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The Lycan's Den


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Quinn Abernathy

Things move fast here, and Quinn finds herself a little overwhelmed. First, Derek and his frisking. Then, Solomon to her rescue. Now, she's holding a toddler and being introduced to the security guard. She can't help it as she passes a smile in Derek's direction. He was just doing his job, after all. Like he said. Kind of.

"Nice to meet you, Derek."

Doesn't matter. It takes no time at all for Quinn to turn her attention to the tiny bundle of terror in her arms. She is booping Ella on the nose, creating some strange game that, at the very least, Quinn enjoys.

It's obvious by that stupid smile on her face.

She loves kids.

Especially babies.

Don't forget the giggles.

Quinn's, that is.

'So, what's new..'

"Huh?" She glances at Adara, and then up to Solomon. What's new? Nah. We're going to avoid that topic entirely at the present. The safety of herself and other's depends on it. Of course, Quinn knows she can't avoid the topic of 'new' for very long. That 'new' has traveled with her to New York, and will be making an appearance at some point. Now that she knows Tiber is here... there are more safety concerns than she had been prepared for.

Quinn must maintain the peace.

What to do... oh. Yes.

Change the subject.

"I can't believe how big Ella is," She grins at the child, "I remember when you were in Miss Addie's belly! And Miss Addie, you look so good! You haven't changed at all!"
January 21, 2018 05:50 pm

Adara Doe

Oh, that’s sweet.

Same old Quinn.

Really thinks that Addie will let that sh-t go.


“Yes, she has grown.” Adara could play this game, especially since she knew her husband had followed right behind the retreating Tiber; someone would spill, come hell or high water.

Or sharp implements.

“And of course, John and I are pretty much the same. Other than the fact we’re exhausted from the last couple of years; being so close to John’s parents was… different. If you think he’s intimidating, you should see his father.”

Oh, yes; the blonde could play nice. Just innocent conversation.

She could totally do this.

Until then, Addie would let it go, she would let Quinn change the subject and while the security man and Sol stared one another down, she’d ease her lithe frame toward the closest table, being on her feet was just something she was not going to do at this moment.

“Come sit with me, Quinn… Sol… if you won’t tell me what’s new with you. Fill me in on other things.”

So, it didn’t last that long. Oh well. At least she didn’t outright throw a tantrum about it. She could have.

Yeah, really, she could.

The only thing that really wasn’t sitting well with her was the We in the text message and she was sure if she thought about it long enough, maybe she’d figure it out.

Tiber running.

Quinn said we.

There was only one, not a w…


Well, if that was the secret, it wouldn’t be now with Addie’s voice carrying likely all the way to the crazies next door.
January 22, 2018 10:43 am

John Doe

 John barely clears the doors into the kitchen when the slightly blown up man he came to see about nearly crashes into him in his haste to leave the room. Can’t really blame him for wanting to leave in a hurry, Raul has been in an even less than pleasant mood since he had to rush to open the kitchen.  If the place isn’t full stocked and prepared constantly then the goblin is even more unruly than normal.

Looking around at the many cooking implements strewn about the place, and sticking in the walls, John can see that Tiber not only aggravated the monster but was still as quick on his feet as ever to have avoided everything thrown at him.

With a single raised hand in the direction of the cook the tirade, along with the poised meat cleaver, stops as the ugly little man returns to his ovens and meal preparations as if nothing at all had just happened.

With that issue dealt with John turns his attention to the soot blackened man mumbling in front of him.  “Yeah, there are some overly curious raccoons in these parts that have managed to get that door open on more than a few occasions. We had to start locking the back door once Raul ran out of ways to prepare raccoon that was in anyway palatable.”

Twisting the top off of the bottle that he brought with him he tops off the glass that Tiber had managed to retain possession of during his flight. Once the glass is near the top he takes a shot for himself straight from the bottle before recapping it.

“Now how about you tell me what this escape business is all about while we are sharing this quiet moment together.” John does not do the feelings thing or the sensitive supportive friend thing but this was Tiber and clearly something was going on that John felt he needed to know about.  It wasn’t like he cared, that’s what he told himself, he just wanted peace under his roof. But it was Tiber and Quinn, and even for a heartless monster like John, that made it matter. 

