ic; 18th « Thread Started on May 22, 2009, 4:48pm »
Please understand that this roleplay is rated PG-13+. You can expect violent situations, language and mild sexual actions to occur. Any R-rated situations (i.e. sex scenes, extremely gory descriptions, etc) are to be taken to PM or the hidden, R-rated board (for which, a staffer will need to provide you with the link and password). If you are sensitive to any of this material, please be careful when reading and/or participating in this roleplay.
ooc; Hello, everyone. This will be the official thread for the "18th" roleplay (formerly know as "The Pink Fedora"). The roleplay takes place in America during the 1920s, more specifically, 1924 Long Island, New York. A fantasy aspect is thrown in as well -- allowing for not-so-human characters to join in on the fun. Most of you are already informed on the basic plot, so my explaining would be redundant.
For anyone looking to join this roleplay -- just let me know and I'll fill you in. I ask that there be no "jump ins".
Re: ic; 18th « Reply #1 on May 22, 2009, 10:57pm »
ic; “Get back here soon, kid,” Vaughn grunted morosely, in full knowledge that Fredrick would not return to their repair-needing home until well past three in the morning. His thick, dry lips coiled around the filter of his cigarette and took a deep, final drag of the miasma. Vaughn’s aged; yellow-toned eyes meandered to the far clock: its antique little fingers pointed at nine forty-seven. A cloud of smoke filtered through Vaughn’s half-smiling mouth as he crushed the cigarette into an overflowing ashtray. “Don’t get hurt or nothin’,” He continued to lecture – old eyes glinting in the light of a freshly lit match. Realizing his pack had been depleted; Vaughn snarled and smothered the flame. “And get me a pack while you’re out.”
Fredrick nodded briskly with a wily grin. “I’ll be back by midnight.” The boy was a magnificent liar. He dropped his hat upon his head and passed a playful wink to his uncle. “Don’t worry, Uncle Vaughn. I’ll be a’okay. And smokes – gotcha.” After a quick tightening of his magenta tie, Fredrick slipped out creaking doorway and into the Long Island, September night.
The weather seemed mercifully mild for that time of year: calm, salty breezes glided off the ocean front and rainclouds were off pouring onto some distant landscape. It was unusually dark; however, with the moon drenched in shadow and the distant New York City luminescence drowning out any starlight.
But that was three hours ago.
They had stripped him of everything – the liquor, his weapons, his clothes and worst of all – his precious fedora. It seemed; however, they didn’t have much a taste for the peacock feather nestled within the rim of the hat: the shimmering, green thing was left roughly three feet from his bleeding head.
The scent of dirt stung his nostrils and overwhelmed his tongue. Gravel lingered at the back of his throat, but choking was the least of Fredrick’s worries at the moment.
Poor old Uncle Vaughn wouldn’t be getting those cigarettes tonight.
With Fredrick’s body nude – every wound was harshly exposed to the September night: a gash in his abdomen, a bullet in his leg, bruises on his shoulders, possibly a broken arm…
To his left, a scenic road bent into oblivion. Even if a car had driven past, it was unlikely Fredrick would be spotted. His dying body was left to drain its blood into a shallow ditch. ‘Damn it…’ Fredrick thought as the wind whispered past and a branch tickled his stinging back. A fly had already located him like a keen vulture, and scampered about the bridge of his nose.
‘Death…’ Fredrick twitched a finger and weakly moved his hand just above the rim of the trench. ‘Death…’ Trembling fingers stroked the earth above him.
Joined: Jan 2009 Gender: Female Posts: 17 Karma: 0
Re: ic; 18th « Reply #2 on May 23, 2009, 2:51pm »
“Selma, your mother’s condition seems to be getting worse. Don’t you understand that?” the doctor said as he proceed out of the room where faint coughing could be heard. The man with his large black bag stared straight head at a young woman with caramel skin leaning against the wall to the right, which ended the long hallway. “Selma, did you hear me?” The woman continued to stare way from the doctor. “Yes, yes. I heard ya.” She sighed and closed her eyes. Sticking the cigarette that she almost crushed between her fingers back to her lips, she began down the rosy-red hallway hugging her gown around her tightly.
