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Post by The David on Feb 5, 2009 3:27:16 GMT -8
((Please note, the following thread is about a ficticious "drug" that does not exist in the real world. Also, it's only considered a drug to vampires, and only because of its forbidden nature.))
The makeshift stand had been constructed by propping up a coffee table with books under each of the legs. Before anyone knew what was being done, The David had erected a table filled with various containers, all swimming with samples of the deepest crimson blood. Some were boiling softly away in bong-like apparatus, while others were displayed in crystal vials or sample syringes.
The signs were everywhere: “The Vampire's delight!” one said. “Portable necro at your fingertips!” said another. But the largest sign of all, hand-painted in what appeared to be congealed arterial blood, were the words:
“BLACK BLOOD FOR SALE! BEST RATES ON THE STREET!”
Like a grocer at the table of a fruit stand in a busy London marketplace, The David stood bawling advertisements in some unintelligible dialect, in a tone that could only be described as foghornesque, if there was such a word. His booming voice had a quality of pandiculation to it, as though he might be trying to yawn loud enough to crumble the entire structure of the cafe.
The overwhelming scent of the black blood (also advertised using it's street name, "tar") was sickening, and yet stupefying all at once, like the over-indulgence of alchaholic beverages or the wave of nausea that passes over a person when they’ve been awake for 100 hours straight.
The banner stretched across the legs of the propped-up table read: “Cafe Damari and Midnight’s Imports, allied for a limited time only to bring you the best illegal substances.”
(Post editted to comply with the terms of service)
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SinisterGrin:
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Post by SinisterGrin: on Feb 5, 2009 7:17:50 GMT -8
He'd been watching the masked man set up shop, mostly out of curiosity. But then He'd seen the signs spring up. Well. Interesting, that. Very interesting. Grin had never really trusted these street merchants, dealers, flea-marketers and black-marketers that just set up shop anywhere... there was always something wrong with the product--it gave out after the first few times of use or something along those lines ... but there was something there that caught His glittering eye. Something black. Something bloody. Black blood, eh? He had to admit that it was tempting, oh-so-tempting, to just walk up and point at the sign and tell the man, "I'd love some." Yes. So tempting.
And The Grinister wasn't one to deny temptation when it came knocking so merrily at His door, regardless of repercussions. Oh, no. He most definitely wasn't. Usually, if it looked appealing to Him, He dove in without thinking.
The smoking cylinder in His mouth was bitten down upon and He grated His teeth against it, causing it to roll back and forth in contemplation. Might as well, right?
With that, He trounced right up to the book-heightened coffee table and feigned disinterest in the wares. Nonchalantly, He let His eyes stop upon the sign that shouted, "BLACK BLOOD FOR SALE! BEST RATES ON THE STREET!" Smoothly, He placed His hands behind His back to hide the fact that fingers were now digging against palms as He stared at that sign. Billows of smoke clouded His face from view and obscured His vision. Nimble fingers reached up, wrapped about the cylinder poking out of His mouth, flicked the butt to ash it, and then replaced it as He continued to "think" about what was presented to Him.
Temptation kept rapping its knuckles against the hinged door of His mind (which had a hard time closing, to tell you the truth...in most cases it had to be slammed very matter-of-factly twice or even thrice, before it would finally click closed). A few more rapt raps of those knuckles, and the door squeaked open, one of Grin's eyeballs peered out of the small crack and focused on Temptation. 'Do come in!' Grin gleefully invited, and swung the wicket's smallest door open.
And there was Temptation passing over the door sill... and next the doorstop. And now standing right in front of Samwell P. Bloodworth, who extended His hand and offered it to Temptation a.k.a. Black Blood.
Grin looked up at The David, the corners of His mouth curling upward. A finger jabbed in the direction of the coagulated lettering. "I'd love some." He stated simply,the cigarette perpetually trapped betwixt His lips bobbed up and down as if it were nodding 'yes! yes!' as He spoke.
