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The Lycan's Den


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There’s a sudden drop in Tanvir’s throat, right down to her stomach. The nervous type. The shocked type. The sort where you feel like you’ve been caught out, or seen a ghost. All of which she has, simply by scent alone. Because it didn’t take long to cross to the bar, and it took less time still to locate a solitary stool and establish a temporary residence upon it. But the scent hit her in a split second, and the figure that emerged as her view of the patrons altered brought a very real face, and an even more familiar voice, blaring into the space.


This is why she’d come here. To escape the darkness, at least until she was ready to face it. And the grounds of the Den had been so congested with the scent of wolves, mortals and angels that she’d obviously missed the curious scent of her own kind. Idiot. But what the hell was Mackenzie doing here anyway?

Without much thought to the matter, she quickly slipped her hand behind her neck, loosening the braid of her until it fell like silk about her face. And with a hand in the right position, with fingertips to her temple, she could distort her profile just enough to get away with being ’random redhead’ and nothing more.

“Whatever the strongest whisky is. No e. Whisky. Strong and doubled.” she replies to the standard question, before slipping her free hand into her inner pocket for her phone. But once the device is in her grasp, she realises the sheer lack of people she’s able to send a ‘help me!’ to, and instead replaces it, opting to pick at a bar mat until her order is delivered.

Far too much had changed. Someone had redrawn the line and she’d obviously missed it on her way in.

So let her drink her drink and slip out slowly when the opportunity presented itself.
January 27, 2018 09:43 am

Quinn Abernathy

The smile that the woman receives from Quinn is warm, the name being committed to memory. Dempsey. Should be easy to remember. She likes it, too. This is the first Dempsey she has ever met, and there is something excessively nice about the woman before her. It causes a nod of understanding and acceptance as the woman voices her lack of care of the drink.

A long pause.

Another moment of quiet, and she makes another confession.

They'd get along swimmingly.

"You're honest," the observation, and vote of confidence in Dempsey, combined, is voiced with appreciative ease.

Quinn didn't see Gideon coming, but she knows instantly he is there by a simple touch. To her, it is affection. To him... probably definitely possessive. But it's okay. Her attention remains on Dempsey, the only acknowledgment to Gideon being the slight shift of her body as she barely leans closer to him.

Dempsey, meet Quinn. Quinn is naive, looks for the best in people, trusts easily, wants to be everyone's friend, and is low-key crazy for all the reasons listed prior. Right now, it is obvious to her that there is slight discomfort in the social aspect of things, and she thinks hard on how to turn it around.

A confession of her own.

"I had an imaginary friend until I was 12."

Finally, the two women are acknowledge, and Quinn gives Gideon a smile. "Giddy, this is Dempsey. Dempsey, Giddy." With that, she finally takes a drink of her water before giving the woman a smile behind the rim of her glass. She swallows, lowering it to the bar, and finally speaks.

"We started with water."
January 27, 2018 10:08 am


There is a great deal happening around her, which would be why she does not immediately sense the ghost of marriages past. Mackenzie lets her observation go, noting how quickly the space is now filling up. And, as one of her own shows up, she would prepare herself to go greet Dempsey... only for that plan to be thwarted by the little blond subject of her saltiness.

Good. Let her make some friends. That's what this is for, right?

So she would sit, and wait, and have two neat whiskeys before she finally seems to realize the figure sitting upon a lonely stool.


And she is... what? Really?


Clearing her throat, Mackenzie considers all the ways in which she could blow up Tanvir's spot. Words, yelling, invasion of personal space. All of these things come to mind, but instead, she beckons Tabatha.

The petite thing would stand up, leaning over the bar to whisper in the angry woman's ear. For whatever reason, the woman seems to like what is said. The reason why, of course, would be unveiled in short order as a shot of several different liquors is poured and placed before Tanvir.

And then lit on fire.

Bailey's Comet strikes again.
Love, Mackenzie.
January 27, 2018 10:17 am

John Doe

As he prepares to elaborate further with large helpings of fatherly type advice for the younger man John is interrupted by the head of Quinn poking past the door and then just as quickly disappearing. It looks like things were working themselves out without John needing to interfere at all. All he really needed to do was make sure the two occupied the same relative space for a little while and he was sure they would begin talking and all of those things couples did.

Speaking of couples though, the man thinks he has been away from his darling bride for entirely too long both now and the last couple of weeks as well.

Giving a stern but knowing look at his friend he makes a motion with his head towards the main room that the girl just slipped back into after looking in. “I think it is time we both got back out there. I do believe we have people waiting on us.”

With that he turns and heads through the double doors, relatively confident that Tiber would follow him out and the young people could figure out whatever it was that needed figuring out. John was sure he would find out from Addie exactly what the full story was but until then he was content to let them see to their own affairs.

Once back in the main room John heads directly to his wife and child. He was sure they would both be needing their sleep soon and he meant to have them in their beds very soon. The baby so she could sleep and the wife so...other things could happen.

Making his way across the floor he gives nods of greeting to everyone once more, happy that more were showing up. The Den might get to be a hot spot again after all as long as people keep showing up like this.