The doctor grunted with dissatisfaction, “Do you not care for you mothers well being anymore?” Selma stopped but didn’t look back at him. “Just leave…I’m not in the best of moods right now.” She almost sounded if she were snarling. The man came up behind her and placed a gentle hand upon her neck in a loving manner, “Techa…” he whispered. “Please don’t be this way.” He came closer but Selma turn right around and smacked him red. The doctor did not react just looked at her. “I told you we’re over. No more!”
She then continued again down the hallway but in a faster manner leaving the doctor standing there. Once she turned into the next hallway the sound of a door slam violently. Afterwards, the doctor took his leave.
“Who does he think he is…coming onto me like that. He has only one purpose in my life, my household; and that is to make sure my mother is well!” Trembling she through a slipper that she was wearing at her mirror. However no damage was done even if she wanted it to shattered. After exploding for a brief moment she stepped into her large closet and began stripping off her gown. When she stepped back out she was wearing her fine pinstriped suit and plain black fedora. A knock suddenly sounded.
“Ms. Selma,” croaked one of the maidservants.
“What is it, Helena?” Selma replied, fixing her tie in the mirror along with dabbing a bit of make-up on.
“The doctor left…He isn’t bothering you again is he?” she questioned.
Selma placed her hands down on her dresser for a moment to shake her head, “The finest doctor my ass.” She grumbled then turned to leave her room.
“I take it that that was a yes?”
“Whatever, tell mother I’m taking the white coupe. I’ll be out for a while.” She told the maid as she walked out of her room.
“Right away, Ms Selma.” She nodded.
~~
Bright streetlights danced across the window shield and across the slightly twisted face of Selma. She was thinking hard but at the same time keeping an eye on the road. Which place could she hit tonight? There were a few good places that were on her mind. After several more miles the streetlights faded away and Selma switched on the high beams. No other cars seemed to be coming from the other way so she thought it would be necessary, especially at this time of night.
Out of nowhere, a strange feeling surged through her body yelling at her to stop the car she first ignored it and continued down the road but it persisted. Suddenly she slammed the brakes and the back red lights flickered on. “Where the hell is that pack?” Taking her hands off the steering wheel she rummaged through the glove department finding only two in a pack and a box full on matches. As if she were in a hurry, she took on and lit it. She waved the match about to put it out then tossed it. A puff of smoke escaped her lips, filling up the roof of the coupe.
Looking about she was beginning to wonder why did she stop anyway. Throwing the switch in to park she decided to finish off her cigarette outside of the car.
Something had caught Selma’s attention, seemingly distant movement was what she heard. An animal, she though but something was telling her it wasn’t an animal. Looking over to the ditch her eyes, what she believed, was playing tricks on her. There was a dark figure in the ditch but because it was so dark she could not make it out. Throwing what was left of her cigarette onto the road and stomping it out she walked over to the edge of the ditch and glared down into it. At first she squinted her eyes but they quickly grew wide once she knew what it was – a man!
Hurrying down to mans side, Selma placed to fingers onto his neck and found a faint pulse. Examining his body briefly she could tell he had ran into some trouble and wasn’t surprised at all. Carefully and gently she moved the man where she was able to see his face. Certainly wasn’t one she recognized but he was still alive and needed medical attention.
ooc; I was thinking, Robby, that in his moment of distress, Fredrick could bite Techa and make her a werewolf? I dunno – but I think it could be a good way to solidify a bond between the characters.
Anyway – I trust that Kita will be getting involved soon. I want to make sure Cecillia has a good opening to get involved in the story. Hopefully, her profile will be in the archives soon so we can figure something out.
ic; Fredrick gargled clotting blood in an attempt to moan as the noise of tires crunching gravel sounded nearby. ‘The chariot of death,’ he pondered grimly, staring into the red-blue light which filtered past his half-swollen eyelids. ‘The grim reaper has come to take me to hell,’ the thought forced Fredrick to snort in laughter – partially coagulated blood oozing from his nostrils.