A sound interrupted the man's genuine focus on this new thing He'd found. This new, and exciting thing... It was the sound of a telephone ringing. His telephone ringing? The tell-tale vibrations in His pocket verified that it was, indeed, His telephone. A finger was held up in the direction of The David, and He turned His back to the make-shift stand, digging in a pocket to retrieve the hostile little device.
The red phone was flipped open and held against the side of His face. A voice on the other end seemed to be shouting something.
"BRWA BRWA BRWA BRWA BRWA!" said the telephone.
"I'm nowhere near Damari's coffee shop... Whatever do you mean?" He attempted to lie smoothly.
"BRWA!? BRWA BRWA BRWA BRWA BRWA BRWA!!!" the phone screamed back.
"Fine. I am near it. As a matter of fact, I'm inside of it."
"BRWA BRWA BRWA!?"
"Yes. I was looking at it. Just now, as a matter of fact." He didn't see any point in lying to her. She was worked up enough as it was, wasn't she? But at this point in time, He regretted ever buying the damned phone that kept her and Him in touch. He'd be on His merry way by now, and just a bit stronger than He was previously if some passer-by hadn't called Mav in concern. He felt like a damned teenager.
"--RWA BRWA BRWA BRWA BRWA, BRWAAA!" the shrill little voice cried,
Dishonorable?! Dishonorable His ass! But He wasn't going to argue with her. "BRWA BRWA BRWA BRWA BRWA," He took another puff from the cancer-stick and then removed it from His mouth, holding it in His left hand while He 'listened'. It was ashed. Another puff and He moved the hand to put the cigarette out on the table-top behind Him, body being leant against it as He took His call. Left arm was then tucked beneath His right elbow, and a highly-polished shoe was a tap-tap-tapping at the hard floor beneath it.
"Alright. Alright I get it, already!" He closed the phone mid-sentence and shoved it back into His pocket, eyebrows now furrowed heavily, anger apparent all over His face.
He was now presented with two choices-- He could A) walk away like a fully-grown man, or B) stomp off like a child who'd just had candy taken away from them. He chose "B)".
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Post by Do Not PM this Account. on Feb 5, 2009 9:01:12 GMT -8
(David, remember promotion of drug use breaks TOS. Come on, now. Same for you, Grins.)
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Post by Mr.`Vespertine on Feb 5, 2009 23:34:20 GMT -8
Vespertine steps into the crowded Cafe` announced by the jingle of a bell on the door. His dark-blue denim attire matched the night sky slightly, even though it was a simple outfit, it seemed to be fitting for the young age at which he appeared. Black sneakers squeaked against the hardwood floors of Cafe` Damari while Ves' light eyes study the quaint little espresso machine behind the counter.
Taking a seat on one of the random bar stools, the only thing spoken is a question, "How much Tar did you guys drop tonight?"
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Idony
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IGN: Idony | OOC: Cora
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Post by Idony on Feb 6, 2009 7:47:13 GMT -8
On hearing the question, Idony – who had been hiding in the hi-tech corner reading Bite – popped her head outside the wall dividing café from computers and was greeted with the sight of the familiar figure she had correctly associated the voice with. “Pardon?” she childishly inquired, herself unaware of the exact connotations of 'tar' put into use. The sight of The David faithfully selling black blood steered the words into meaning... “Oh. That.” grinned the youth. “You know they haven't lost their human inhibitions when they're too shy to admit they want it.” she called out, rather loudly especially towards the end, to make sure the whole café heard.
RBBite wasn't an idiotic newspaper. Alas, its readers were. For the most part... With a few careless maneuvers on the keys Idony exited the page and closed the computer, as far better entertainment had now arrived than the arguments and discussions that had purposelessly taken over the pages. If only they led up to somewhere... But they never did. Ygg and Syphs were the only ones throwing holywater, and even that seemed such a passionless job. Effective, but not entertaining to 3rd parties. How selfish its participants...