As he approaches his darling wife he overhears the last of the conversation she is having and with a chuckle and the shake of his head he answers the question for his wife.

“Trust me friend, you don’t want to know. She likes to keep tabs on everyone and everything and will use as many illegal and even immoral ways as she can to do it. Don’t worry though, I’m sure it was a simple trick that will cause few permanent injury.”

With that he begins collecting his bride and their child and ushering them towards the back door of the Den that leads to their house over the lake. He allows her to say her goodbyes and promises of coming right back once the baby was asleep but continues to push her gently to the door until she is broken free of the main room and they are on their way up the path to their house.

John will come back down to the bar shortly, once the baby is asleep and he has been able to enjoy a bit of quiet time with his wife. It has been a couple of weeks since they have seen each other after all and they had a few things to catch up on.
January 27, 2018 10:30 am


Tanvir reached for her whisky (no e), bringing the glass to her lips. It’s something old and strong and as the liquid coats her tongue and throat, she groans a little, content for the first time in, Jesus, how long?

But such things are short-lived, as is the way of the realm, for no sooner does she place her glass upon the table does Tabatha produce some odd-looking shot of something molten in front of her. The glass is placed so close, in fact, that the immediate fear of setting her loose strands of hair on fire causes her to sit back, pushing the bright red locks from her face.

She looks up, her eyes instinctively narrowing in on Mackenzie as she grabs at her hair in both hands, gathering the wavy mess into an equally as wavy ponytail. She’s re-braid it later but, for now, at least it was out of the line of fire.

Fire. A damn burning shot of fire that stunk of baileys and sambuca. But fck it. There was far too many directions to that this in, the easier option being the door, the more painful option probably also being the door. So instead, Tanvir leaned forward, blew out the near-invisible blue flame atop the shot glass and plucked it from the bar surface, necking the contents in one, short gulp.

Was this it? Despite everything, was this it? Could something more be gathered from this than an awkward hello or a meeting of fists behind the building? Tanvir knew the pain the woman had suffered. And she knew the part she’d played in that pain, over and over. And while she’d always found it so bizarre that Mackenzie seemed to be able to forgive Tanvir at every turn while struggling to allow Jack the same courtesy, would she deny herself some sort of happiness and a possible rekindling of friendship simply because she felt she owned Jack something?

With Tabetha looking on, Tanvir beckoned her over and made her own order, sitting back with a genuinely playful smirk, eyes on Mackenzie, as the woman produced before the vampire a Slippery Nipple.

Hey, at least it wasn’t an Irish Car Bomb.
January 27, 2018 10:39 am

Dempsey Kasdeya

There were so many people starting to trickle in the building, with every newcomer Dempsey become more and more edgy. It was hard enough trying to socialize with one person let alone ten. This was going to test Dempsey’s limits and if she walked out of this place with any thread of sanity it would be a miracle. She wanted to get up and run, she wanted to hide away and write away her troubles on the crisp pages of her journal. There were so many people, and it seemed like she had to do her best to appease them all.

Mackenzie was just in her periphery, and a part of her wanted to reach out to the woman for help, to help ease away the stress of the situation, but it seemed the woman was busy elsewhere and Dempsey would have to make it on her own. Pretty, Quinn, she could handle pretty Quinn, she liked pretty Quinn with the imaginary friend. She could sit here in silence with pretty, blond Quinn, but the other person that was approaching the pair did not sit well with Dempsey.

“Just because they can’t be seen doesn’t mean they aren’t real. Imaginary friends are the best friends.” It was the longest sentence Dempsey had spoken out loud in a long time, but she felt as if it needed to be said. She didn’t want pretty Quinn to feel ashamed of the friends she could or couldn’t see. Dempsey even secretly hoped that Quinn still talked to her imaginary friend. The weirder other people were, the more normal Dempsey allowed herself to feel. Dempsey had a fascination with death, but she was particular about her process, borderline OCD about how she made a kill. That was her quirk, and so it seemed Quinn’s quirk just couldn’t be seen by other people.

Dempsey didn’t care about really fitting in, she didn’t want real friends, but the more normal she looked, and the less suspicious she was to the authorities. When people looked for murderers they looked for people that did things psychologically unsound, they looked for disturbing characteristics. One of those characteristics being the lack of social interactions or friends. Loners were often targets of investigations. The more friends Dempsey was perceived to have, the lower she would be on FBI radars.  


Dempsey was ripped back into reality when Quinn began introducing her to the man that had approached. His glass smelled of hard liquor and Dempsey had to stop herself from recoiling away from the looming figure. There was something about him that made her uneasy, her stomached roiled with nerves and her fingers twitched at his close proximity. There was something off-putting about the man, and she particularly didn’t like how close he stood to her Quinn.


Not her Quinn.

Quinn didn’t belong to her.

Perhaps that was her unease towards the man. It seemed that he and Quinn were a thing, and that could be the root of her dislike towards the stranger. Nevertheless, she didn’t like being around him. However, she was trying out the normal thing so she strained to pull her lips back into the friendliest smile she could muster as she nodded her head in acknowledgment.