But the fingers that graced his neck were not boney and cold as expected – but lively and warm. The fly which had been patiently awaiting Fredrick’s death seemed sorely disappointed. Techa’s movement had shooed it away, forcing it to find another homely corpse or piece of excrement for its babies. Fredrick experienced a similar fright; jolting at the sudden warmth. An animalistic rumble dribbled past Fredrick’s lips – a warning growl. As those hands turned his head, his jowls snapped and clamped around the tender flesh of her hand. Surprisingly, fangs caught her palm rather than flat, harmless human canines. Comforted, Fredrick released and dropped his head.
“Ugh…” As his eyelids peeled away, the face of a woman stared back at him, vaguely embossed in the fierce high beams of her distant vehicle. An eerie, toothy grin spread across Fredrick’s already butchered lips (teeth and gums were pre-exposed by a scarred, vertical slice through the right side of his mouth). More blood sputtered up from his innards as he studied her face. “Death is prettier than I expected.”
While he spoke, Fredrick’s face wrinkled in pain: fangs clenched, sealing a lungfelt scream. “N-n-no,” Fredrick’s voice trembled with agony. “No doct-ct-ors. No doctors.” He warned sternly, gripping her shoulder to heave up his wounded body. Kneeling in the September wind, Fredrick placed a hand over his groin (somehow ignoring the dirt-clogged gashes on his chest). “Ss-sorry miss. I-I uh…” (Had his skin been a paler tone, Fredrick’s flushed cheeks would have been noticeable).
Joined: Jan 2009 Gender: Female Posts: 17 Karma: 0
Re: ic; 18th « Reply #4 on May 23, 2009, 9:11pm »
A gasp escaped Selma’s mouth then a yelp of slight pain as the man unexpectedly bit her hand, “What the hell!” Was her reaction. She pulled back her hand and clenched it but thought better of it. She was not angry at him for she new she had startled the battered man. Then he had opened his eyes and she leaned forward a bit to listen to the words he was speaking. “Honey, I am not Death.” She couldn’t help but to grin at that.
As he placed his hand on her shoulder she try not to be forced down as he did so. To her surprise the man was completely nude, which she had not notice before. This of course flushed her cheeks just slightly, and any woman would have done the same. “..I’m more concerned on those wounds you have there. And I’m not goin to have and of that- you sir need a doctor. I’m sorry but that’s final.” As she spoke she took off her jacket and draped in on his shoulders. “Come along now, my coupe is over here on the road.”
As she place her arm around his upper back to help him to his feet she asked him, “So, what did you do to get yourself in such mess, hm?”
Fredrick winced with a surge of pain that burned along his ribcage – something was broken. His lungs summoned up a clot up blood, which plopped onto the ground in a soggy splatter. Fredrick limped around it tenderly, still careful to keep a hand guarding his groin. “That’s why I don’t want any doctors,” He snarled lowly, stumbling toward the white Coupe a few meters away. “Just take me to my Uncle’s place,” He directed with a hideous half-smile. “He knows a guy that can fix me up and keep a secret.”
Glinting in the high beams, Fredrick’s eyes examined the wound on Techa’s hand. “Sorry about that miss,” A degree of sincerity echoed in the quiet of his voice. “Listen, you better get that cleaned out fast. Wounds like that uh…” Fredrick paused for a suspicious few seconds in fear that some of his own blood might be mingling with hers. “It could get infected somethin’ nasty.” His hatless head bobbed in agreement with himself. What a magnificent liar. “You’re the one that needs the doctor, hon.”
