Hawlin

Die Alone, or Listen to the Tale from the Watering Hole (An Anthropomorphic Dystopic, noir RP. High Casual, Furries)

<Snipped quote by Hawlin>

I dunno, but after a movie me and Zverda watched, we decided that Luciel must be made into a Aeron-Twombly sandwich.

John will be a safe-ish distance away.

@Foster

What movie would that be?
;>_>

Die Alone, or Listen to the Tale from the Watering Hole (An Anthropomorphic Dystopic, noir RP. High Casual, Furries)

So...ehrm, who are we waiting on?

Die Alone, or Listen to the Tale from the Watering Hole (An Anthropomorphic Dystopic, noir RP. High Casual, Furries)

I figured I may as well help with NPCs.

@Foster
'Kaite' -- Its like 'Kate' but with a slight inflection that almost makes it sound like 'Kite' with the implied accent. Sorry for the weird names.

Die Alone, or Listen to the Tale from the Watering Hole (An Anthropomorphic Dystopic, noir RP. High Casual, Furries)

Johnny was already nervous. Meeting in such a public place, regardless of the company that such 'public' kept, had him on edge in spite of how casual the environment viewed his type. Nobody would notice such a meeting as the thumping music and others having their own loud conversations about rules regarding a game of pool. Still, for a tweaker, all eyes were on him.
The guttural snarl caused the salamander to almost jump out of his skin, in the process of prematurely shedding due to how he scratched himself on a rolled up sleeve didn't help as his eyes panned across the venue.

"Hey! H-hey, yeah...how ya doin Freddy?" They started, chuckling with a bit of familiarity before quickly clearing his throat and launching into the next bit with little time to form a response. "Yeah! No...yeah, not much. Been sitting here for a while and- a while! Where- no, yeah, nevermind, sorry" He corrected himself, doing his best to focus on the lion whose presence comforted him only enough to bring himself to take a quick deep breath. "People chasing angels, that wreck on third? Heh, nawh...yeah, traffic is hell, ya see?" they tried to joke before awkwardly flourishing a series of mint greens and ambers across their skin before settling on their typical dull maroon. "S-so...Its kinda chaos here. It's been pretty understaffed, but otherwise it's same old same-old, ya know?" Johnny chirped, knocking his knuckles on the table for dramatic effect before taking a sip of his drink to steady himself. After a collected breath and another sip he looked back up at Fredrick. "The managers are twins or something. Must be some kind of family matter, since neither of them showed up, today. Not even a call, ah? The service here is shit. Not even a pretzel basket or anything, heh" the salamander chuckled, ear frills perking for a moment at the sound of the group at the pool table breaking.

"S-s-some associates of mine got...heh, axed politely to fuck off from that car wreck. Some rabbit or something. Those types for ya?" The salamander shakily joked, not so much nervously but mostly studdering as they reached up their sleeve to politely continue to scratch without subjecting Fredrick to their state.
On the force, the two may have worked together for a few weeks after Johnny was reassigned to the lion after his senior partner was gunned down during a simple small-time drug bust that turned out to be more than either of them thought.
Johnny was never the same and after being protected by Fredrick during their slip into their descent, the salamander resigned. The guilt and stress got the better of him.

Die Alone, or Listen to the Tale from the Watering Hole (An Anthropomorphic Dystopic, noir RP. High Casual, Furries)

@Ezekial Wolffe
I may have a few ideas of how to use him for the sake of cameos and tying plots together.
And it's not a problem, sorry about...well, you know.
Thanks for letting us know, it's understandable how life happens.

Die Alone, or Listen to the Tale from the Watering Hole (An Anthropomorphic Dystopic, noir RP. High Casual, Furries)

Luciel jumped at the knock at the glass, freezing when the gray wolf made herself apparent. The jackalope offered a small wave to the individual, doing his best to keep movement to a minimum though his brows contorted strangely as he was called out as Ansel. It was made quickly apparent that this wasn't his only issue.
Discrediting his self-made illusion of himself being some kind of creature somewhere around thirty-ish years old that pretty much ran the bar, being called out left him feeling naked. "Y-yeh...Oi practically run th'bar, ya c'd say" He tired to playfully chirp with a small awkward laugh, relieved as they left.

The tiniest detail...

Holding a phone to my head, I playfully crook an eyebrow. "Ah? And vaht vould zeh-

Big bad wolf...