“Oi Grinsister!” she called out while making her way within the actual café, her arms shooting open at the question “Why so distant?” Straightening her white shirt and dusted jeans, Idony strolled to where Vespertine was seated, careless as to pinch the random customer and accidentally bumping into tables with full cups of coffee on them. “I'm feeling kind of mellow today.” she softly told Vesp before jumping on his lap. “Come on back!” called the girl again, giggling at the departing Sinister as she threw an arm over Vespertine's shoulder for balance, no regard as to any discomfort she may've caused him.
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Post by The David on Feb 6, 2009 8:45:37 GMT -8
The David made a noisy whipping sound as Grin walked away, accompanied by what could only be described as an air-lashing using an imaginary whip for emphasis.
He seemed, for a moment, unsatisfied with his air-whip. He peered at his hand as if it was somebody elses; somebody quite inferior. Shaking his head, he twisted about himself and pulled off his cloak (he didn’t usually wear cloaks, unless he was on official gang buisiness. They were far to cliche.)
With a flick of the wrist - his new makeshift whip now in-hand - he lashed the back of a random stranger's head with such force that the hapless individual’s face was pummelled against the computer screen, and they slumped backwards on their chair, dazed by the unprovoked attack.
Nodding, The David muttered, “Much better!”
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Boomerangele
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Post by Boomerangele on Feb 6, 2009 21:13:19 GMT -8
Boomer lurched into Damari’s Café, already stoned from the evening’s activities. (OOC: Drugs are bad.) She’d heard that drug were for sale at the café if you knew who to ask. (OOC: Drug sales are really bad.) As she swayed near the doorway, it didn’t take any asking to figure out where to go. (OOC: See? Drugs make you uncoordinated.) With her eyelids heavy and half-closed, she licked her cracked lips and rubbed the inside of her elbows where she’d last had her fix. (OOC: Shooting drugs will kill you.) She needed more, craved more, as only one who was coming down could understand. (OOC: Drugs are addictive.) Her hands moved from the inside of her elbows to her breasts and she rubbed them absentmindedly as she walked to the table. (OOC: Sex is bad, too.)
She looked at the grinning man sitting at the makeshift table, his bloody vials set out on display. (OOC: Remember, drugs sale are really bad.) He looked dead… no… he looked dead and buried, resurrected by only sheer will. (OOC: Look what drugs do to you, stay away.) Her eyes met his hollowed sockets and she stared into the abyss of his soul. (OOC: Emo zombies are probably bad, too. Please read the TOS.) Her thin white hands snaked out towards him, towards the precious vials, the cherished fluid of immortality, the black liquor of the vampires. (OOC: Is there anything in the TOS about bad writing? There should be.) Her words came tumbling out, punctuated by deep breaths, “¿Cuánto? ¿Cuánto por uno? ¿Y una docena? ¿Cuánto llenarme? Por favor, por favor, senor.” (OOC: No speaking other languages, either. Didn’t you read 3.A?) Boomer was so high she hadn’t even noticed she had lapsed into speaking in a foreign tongue. (OOC: Drugs reduce cognitive skills.) When she realized he sat mute in front of her, she lashed out, “Fuck you! Talk to me, damn you asshole son-of-a-bitch!!” (OOC: Swearing is bad.) His silence was unforgivable. (OOC: As was this role-play. Sheesh!)
(THIS ROLEPLAY IS PROVIDED ON AN "AS IS, AS AVAILABLE" BASIS. THE WRITER GIVES NO WARRANTY, EXPRESSED OR IMPLIED, FOR THE WORDS PROVIDED, INCLUDING, WITHOUT LIMITATION, WARRANTY OF AMUSEMENT AND WARRANTY OF FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE WHATSOEVER. THIS WARRANTY EXPRESSLY INCLUDES NO REIMBURSEMENT FOR SPEWING LIQUIDS ONTO YOUR KEYBOARD OR THROUGH YOUR NOSE. I MAKE EVERY EFFORT TO AMUSE BUT I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR LACK OF SELF CONTROL.)