January 22, 2018 12:19 pm

Tiber Loche

The past year has been a rocky road.

And that's putting it mildly.

Tiber's lips press together, his teeth clenching just hard enough so that when the burst of air that fills his mouth releases from his chest it inflates his cheeks. John is pressing him about what's going on with him and Quinn. There's no dancing around it. Tiber isn't the best at being evasive, simply because he had never felt that there was anything to gain from it. Here was one of the people he trusted most asking him.

It becomes increasingly clear that neither of the Doe's are privy to the fact that him and Quinn were not together anymore. Nevermind that she had gone and married some lunatic who Tiber wouldn't trust any further than he could throw him.

And Tiber is strong.

The man is grateful for John as he topped off his drink, hastily taking a chug (or two) and washing the bitter taste down with an audible Ah.

"I'm just not ready to see her yet." Tiber manages as plainly as he can, doing his best to suppress any risidual emotion that might linger around the words themselves. "I wasn't the best husband. Or person. She should hate me, really. I'm sure she didn't know I was here."

Oddly enough, it starts to sound like Tiber is rambling. An unlikely sight, for sure.

Then, he really brings it home.

"I haven't seen her for months."
January 22, 2018 05:16 pm

Quinn Abernathy

Everything is going so -


Her ears ring, and Quinn is stunned into silence. The look on her face is something akin to a deer caught in headlights, and she can feel the heat rising in her cheeks. She understands, all too well, why Tiber ran for it. Honestly, she wishes she could, too.

Why can't she?

Suddenly, she is parched.

A drink would be nice.

Quinn gives Tabatha a little wave, "T-... Tabatha, could I have water, please?"

She would step up to the bar quickly to retrieve that water too, despite the glowering look from the woman on the other side. Once more aware of the child upon her hip, the girl would look from Ella to Addie.

"Solomon is marrying Katherine. In a skirt."

The words escape her before she can stop them. So desperate to hide, she would throw one of her best friends under the bus in her wake just to change the subject. Ella is quickly passed to Addie before the water is gulped down.

"Excuse me," the words are fast, and quiet, and Quinn sets the glass down upon the bar's surface hard before beginning her march toward the kitchen.

She cannot handle this pressure alone.
January 22, 2018 06:27 pm

Derek Norse

That escalated...quickly.

Derek, unafraid, and while stoned, certainly not impaired, continues the stare down with Solomon easily. He might be a goof, but he would always answer a challenge. What he really wants to say is that he would touch this beard with a twenty foot pole. The minute the contact is broken, the man is texting.

His brother, and Sloth, about the girl and the growing challenge.

It's on, Sloth.
It. Is. On.

But, the boss is screaming. The blond is doing nothing to deny it. She orders water. She says that the beard is a into ladies clothing.

She is running off toward the kitchen.

All is not lost.
Derek is still confident.

Sliding into the seat next to Adara and Ella, he picks up a napkin and looks at Tabatha, "Pen, Topanga. Please." The look he receives as the pen is practically thrown at him would cause anyone else wither. But not Derek. "Thanks!"

Instantly, he is scribbling on the napkin.

"So," he speaks to Adara, "is now a good time to tell you I'm not a cop?"
January 22, 2018 07:52 pm

John Doe

John isn’t at all sure what to think at that revelation, he knows that they have been gone for a little while now but he didn’t ever expect that there could be problems between Tiber and Quinn. Nothing so serious that they would be driven apart by it.

“A few months? What did you do, join the Army and get shipped off to the sand box while I was away?”

The large man gives a shake of his head as he uncaps the bottle again with a quick flick of his thumb. With the way this conversation is going and by how his friend looks and sounds he doesn’t even try to catch the cap, just lets it spin off onto the floor to roll under one of the many cabinets.

Taking another long pull from the bottle and leans back against the wall next to the door and gives the young man a long look before speaking again.

“How can you not be ready to see her if it has been so long since you saw her last? Maybe you weren’t the best at being a husband or the best version of yourself but all of us are guilty of that at some time.”

Holding the bottle out he refills Tiber’s glass for him, working to keep it full as they talk. John has found that whiskey makes a great lubricant when attempting to ease a conversation out of someone that seems reluctant to let things out.