'Another run-in with John'

Luciel froze and shivered, their eyes finding the distant silhouette of a black wolf on the hill. Never in his life had he felt so out of place as he had in that moment, reclining his seat all the way back with gentle ease as not to make too quick of motions. Though he made the motion soft and swift as not to draw Aeron's attention, throwing in a small groan to detail the will to get comfortable after everything, his eyes mostly locked with Twombly's, silent and tellingly.
It was only after Aeron and Ylva left that Luciel breathed again, dexterously reaching to the edge of the seat on the other side of Twombly and dragging himself into the back seat with a soft and pained groan. Hooking his boot around the handle on the side of the seat, he gently replaced its position as he worked himself into the space between the back and front seat.

Twombly watched his patient recline, trying their best to get comfortable as everyone decided to leave them alone... only for the jackalope to startle him with a series of suddenly coordinated movements, all geared towards slipping behind the front seats and making it look as though he was never there. Still surprised, he could tell something had him spooked.

"Wh...what is he doing?" Luciel hissed as if fearing someone other than Twombly would hear him in the enclosed vehicle. The way the jackalope curled up, grunting as they pulled themselves into a kneeling position to barely watch over the dash of the SUV with one eye spelled an unnatural paranoia.

Twombly instinctively bent down, as though the jackalope had some sort of sixth-sense to a sniper. He could clearly hear his question, and managed to gather that John and Luciel probably had something that could violently flare-up if he was seen.

"We're at a cemetary." He began, "He's here to pay a visit to his family. Ylva is on a date, so that explains why she's here. As for Aeron..." Twombly stopped his explanation as he looked up, and saw Luciel's antlers tremoring. Calmly, he reached up and took a hold of one of those wonderful handlebars, and gently pulled his head towards him. "Keep your head down."

He then poked his head up, trying to see what they were doing at this very instant. "Aeron is arranging a wreath, John is on his knees; Ylva is behind him, rubbing his back and saying something." He quietly observed.

Biting his lip, Luciel folded his ears back to be less noticeable as he knelt, though watching John added an extra furrow to his brow. Sympathetic notions and a pensive will to support John further cemented Luciel's resolution to remain where he was. No good could possibly come from asserting himself on the scene.
The gruff wolf-lady's arms around John stung like bees, but with it came a slight solace...
I mean...it wasn't like I actually had a chance with the 'Big Bad Wolf. In all actuality, it was better that he knew what he wanted and had someone who could...could actually be someone who could be there for them, consistently.
Whoever it was in that grave was so lucky, having such a caliber of man to care so much as to visit them. Along with Lady Aeron?

It was disgusting. I hated it.
I hated admitting it and it made my entire self lock up with the notion of insignificance. This was broken by-

-The hand on Luciel's antler was met with a small lash as he was broken out of his daydream, muscled out of view with a tiny and meek whimper of a growl as the jackalope choked down his composure. Quickly understanding Twombly's effort, he remained low with his eyes directed away, bucking to wrench their antler from the maned wolf's grip. His heart wasn't entirely in it and came up short of jerking a bit but melting into himself as the news of the situation helped enough to calm the jackalope down.
Wrapping arms around his knees as he sat, Luciel stared into the center-dash with a tilted head from Twombly's hand on the base of the antler he held. He offered a small 'hrmph...' with a light frown, shrinking back as far as he could manage behind the seat. It would be unfortunate if anyone opened the door.

Having finished giving a report on what was occuring at the top of the hill, he looked back towards Luciel and let go of the despondant-looking jackalope's antler. He watched him for a bit, before sighing and getting down onto the floor of the SUV, crouched opposite of him.

"You seem like you've got the wieght of the entire world on your shoulders." He enquired, tilting his head in an effort to catch the once-cheerful glint in the bartender's eyes. "You want to talk about it?"

"Its...not like that, I suppose" Luciel began as his frown softened to more of a regretful neutrality behind a wince of his lingering soreness. "I had never anticipated a possibility of things going the way they have" The explanation continued, though he looked up at Twombly with a mild skeptically raised eyebrow as if he wasn't sure if the man could understand his situation. "I wish I could be there for John instead of hiding back here, but he doesn't need that kind of trouble" Luciel sighed as he rubbed his temples and closed his eyes, "A young woman is already dead for knowing who I am. It...ugh..." before cutting off and shaking his head, dismissing the thought. "Well, nothing can change that, I guess" Luciel scowled, looking back down at the seat beside him in thought.

"Well I'm dating Aeron, and so I had to handle the heat that brings me, even a run in with John or the others from time to time..." He said, edging a bit closer before realizing who the jackalope was really pining for, "Wait, John? This is all about John?" Just then he heard the black wolf calling out for Luciel's alter-ego. He cringed, as the assassin sounded genuinely perturbed enough with the jack's stories to shoot first and ask questions later.