Silence ensued and choked Fredrick. A bite? What the hell was wrong with him? Uncle Vaughn would kill him thrice: once for his tardiness, once for being so battered and once for biting this girl. And the speakeasy which was expecting their goods tonight? Undoubtedly, he was fired. Clearing phlegm and blood from his throat, Fredrick regained his wily expression. . “The place is a little ol’ run down house maybe about five miles from here. My Uncle will ring up the horse doctor. Don’t worry ‘bout a thing. This ain’t the first time…” Silence overcame him once again, yet that startling smile did not recede.
Joined: Jan 2009 Gender: Female Posts: 17 Karma: 0
Re: ic; 18th « Reply #6 on May 24, 2009, 12:39pm »
“If you insist,” Selma grumbled at the mans thick headedness as they made their way slowly over to the passengers side of her coupe. Keep a secret? That certainly sparked her interest though she wouldn’t bother about it now. Her main concern was to get this man some help. She rounded the front of the coupe and came up to the passenger door and opened it setting the man down onto the seat, “Alright then, I’ll take you there.”
As he mentioned the bite she looked at her hand, blood slightly oozing from it, “Let’s you fixed up first.” She retorted. “You’re the one that’s in the worse condition.” Making sure he was in all the way she shut the door and rounded back the front in and opened the driver side. As she got in she switched it into drive. The coupe jumped slightly but then started to roll a lot smoother as she started down the road. This ain’t the first time, she heard him say and she began to think on that for a second.
Shortly after five miles or so, the white coupe began to slow down a bit as it came up to a place that Fredrick had described, “Would this be the place?” she asked as she turn to him.
Sulking on the foot of a low hill was a small house, backlighted by the glow of the city. “That’s the place,” Fredrick nodded toward it and scoffed. The place was somewhat embarrassing to introduce to a woman; for its peeling paint of a now indistinguishable color, the drooping fence that had once guarded a generous perimeter and leaky roof (Uncle Vaughn had often barked that Fredrick should get up there and re-shingle the damn thing, but of course, he never did). “You can uh…come on in if you want.”
Fredrick stumbled out the passenger’s door. His shoeless feet struck the rocky and somewhat sandy earth with a familiar sound. A dog bayed in the distance – probably a stray, Fredrick assumed. Gripping the gun-shot wound in his leg, Fredrick stumbled forward.
Vaughn had been crouched in the windowsill, peering out into the pavementless driveway. Without cigarettes, stress and rage had knotted in Vaughn’s stomach. ‘Damn kid…’ Vaughn’s face wrinkled into a fearsome scowl as he watched Fredrick limp toward the front door. With a sigh, Vaughn scratched his thick, black muttonchops and licked his pointed teeth. Standing, he opened the door for his soon-to-be-chastised nephew.
“I guess I better call the horse doctor, huh? Appropriate too – yer about as smart as a horse!” Vaughn barked from inside the house. Without waiting for a response, he disappeared into the kitchen to ring up the poor veterinarian.
Fredrick propped himself in the doorway before proceeding into the main room of the house. It was simple and small – furnished with an old sofa and shelf, which hosted a radio and a dying house plant. Fredrick fell face first into the sofa with relief – Techa’s jacket still draped over his shoulders. “You can come in.” He invited – his voice swelling with relief.
“Get off the damn couch!” Vaughn snarled from the kitchen, the telephone nestled between his ear and shoulder. “You’ll got blood all over it!”
Joined: Jan 2009 Gender: Female Posts: 17 Karma: 0
Re: ic; 18th « Reply #9 on May 30, 2009, 9:17pm »
This place wasn't much compared to her small mansion but she wasn’t here to judge. Selma stopped the coup and as soon as she did Fredrick had got out and with out any help. Concerned, she turned and pulled the keys from the ignition stuffing them into her pocket, “You don’t need any help in?” she said getting out of the coupe although the question was a bit late. Shutting her door, she had followed, leaving the bloody upholstery unnoticed for the moment.