“Regardless though, she is here and you are here and both of you now know the other is here even with your escape attempt.  I think maybe a few months have been long enough and ready or not, perhaps it is time for you to find out what she thinks of you at this point in time.”

Reaching across he gives his friend a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder, showing solidarity in the face of females everywhere.

“And if things go badly, Raul will make us some enormous steaks to go with a few bottles of amber perfection and we will eat and drink the pain down to a dull roar that can be managed for another day.”

January 22, 2018 11:52 pm

Adara Doe


“Wait a minute…” If anyone could be distracted easily, it was Addie; it wasn’t always this way, normally she was like a dog with a bone (ha) when she wanted information, but today was just not her day. “Katherine Murray? The Scot?”

Sidetracked, much?

“I know her, well, John knows her, from years back. She used to live her, in the basement. John gave her a coffin; pretty sure he thought it was a riot. I didn’t get it. She’s… different.”

Now that she addressed Quinn’s little distraction, she would lock those mossy orbs onto the other blonde’s retreating back; Adara thought about chasing after her but with John, Tiber, and the little goblin in the kitchen that Quinnie was headed straight for.


She has had enough knives thrown at her already.

Plus, there was Ella.

Not a chance.

The kid would somehow end up with a knife and show just how much she was like the serial killer half of her DNA.


Just bad for everyone.

Instead she’d turn those green eyes back to the security man; Addie would just shake her head, an expression of disbelief crossing over her face before her lips tugged at the corners, there was no use in even trying to come down on this guy.

He was hilarious.

Addie liked him.

“Noooo, really?” Yeah, she liked him, not enough to not be sarcastic. “Who would have guessed that? I mean, you’re the epitome of law enforcement.”

-Insert snort here-

“Oh, by the way, I’ve found your brother. Invited him here too.”

January 24, 2018 08:29 am

Derek Norse

Derek doesn't pick up on sarcasm. Or, if he does, no one would ever notice. Likely the former is the case, as the man is almost constantly out of his mind. It is when he does his very best thinking.
No one would ever suspect him for what he is.

And no, we don't mean werewolf.

"Listen, Linda," he looks at the boss, expression sage. "Don't be fooled by my boyish good looks. I can sniff funny business a mile away. Sometimes more."

At the mention of his brother, Derek comes to realize that maybe this woman is more skilled than himself and his dweeb brother combined. He can't believe it.

Wait. How did she find him?

Did he lose his phone?

Nope. Got that.

Did she search for his stash?

No way. She'd never find it in the sock drawer.

Did she inject him with a some sort of tracking device?

Maybe. Just maybe.

Play it cool.

"Wes isn't so hard to find. All you gotta do is follow the stink of cigarettes and angst." He pauses, taking a long pull from the rolled, questionable cigar in hand. "How'd you find him?"
January 26, 2018 11:00 am


Mackenzie made her stance clear: Today would be the day that Sonder moves in on the Den proper, and drinks the entire bar dry. The Doe's and their people had been given a solid week or so to settle, and surely by now - this shouldn't be a surprise.

So, as the petite fleur monster steps into the warm space, she is greeted by.. what the f-ck.

Solomon, thankfully not dancing on the bar.

Adara, with Guy Ginger at the bar.

Tabatha, behind said bar.

Quinnie [read: sarcastic af] marching toward the kitchen.

No John.

No one else.

For a moment, she wonders if she should check the pulse on this place. Of all the times she had ever been here, it has never been so quiet. She tiptoes in, shrugging her jacket off as she makes her way to the bar to sit on the other side of Guy Ginger.

"The f-ck did you do, Adara? Murder everyone?"

Yea, she'd missed these people.
January 26, 2018 02:53 pm

Dempsey Kasdeya

The Den, The Lycan’s Den, go to The Den.

It was a constant chant reverberating through Dempsey’s brain, goading her to come out of the depths of her solitude and join the public world to partake in some social interactions. Was she supposed to drink? Sing or dance? The thought of being around so many people, new people was terrifying and Dempsey wasn’t entirely sure how she felt about venturing into the unknown. She was comfortable in her routine and she wasn’t very fond of change, especially with her recent victim dead and rotting somewhere in a bathtub. Dempsey knew how to put on a show, to pretend to be a different person that she was, but it still made her nervous.

