearing a different message. There was one that congratulating a marriage, three birthday ones, a graduation or two, an exclamation of having a child...but not a single one that bore the phrase 'get well soon'. 

The balloon carrying woman entered an elevator and smiled at the people getting on with her. Some took that time to duck out, claiming that they'd take the next one, and still Kei smiled and waved at them as the doors closed. 

When she arrived at the children's ward, Kei didn't bother checking it with any of the nurses, instead choosing a room at random and handing a balloon to the child inside. To a little boy that was going under the knife Kei gave a birthday balloon marketed for girls. To a girl that had been in a traffic accident, Kei gave a marriage balloon. She spoke no words to them or to the parents that were in some of the rooms. She merely entered, tied the balloon to the bedrail (or handed it to the children when she could), smiled, waved, and went on to the next room. 

When all of her balloons were gone, Kei took to skipping along the ward while the nurses looked on in confusion. What confused them wasn't that Kei was skipping, but rather the pressing question as to why she had gone out of her way to give balloons to strangers. What confused even further were the nurses who recognized Kei. [color=beige]"She gave flowers to some cancer patients about a week ago,"[/color] one nurse said as if it was something completely ordinary, [color=beige]"A week before that? Cookies for the nursing staff down in intensive care."[/color]

The nurses knew that she didn't belong. 

But they were content to let Kei skip right along. 

She even made a few of them smile right along with her.[/center]

[hr]

[center][color=bisque][h3]Naomi Ishiguro[/h3][/color]
[i][u]Location[/u]:[/i] Churchill Gardens, 4A
[i][u]Interacting With[/u]: Online Creeps and Her Children[/i]

[img]http://i.imgur.com/CC9S4ba.gif[/img]
[hr]

As with every day the first thing Naomi Ishiguro did was check her inbox on one of the various dating services she was subscribed to. It was rare that she found anyone worth pursuing, but she wasn't looking for dates, but rather the worst sorts of scum. If there was a better place to see the negative aspects of humanity (of which there were several) she had to look no further than the pathetic sorts who were so inept with their romantic life that they resorted to the most impersonal method this side of mail order brides. Naomi didn't even have to work all that hard. A decently risque photo, a mentioning of her...'exotic' background, and she didn't even have to fill in a profile before being hit with all manner of messages. 

Like flies to honey.

Or to a web.

[color=bisque]"Good morning, loves,"[/color] Naomi spoke in her sensual husk as she sat down at one of the few pieces of furniture in her flat, [color=bisque]"Shall we find our next meal?"[/color] 

Naomi glanced around at her 'loves' who were, at present, climbing on the walls and the ceiling or in their webs, enjoying their breakfast flies. Naomi lost count of how many spiders were under her roof, only that there were enough to consider them family. Her flat was rather bare, with no furniture other than a desk, laptop, a chair, a phone, a radio, a rather old television, and a couple of floor lamps. There were no beds. No couches. There was a refrigerator off in some lonely corner. But such amenities were wasted on Naomi. What use did she have for a bed?

But the spiders? There were more spiders on the walls than there were material objects. And they were constantly crawling about. 


The low light of the laptop lit up as Naomi moved her deft little fingers along the trackpad. QuikDate was today's lucky winner as she typed in her credentials. Her inbox had lit up, a healthy dose of fresh messages written by fresher meat. 

[quote]'I love Asian women, wanna grab a coffee?'[/quote] [color=bisque]"Too plain."[/color] A quickly deleted message.

[quote]'Your hot, I'm hot, lets stop pretending'[/quote] [color=bisque]"Someone thinks highly of themselves. All bone, no meat. There's confidence and then there's...this."[/color]

[quote]'Hot pic. Here's mine'[/quote] 

Naomi sighed in anger before clicking off the website entirely. Perhaps the online method was losing its efficiency...or Naomi was losing her edge. Why was she being so selective now? There was a time when all three of those insipid message writers. would have been tangled up in her web, their bones lining the ground beneath the flooring. But now? She was hesitating. 

Because now she could be discovered. 

The worst thing that ever happened was the revelation that Others existed. Now Naomi couldn't simply indulge in her twisted, murderous desires; now there was the very real possibility that people start connecting dots. People go missing all the time, but now Others would make for the perfect scapegoat. Naomi was no innocent. There was centuries of blood on her legs. With news of some human organization and their prejudices...Naomi wondered if they would come to collect.

And the thought made an unsettling smile creep its way across her lips. 

This was sure to be...interesting.[/center]