The man still had her jacket probably covered in blood by now so she might as well have to dispose of the fine thing. Oh well. She stopped at the doorway hesitant about entering the household but when he invited she proceeded. The inside wasn’t much to look at either. Nevertheless, she wasn’t here to judge. Horse doctor? She over heard. Nah, he must of meant house doctor. Stopped and stood in the main room looking over at Fredrick. He was worse then she thought.
When Vaughn had barked at Fredrick being on the couch Selma almost jumped out of her shoes. “Friend of yours?” she asked, curious. After asking that she had felt her hand tingle as if it was going numb. “…Uhm,” she started to hold her hand with her other. “This doesn’t feel right. Well, I’ve never been bit before so I am not sure at all how it’s suppose to feel..heh.”
Re: ic; 18th « Reply #10 on May 30, 2009, 9:51pm »
The receiver clunked less than melodically as Vaughn hung up the phone. “Mister Bryson ain’t gonna be too happy,” he chimed snidely as he slipped his heavy-set 54-year-old body into the living room. A dark-lidded stare fell onto Techa, but the anger soon focused upon Fredrick like two precise laser-beams. “I told you to get the hell off the couch!” Vaughn’s enormous, wrinkled hand swatted Fredrick from the couch with a clatter. “Goddamn it!” He hollered, spotting smears of blood in the cushions.
“Sorry miss,” Vaughn apologized – his old face splitting into a grin (a grin that did not include all of his teeth…). “My nephew here uh…he’s kinda slow.” His socked foot spitefully belted Fredrick in the ribs.
“—Hey!” Fredrick yelped, clutching his side. “I think something’s broken in there…!”
Gray hair drooped over the creased, greasy forehead of the man lurking in the open doorway. “You rang?” He groaned plaintively, moving into the room like a broken ghost. “I swear to god, you have to stop calling me at these hours.” His pale fingers rubbed the bridge of his nose. Bryson sighed, looking over Fredrick with an unsympathetic stare. With a chuckle, he knelt down by the boy and began to sloppily mend flesh with a sewing needle. “Quite a nasty walloping you got, eh? I’d swear, if I didn’t know better, I’d say this boy wasn’t human…”
Vaughn turned his attention toward the young woman and sneered. “Sorry if he caused you any trouble, miss,” The wound on her hand caught his attention. Suddenly, his expression shrunk. “Where’d you get that bite from?”
Joined: Jan 2009 Gender: Female Posts: 17 Karma: 0
Re: ic; 18th « Reply #11 on Jun 25, 2009, 2:01pm »
ooc; [Sorry about not repling right away, Crow. D: I was kind of cought up in a busy spell for a short while with little computer time but now I'm back. :3 I had a longer reply then this but I had lost it, so I had to re-type another. I couldn't remember exactly everything but atleast have something to reply with now. And again, I'm really sorry for the sudden delay.]
Selma continued to stand there and watched as the uncle got on to his nephew for not listening him in the first place about resting his battered body on the couch. She shook her head just a little as she brought a finger to side her face to pull back some of her hair behind her ear, “It’s quite all right, sir.” When she spoke to him she had not made complete eye contact with him.
Once again she clutched her hand; the numbing feeling wasn’t going a way. This was certainly concerning her very much. Maybe their house doctor could have a look at it while she was here? She would rather prefer that then having to ring up him .
When Vaughn spoke to her again she looked away from the doctor and Fredrick. The man had apologized once more for the trouble she went through with his nephew, “No, not at all. I’m just glad that he’ll be all right. I wouldn’t call it luck though…I just happened to be there at the right time, I suppose.” She shrugged the conversation between the doctor and Fredrick going unheard. Then he suddenly had asked about the bite, his expression visibly changing which cause the woman to be even more concerned then she already was.
“Oh, the bite. No big deal really, it was an accident. Honest,” once she told him, she didn’t want for him to be outraged about it and take it out on the poor hurt man. “I just startled him, that’s all.” She tried her best to convince him the best she could although at the moment it went unknown to her that this bite was something extremely serious. It was something that will make her regret ever saving his ass
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