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Post by femme fatale on Feb 7, 2009 7:06:55 GMT -8
The server slams the cup on the counter and yells "Order UP Magni Special Macchiato! Enjoy, and welcome to Café Damari where coffee is served all night."
Femme fatale flinched alittle bit hearing the hoarse voice of the barista, at once grabbing the cup and downing it in one swig. "Third cup.." she murmured, eyeing everyone in the cafe. She doesn't think she knows everyone in the cafe. She has heard of this David and of his gang but haven't really talked to one of them. Or not. Maybe the caffiene is making her memory alittle bit blurry. She stands, somewhat having that elated feeling when she drinks too much blood but this time its because of the coffee and how, she's not really sure why. She looks around, a familiar face coming into focus. Why of course its Boomer. She grins as she heard the word drugs somewhere. She might try that, or she just might help sell for kicks.
Tapping her chin, she ponders on approaching Boomer or staying in that spot where the scent of the coffee is stronger. She saw Boomer curse the man on the table. what an odd, eerie, creepy man and oh boy the grin, at once she loathe that grin but as she saw whats on the table, that thought had been wiped out. She is now only thinking about the blood vials. She floats..dramatically to the table and grabs one, holding it against the light, "hmm, I wonder..." she stammers.
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Post by The David on Feb 8, 2009 7:44:21 GMT -8
The David stared at the new spanish-speaking girl. He would have presented an agape expression of bewilderment, but his mask seemed to insist on wearing a perpetual menacing grin, no matter how often he willed it otherwise.
"I apologise, Miss, I'm afraid I don't speak your lingo," he said. "What is it you're after?"
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SinisterGrin:
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Post by SinisterGrin: on Feb 10, 2009 7:15:16 GMT -8
“Oi Grinsister!” a voice slammed against His back. Well. Fancy that. Somebody was -speaking- to -Him-. What a brilliant day this was! “Why so distant?”
He turned, measuring the distance between Himself and the female. Hmm.
She was adjusting her clothing, walking nonchalantly toward where Vespertine had dropped himself, clueless as to the fact that she was making people's lives miserable by simply walking toward somebody.
The distance between the two had shortened by a few feet, now.
"Come on back!" another shout directed at Him, or so He assumed. Well. Alright. There wasn't much to do today, anyway, was there? And Mav hadn't said that He should leave Cafe Damari, had she? No. No she hadn't. Well. He'd just spend a few minutes (or however long that turned into) chit-chatting and hanging about.
An answer to her initial question, "Well. I do believe that I'm so distant because i haven't, yet, started walking over to you. Give it a moment, and I'll fix the problem," and He did just that, shoes clicking professionally against the floor as He moved in the direction of Vespertine and Idony.
Problem solved.
He dragged a chair from one of the tables over to them as He sauntered on over, dropping Himself into it, and focusing on the two. Well, now, He really didn't have anything to say. But Hell... He'd stick around for shits-'n'-giggles, anywho.
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Post by On on Feb 10, 2009 8:36:06 GMT -8
On leaned on her staff a bit more heavily then usual as she stepped into Damari's place, it had been some time since she had entered here. A long time since battle had her craving Damari's brew. It was good to be back... she smiled at fond memories of its opening...
"Have you had coffee? What brings you to the Cafe?" The lady herself was in attendance. "Your coffee love, best in the City... and strongest... and perhaps a chaser tonight..."
On caught his eye and nodded.
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Idony
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IGN: Idony | OOC: Cora
Posts: 1,581
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Post by Idony on Feb 12, 2009 21:59:02 GMT -8
Pleased to be in the company of two favourite gents, Idony leaned back against the bar in a further endangerment of whatever stability she sat on, and leisurely looked from one to the other in content silence. With the corner of her eye she noticed On entering the cafe. It seemed a bit odd that vampires would so fancy drinking coffee over blood, and spend money on it too. Looking around, there was a fair attendance present.