After cowering from the expected line of gunfire for some time, they could hear John's protests for Ylva to let go of a rather sensitive appendage grow fainter. Relaxing a bit, he faced the petrified person beside him, "Is it safe to assume this is going to sound too complicated for most people to understand the first five times you try telling it?" He asked.

Luciel would have given Twombly an answer, though the sound of an angry phone conversation from John drew his attention. Paranoia boiled to the surface, confirmed by the call for the jackalope's personas. In response, he curled up tighter in spite of how his wracked body ached and stung from the position he forced himself into, pressing his hands against his ears. Luciel was certain John was going to kill him, and his only hope was that he could get a shot at whoever told him before that point as he physically shook with fear and rage before a miracle happened.
The voice changed tone as John was apparently being dragged off. There was no way he would risk taking a peek, only hoping he was right in that assumption. After a minute after the voices faded, he heard Twombly's question. Luciel glared into nothingness, his mind racing, fueled with confusion and discontent, "It seems like the story is getting more complicated by the second..." he growled, wanting nothing more than to let out steam on his chair but figuring that probably wouldn't be an option. "Yeah! No, I am sure it would be very easy to explain everything, but it likely would not help in the slightest!" he barked, obviously frustrated on top of irritated from persistent injury.
Grabbing fistfuls of his own hair, he let out a long hiss, fighting back the urge to indulge in an inelegant screaming fit as he whispered things along the lines of, "I should have just let her die" and "Fucking thanks, John".

"Well, if you don't think it'll help..." Twombly finally said, as he solemly inched closer, and wrapped his immense arms around the comparatively tiny little Jackalope, embracing him in a hug, "Then maybe this will. There are people that care about you, and whatever is getting you all worked-up is getting us all worried about you, whoever you may be. If you ever do change your mind, me and Aeron are all all-ears... um..." Twombly then paused, noting that the turn-of-phrase could've been taken a bit more literal since... well.... ears... "we'll try to hear your side of the story first."

Luciel's ears perked up as Twombly approached him, letting out a small gasp and flinching away from the man's touch before realizing what he was doing. Reluctantly at first, the jackalope rested his hands between the two before shakily but gently laying a cheek against their chest with a sigh. The concept felt so foreign, having felt like forever since the last meaningful contact he'd had with another person. It wasn't much, but the idea of being accepted in his most simplest of forms while safe from retribution was...comforting.
"Th-Thank you, Twombly....Maybe sometime..." Luciel softly said, eyes drifting almost to close while his mind continued to race, planning out the next few hours and thankful Twombly would be coming with to help carry stuff.

I got what you want; hot guys and a plot! ♥

;>_>
*shamefully raises hand*

I would be interested...

EDIT: Yeh, there'd certainly be enough reasons to attempt to overthrow the main antagonist...and we are supposedly a bunch of handsome heroes (or villians. I can imagine the criteria for dimensional kidnapping is a bit lax, given the circumstance).

Die Alone, or Listen to the Tale from the Watering Hole (An Anthropomorphic Dystopic, noir RP. High Casual, Furries)

@Zverda
Maybe?
The small-time rivals are down 8 men in the course of about three hours.

Luci's tail has quite a bit to explain. (The guy following him, not his fluffy bunneh plume)

Die Alone, or Listen to the Tale from the Watering Hole (An Anthropomorphic Dystopic, noir RP. High Casual, Furries)

@Ezekial Wolffe
I left it cryptic, but I guess it's not super huge spoilers to explain.
The fox he rescued was part of a small-time family of 'businessmen' who saw her attempt to reach out to 'Angel' as their time to shine by taking her for ransome. Their plan doesn't go well as...well...

So the bodies of about 4 goons litter an alleyway behind a lovely sandwich shop and 'team two' end up capturing the prospecting lovebird and that guy who was just kinda being dragged along after the Fox's annoyed bodyguard made if clear that 'no, and go away' wasn't an option.
In the process of a messy interrogation on the girl that subsequently ended her life, Luciel's identity came out and he was on his way to being sold off to another crew for retribution for what happened to Derrick and others like him.

...but you know how that song and dance goes.

So, cuffed, Luci takes out the two in the back seat with a well-placed gore to the face and a throat kick to the other and kicking the driver and the last escort in the front in the back of the head, causing the car to fly out of control.
It rolls and Luci is thrown through a slightly open rear passenger window after the car rolls from going up a curb and a series of newspaper stands and mailboxes, causing a mess before crashing into a lamppost.