“You can do this Demps. You can do this.” Currently, she stood outside the large wooden building, looking in at her reflection and the spattering of patrons beyond the panes of glass. Wild locks of curly black hair were an untamed mess falling around her light brown cheeks. Her eyebrows were furrowed together and her pale pink lips pursed as she continued mentally preparing herself to step foot inside the building.

The Lycan’s Den.

This was where Mackenzie had told everyone to go, a place where they would be safe and free of judgment. A place that Mackenzie trusted her people to be free in. Dempsey was new to Sonder, new to relying on other people, but if she was going to uphold her end of the bargain she’d have to get over herself and step over the threshold and stop holding herself back.

Another agonizing moment passed before Dempsey finally stepped away from the window. She was always looking on, always lurking outside people’s windows, watching and waiting. She studied people, and become obsessed with the people that were always on the other side. Dempsey couldn’t do that here, she couldn’t kill these people or become sickly obsessed with these people, her peers.

“Here goes nothing.” Dempsey patted the pocket of her satchel that held her notebook before finally walking through the door and into the building. She saw someone that she recognized, Mackenzie, and a handful of people that she didn’t. Her eyes darted around the room looking for all possible exits as she made her way over to the bar.

“Water please.” The bartender nodded before handing over a glass full of water. The cool condensation on the outside of the glass left Dempsey’s hands wet as she sipped and looked around the room some more. 

January 26, 2018 03:35 pm

Quinn Abernathy

Quinn hesitates outside the door to the kitchen. The two men (and a single goblin) within have still not emerged, and she is more than aware that she is running away from a confrontation that she is unwilling to partake in. How hard is it, really, to tell people that love you that things are vastly different from what they expect? Other people are starting to filter in. The brogue she recognizes easily, and the second voice that breaks through the quiet chatter is new.

Quinn likes new. She enjoys meeting new people. In some sick way, she probably manages to live vicariously through them.

Don't judge her. Her own living arrangements aren't exactly desirable.

Tiber could wait, right? It's not like he will get very far.

But she wants to see him.

Sucking in a deep breath, she steels herself, peeking into the kitchen to see the two men talking. Chocolate hues wander over the back of John's burly form before locking on to Tiber. Some things never change, and Tiber Loche is one of them. She gives him a small, stressed smile. Heartfelt as always, but clear she needs some back up. Her eyebrows would raise, and her head would tilt momentarily as if beckoning him to follow.

And then she would be gone, back into the bar. Those same eyes would sweep over the scene. Avoid Addie, she's asking questions and she isn't ready to talk. The security guy.. he's okay. But he's talking to Addie. Mackenzie, also talking to Addie. But there is that new girl.

With water.

This is meant to be.

She blond would find her way near the other woman, waving at Tabatha for another water before looking at her. "It's better with moonshine."

She's not a drunk.


"I'm Quinn."
January 26, 2018 05:21 pm


Tanvir holstered the bag strap higher over her shoulder. The same beaten leather bag she’s carried during her first encounter with the curiosities that made up the realm. A tan leather, re-sewn in parts, torn in others. Her jeans didn't fare much better, though the majority of the 'wear and tear' was intentional. And as for her jacket, they'd have to remove it from her person when they lowered her into the grave.

Funny the things we seem unable to throw away, even when they’ve passed their best before date.

Within, her camera, equally as beaten, equally as loved, some clothing, a few passports in different names, each with a matching photograph of her face, and cash. Too much cash. Far too much cash that she’d have to figure out where to store…once she’d found somewhere to lay low for a while.

The last few years had been tough. Days of discover, weeks hidden in the darkness. Months undercover with the one man she’d never imagined to call an ally. But now it was through. It was over. It was all actually fcking over and for the first time in years, she could fill her lungs with fresh, clean air and have a little peace.

Just the littlest of peace. Was that too much to ask?!

Her life prior, her life as one of the aforementioned curiosities, had been spent in After Dark, surrounded by vampires, witches and demons. Her love, her Yoshi, had been a vampire. Her friends, vampires. She, herself, had lived as one for many years, knowing no different, believing it was all she was.