“So, when are we going to start trashing the place?” she eventually asked her two companions in mocked whisper. The youth wasn't particularly alert or anxious, but wrecking a cafe out of principle was as good a reason as any for mobilisation. It was just why the gang appealed to her - Clans were formed primarily for tangible benefits, allegiances of good or evil added simply to ease classification. But she had yet to see a good clan without a bit of evil in it, or truly immoral individuals – those clans were even more ridiculous. Evil would suggest betraying even ones own clanmates if profit called for it. Few ever did; even though admittedly, complete purity in classifications was a naïve idea to pursue.
The Midnights though were singularly about individuality in what Idony was concerned. Certainly they were born for annoyance and destruction and claimed a chaotic construct. But all it came down to was pursuing ones pleasures freely and without inhibition, though inhibition was a hard thing to shake. And like a Pavlovian pup, when the bells of social norms rang, regardless of the source of pleasure seeking and whatever entertainment qualities it held, inhibition was sure to be secreted from every pore of consciousness.
“Or should we wait for more to get here...? Oh but it's boring! Come on...”
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Henry Key
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Post by Henry Key on Feb 15, 2009 13:47:40 GMT -8
Henry literally dragged himself into the Café, pulling his body through the front door like some bizarre snake with arms. He wasn't exactly in the best of shape; his clothes were a little beat-up, smoking in some parts as if the man had the unfortunate propensity to get involved in a flamethrower war between two blind women. His trademark top hat remained perched upon his dark-haired head, however, and after lying face down on the floor of Café Damari he stood and half-collapsed into a chair near Idony and the other two gents. "Looong coupla weeks," he complained. "The smell of garlic spray hasn't even washed out of my coat yet, and I think the rubber on the bottom of my boots has peeled off from that damned Celerity quest."
The vampire paused, looking towards the counter, and yelled at the person working behind it. "ONE MOTHERFUCKING COFFEE, PLEASE." After another short pause, he shouted once more: "ANY KIND."
"Mmm, black blood." He absentmindedly said to himself. "Good evening, sir," he said to the male he didn't know -- the other, Vespertine, was a member of the gang so Henry at least knew of him -- and then proceeded to poke the stranger in the eye. "Who might you be?"
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Post by Cerridwen on Feb 17, 2009 6:50:25 GMT -8
Having recently awakened Cerridwen had been hearing the whisperings around the city. For the most part she was disinterested in the going ons of the city. She'd grown bored long ago.
Mostly over the last year she'd remained alone. But the whisperings of this cafe pulled her. Despite her displeasure at even stepping foot anywhere near the owner. The draw of the whispers was stronger.
Black blood. She'd secretly craved the black blood all her unlife. Yet her "honor" always kept her somewhat clean of it. She grunted in disgust to herself. Honor. What had that gotten her.
Cerridwen often mumbled to herself now. She found it kept most humans and other vampires away. So it was truly odd that she be entering a cafe where other kindred would be near.
But the black blood called to her, her body dry and depleted for so long. The rush of fresh, unbriddled blood filling her body pushed her forward.
Entering the cafe she looked around her and moved to a corner immediately. To watch and observe all those present.
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Damari
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Post by Damari on Feb 17, 2009 15:34:44 GMT -8
"Get the fuck out of my cafe Cerri. Or I will make your unlife a misery. Again."
"I love Jean DeVenn but I have absolutely no patience for you and this was not the best idea you ever had as the place to make your return.
You with your stinking neutrality and your chicken shit leaving of this city because you couldn't handle the truth. If you want me to label your truth again for the city to see then by all means come into my cafe and tempt your fate with me again. But be warned I haven't forgiven you and don't see that happening any time soon."
"The choice will be yours. Stay if you wish. But I will rip you apart and stand back and watch you bleed before this city again. And love every damned minute of it. I was looking for another distraction. Let that be you then?"
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