I didn't want to write out what was starting to begin to be an upwards of around 5 pages in word-doc with Luci having only gotten as far as making the fox and her bodyguard egg sandwiches in his horror-house apartment...and what would become awkward conversations about why he saved her from atop a tall building, Luci being adamant about his agoraphobia and refusing to go scavenging outside the dome. It ends with brunch at a soup-and-sandwich shop where they're jumped by rival goons.

It was boring, long and lonely since it was just me writing about Luci going on a 'date' and hating it.

So, instead we have a cryptic series of dream sequences ending with the post just getting to the goddamn point.

Die Alone, or Listen to the Tale from the Watering Hole (An Anthropomorphic Dystopic, noir RP. High Casual, Furries)

The night came and went like any other, Luciel getting a kick out of putting the fedora on one of the skulls and leaving it on the back shelf as a decoration. There were a few more in the box, though he wasn't completely certain what to do with them. In all likelihood, they'd just stay in the box and collect dust.
On the topic of things left untouched, he threw a napkin over the coffee pot in the break room to keep any prospecting bugs out, shuddering at the thought of having any of the muck.

His night was spend performing the usual rituals after arriving home. A few beetles he collected on his walk were tossed into his spider's terrarium. He never felt the need to name it, mostly to be cheekily reflective...and it wasn't like the thing could even understand the concept of a name.
From feeding the tarantula to picking out all of the piercings as well as washing off the spots that the makeup left, Luciel glared between the mirror at his table in the kitchen and counting the money from the day. It was easily enough for the next month or maybe two if he resisted the urge to go out shopping. However, he let it leave a bad taste in his mouth with the thought of what it took and what souls were sold at the meeting he attended in John's stead.

Right, the meeting!
With a groan, Luciel slumped forward on the table into the pile of notes. There was no way of even beginning to know what John would do if he found out it wasn't Kaite at the meeting. How would he even explain it?
"Oh, hey John...Huh? Oh, yeah, I was there...well, let me tell you about a story" the jackope mused into the silence of the room before sighing with a slight growl. "Heeey John, vould you like to hear about zeis-" he began again and abruptly cut out, throwing his arms across the table and casting everything to the floor.

Ears folding back, he stalked over to his chair and plopped down, staring at the wall of faded newspaper clippings.
Drawing an axe and driving the spiked pommel into the side of the mangled furniture.

"I'm not sorry, John..."

~~~

Dream Sequence: 'Whispers of Fish'

Zehr iz no reason to protect me. You are only lettink him know he is vinnink.
If...If I can protect anyone-
Look around you. Vee are all already doomed. You ver never able to protect me.
I can and I am!
He is usink you! How can you not see eit?
Because I can do vahtever I please!
Do not start vith zeht...and zeht collar says ohzervise.
Vaht? zehy say zeht mimicry iz a form ouf flattery~
...Try not to look so energetic. Zehy like zeht sort ouf thing.
Wait, did you hear something?
Zeht vould be zee bell.
Wh...what does that mean?
...Zeht zeh day iz beginnink.

~~~

"Nnuhn...n-not the bell..." Luciel groaned, stirring in his sleep before the next chime of his doorbell forced him to bolt awake in a cold sweat.

Before the stain of an existence that called itself a clock could speak, I conscribed to the notion of buying a new one as I put a round in it from Sandcastle which was kept under my pillow. Friend or no, being woken up had to be the worst part of existence...nightmares being the second and torture in a close third. Regardless, I was in the middle of throwing a pair of pants on over my tasteful black...undergarments...when the bell came again."Yeh! I heard you the first...time!" I barked in response, unsure how long my dreams had been manipulated by the contraption. Making a mental note to find a back-alley contractor to rewire my doorbell to instead call my phone on vibrate, or better yet, just pry it out of the wall, I approached the door. A shirt of anything else had factored into the mess since piercings were a bitch and a half to sleep in; moving around inside you, they were disgusting agony to live with as it was.