But she’d been wrong and she’d been wronged, and now she wanted the fresh start, the one that, yes, had limitations, but was do-able. But for ease, and possibly safety, she decided to cross the line and spend some time with those who would believe her to be their equal, at least in race. For she could walk in the light, breath and beat, and pass as human like the best of them, only falling short when the thirst became too much.

Or when the voices joined in.

The Lycan’s Den. She knew the name, albeit only by reputation, and she knew the owner. Well no, she didn’t know him, but she’d known the woman he’d once loved, and she owned much of her life to the angel, wherever she now was.

So with a deep breath, and a deeper reach for courage into the pit of her stomach, Tanvir Buckley entered the Lycan's Den, heading directly for the bar.
January 26, 2018 05:50 pm

Dempsey Kasdeya

Dempsey let her eyes take in the appearance of the approaching figure for a moment before she turned her attention back to the cool glass beneath her hand. Hazel eyes lingered on the ripples in the water from her quivering before she brought the glass once more to her lips. The liquid slide down her dry throat, lubricating her pipes so her voice wouldn’t crack when she attempted to speak. However, when she parted her lips to speak to the newcomers nothing intelligible came from her tongue, there was only more silence hanging above her head. Dempsey wasn’t used to surrounding herself with others and she certainly wasn’t sure how to make small talk. She barely even conversed with herself and often forgot what her own voice sounded like. Her thoughts were not spoken but written in the book that was tucked safely away in her bag. Out of habit, Dempsey reached into the pocket of the canvas bag to feel the familiar leather spine of her treasured notepad.

I’m Quinn

Thank goodness the blond opened her mouth to speak before Dempsey had to think of something clever to say.

The pretty, pretty blond with a sweet face.

Pretty Quinn.



Dempsey mentally berated herself for slipping into her normal habits, but she couldn’t stop herself from admiring the beauty of what was in front of her. Quinn was a lovely thing, but a lovely thing that Dempsey was not allowed to claim as her own. Quinn was off limits, and Dempsey wouldn’t let herself cross the line that she desperately wanted to cross. Plus she was sure that part of the reason she was so intrigued by Quinn was due to the recent loss of her Thomas.


Lovely, Quinn, would have to remain a mystery.

“I’m Dempsey, and I don’t drink alcohol. I don’t like to cloud my judgments.” The allotted time for awkward silence had already flown past and Dempsey needed to speak or her presence would surely be alarming.  Dempsey took another languid sip of her water before attempting to speak again.

“I’m not good with people.” Dempsey wasn’t sure why she was admitting her faults or if it was socially acceptable, but she offered it up as an excuse for the incredibly long moment of silence that just passed between the women as she talked herself out of obsessing over the blond. 

January 26, 2018 11:24 pm

Gideon Abernathy

No more coffee, she'd said, so he obliged. That doesn't mean he's letting the fifth cup go to waste, though, and it's clutched firmly in his hand as he trudges across the grounds of the Den toward the larger, roomier bar of sorts.

The weather here is face-bitingly cold, a welcome change to the oppressive heat of New Orleans. Much quieter, too. For a moment, he remembers why he'd chosen it as a temporary home so long ago, and for another moment, he longs to come back. A thought that is short-lived as soon as he remembers who else resides here. Taking a deep breath, he re-centers himself; he's here for Quinn, he'll do the best he can.

Upon entering the building, he will not stop and look around. His black gaze is trained directly on the bar and the blonde that happens to have taken up residency there. Perfect, right where he wants her. Coming up beside Quinn, the only acknowledgement he offers is a gentle hand to her lower back, a show of affection or possessiveness, however you want to look at it.

The mug in his hand, now only a fourth of the way full with the steaming black coffee, is held out over the lip of the bar until the less-than-pleasant tender takes notice. "Can you put whiskey in here?" She stares at him for a moment, and he finally gets the hint. "Please." Uncapping a bottle, she dumps a splash in, to which Gideon's eyes narrow infinitesimally. "More." Another glug. "Fill. It. Up." She must have seen something in his gaze, as she does as she's prompted without further complaint.

Content with his drink, he takes a large swig before finally glancing over to his wife and her new companion. "You two are already on water? Christ, I'm really late..."
January 27, 2018 09:20 am
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