Through the peep-hole, I must have been making a mistake by seeing that fox from the other day waiting around with their schnauzer bodyguard. With a groan, I looked down at myself, no question in my mind that she had come to see 'the one, the only' which I ceremoniously mouthed while raising my arms to behold the visage to the rest of my audience. A second of that 'amber' deodorant stuff that doesn't smell like any kind of amber, I was certain, as well as a shirt and I was just about half way presentable.
Another ring of the doorbell after having told them that I hear was a bit rude for my taste, but I was not entirely one to judge.
I worked it out of my system by throwing a few punches on my way back to the door, taking a deep breath and opening the door.

~~~

Discoordinated Thoughts

Everything hurt. What happened? It was all a blur, a maelstrom of noise and dancing lights that felt like an eternity...and then it was over. My head swam with a dull ache from the chemicals that only made the soreness barely noticeable over the tingling numbness that otherwise pervaded my senses.
"Oi kid. Git up with ya bones, ah? Y'got a loin goin on, n' oi'm eh-close t'runnin twofers"
"Y...uhng...Y-"
"It's a glass wall, 'an no I don't owe you shit! Now git th'fok up...n'smoile"

...Just like how I don't owe my chair the dignity of not being sat on or a coffee-maker the privilege of remaining in one piece. I will use them as I see fit, because they are just things.
My things. They should feel grateful to even have a use.

A woman in a chair. What was her name? The waiter leans in to take her order, but she does not speak. No, she cannot speak. Tape over her mouth had made certain to snuff out the sounds she made as the waiter clipped her fingers off as if his barbarism towards a woman I did not know could force me to say anything by appealing to some strange empathy.
Service here is terrible...the breadsticks are undercooked and bland.

Luciel groaned as his eyes fluttered open, the ringing in his ears gradually subsiding as he came back to his senses only to find a rat standing over him. With the spiked back of an axe into their shoulder, they got the message and scampered off before being able to make off with the jackalope's gear. Other shadows in the alleyway helped the rat off as they clutched their fresh wound. "Take a pulse, will ya!?" Luciel barked after them before grunting and letting himself slide off of the abandoned street-trader stand and onto the curb.
On the other side of the street, the wreck of his overturned ride leaked coolant, gas and blood from the mangled bodies inside. All in all, not wearing his seatbelt had been the factor leading to his survival, though he felt like roadkill.

After taking a few moments to collect himself and check for broken bones, he reached up his shirt to draw his emergency flip phone and turn it on. A few bruised ribs, a likely dislocated shoulder being popped back into place and a sprained ankle spelled that he would live. Not with much, but it was something.
The device took a few minutes to boot up before he pressed 1 on speed-dial, having no other contacts. In this time, he leaned his head back against the stand and whispered something along the lines of "Gawd, what time is it, even?"

"Operator..." Luciel sighed after a long silence, lowering his eyes to the ground as the voice sounded annoyed if not upset. "Yes, I know. I just-" he began to continue before a loud pop came from the car which had sparked a flame. "...Yeah...I missed the bus, you might say. Bring a spatula, if you can" they tried to joke before giving a pained grunt and pulling himself to the side of the stand for partial cover while still getting a view down the nearby alleyway as he gave the voice his location.

"Huh? Oh, no...I don't think there'll be a second date"
"No, don't ask"
"It's not like that. There was just a...misunderstanding"
"Because why the hell would she know? Can you do your job?"
"Stop"
"Stop..."

"Shut up! I don't owe you anything! I told you, it's not like that! I didn't kill her!"

"Will you just send someone, for fuck sake!? I will drag myself over there just to carve the tongue from your skull!" Luciel barked before hanging up and having an inelegant screaming fit before deteriorating into pained grunts and furious growls as tears wet the fluff of his cheeks. Shadows of the rats loomed in the darkness of the alleyway, watching the one who had just lashed out against their comrade. In response, the jackalope narrowed his eyes and wiped a bit of blood from his nose as he drew Sandcastle and cocked it with his knee while clutching his ribs with a free arm. "How ya folks doin', today?" he chirped with an almost friendly and inviting tone in spite of how badly he wanted them to go away, "I wouldn't suppose any of you came here. They looked to each other and a faint whisper echoed from the gutter.
"I told you it was him" one of them hissed, giving a small shove as another in the back muttered, "I hear he murdered that Derrick guy."
Exchanging mutters in regards to what had been seen almost two days ago, the sound of the group fading off as they stepped back around the corner.

After a few minutes of watching the wreck roast, Luciel began to wondering what police were doing that was more important than a contained car fire. While he knew they probably had everything under the sun to occupy themselves with since the scum of the city never slept and weren't above robbing the recently dead. Thoughts growing dark, he almost jumped when his phone went off. He sighed after seeing the number of the return call as he thought he was done with the ram.

"Ah?...A woman? Couldn't you call Der- oh...right"
"So, what? I should just walk home?"
"Oh, don't judge me. They all deserved it!"

Luciel touched his face, realizing he was frowning at the phone after the voice made a comment about frowning ruining his qualities with wrinkles, making him bear his fangs at the thought of the asshole thinking they knew him...and being right. "Well, what did she say, exactly?" He asked with a groan.

"Sorry, I don't know any arrogant bitches. Are you sure you have my file?"
"Ha ha, hilarious. Well, unpin the notecard, take off your tacky shades and read me the number you called"

"...Shit..."