“Hi.” The word was short and void of any emotion as she sipped more of her water for a distraction. “No alcohol. Not first, not last. No alcohol.” The phrases was muttered inaudibly under her breath as she wriggled uncomfortably in her chair. Her eyes began searching the large room for anything to look at besides this Giddy fellow that made her skin crawl. 

January 27, 2018 12:56 pm

Quinn Abernathy

So, her new friend is a little shy. That's fine. Quinn is perfectly okay with shyness. She, too, could find herself being shy at times. It would flare up when she found herself somewhere with no one she knew. And now, she finds herself being shy of the people she knows. Because secrets.

But they aren't really secrets. Quinn simply does not want to have to explain things. She doesn't want Tiber to get in trouble, she doesn't want Giddy to be subject to questions, and most of all - she really doesn't want anyone here to find out that she lives with an actual cult.

Not just live with, but help run.

Fortunately, this shyness has helped her to meet Dempsey.

"It is hard to find friends as good as Imaginary ones," she agrees.

Normally, Quinn would be drinking. To be in the Den, without alcohol in hand, is not normal. It had been a stressful situation when she ordered her first water. Now, with Dempsey, it feels natural. Better, even. The blond feels as though she is in control of herself. That is rare.

With that in mind, she takes another sip of her water and looks into the glass momentarily. There is something about this woman that makes her want to spill her whole life story. Maybe it is because she is so nice.

In an effort to keep from alienating Gideon, while trying to hold this conversation with Dempsey, she sits facing the bar so that she can easily look between the two. The rising steam from the mug catches her attention, and Quinn leans to glances inside and sniff the contents as subtly as she can.


She would have to make sure that he had no more. He's going to have such a stomach ache. He needs water, too. Quinn decides not to say anything as she starts speaking, sitting up straight as she speaks to them both... but mostly, Dempsey.

"Her name is Suzie. Like the song, Suzie Q. It's one of my favorites." And so, that hopeful imagination begins to pull from it's depths some small thing from the past. "I saw this movie once, Drop Dead Fred. This girl has this imaginary friend that comes back when she's all grown up, because he misses her, and wants to play. She wasn't very nice to him, though."

Sidenote: Quinn loves movies.

Pressing her lips together, Quinn wonders momentarily if she is blowing it. She tells herself she isn't. This is the first friend she'll have made outside of the compound in months. This is going to be great. With that thought, her cheery disposition returns tenfold. Her moment of uncertainty is barely a blip on the radar.

"Are you part of the Den?"
January 27, 2018 03:42 pm

Gideon Abernathy

“It’s Gideon,” he corrects his wife, casting her a perturbed glance in the process. She knows all too well that he hates when she introduces him as her pet name. Giddy. It’s damn shameful.

He shifts to offer a hand for the new woman to shake, but he halts as he watches her body language. A brow quirks; is that…fear? Her mumbled response, barely above a hum, only solidifies his initial impression, and a smirk pulls at the corner of his mouth. “No alcohol?”

At this point, Quinn goes on a tangent - as she’s wont to do - and Gideon takes the opportunity to weigh his options. His eyes are still trained on this Dempsey woman as she does everything in her power to avoid looking in his general direction. However, she seems mildly drawn to Quinn, and his eyes narrow evilly. Oh, no, this is too good to pass up.

Waving down the bartender once more, he plants a winning smile on his face. “Could you please get us two-- make it four shots of whiskey? You did say you wanted to drink tonight, right, Quinn? I’m sure Dempsey wouldn’t mind, and we did come here to let loose.” The shots are placed in front of them, and he makes sure to scoot Quinn’s closer to her, letting the scent waft over to the woman on her other side.

“Bottoms up,” he prompts, taking them in quick succession and waving for more.
January 27, 2018 09:03 pm

Dempsey Kasdeya

Quinn rattled on about her imaginary friends and movies and Dempsey tried to follow along. She couldn’t really remember the last time she had seen a movie, or even which movie it was but she was content listening to Quinn go on about Suzie. Dempsey was still uneasy by the male’s presence but she tried to ignore him and focus on blondie, which was unachievable once he butted into the conversation and reintroduced himself before calling forth more alcohol to drown his tongue in.  He was definitely close to Quinn and Dempsey would have to be okay with that. However, she didn’t feel comfortable in his presence, and the thought of being around him when his mind was fogged over with intoxication made her feel even more worrisome.

She liked Quinn, but she wasn’t going to stick around to watch the pair get plastered.

When both Quinn and Gideon had gone about their business and finished speaking, Dempsey drained the rest of the contents of her glass down her throat before drifting off of her stool.

“It was nice to meet both of you, but I’m not going to stay. Enjoy your booze.” Dempsey was socially deprived, she could barely hold a conversation when she felt comfortable and at ease. She was testing her limits and she didn’t want to crack in front of all the people scattered around the bar.  Her eyes once more searched the surroundings for Mackenzie, who had at some point during her short conversation shifted out of her line of sight. Once spotted, Dempsey let a sigh of relief flow over her lips, it was nice to know if there was an ally close by.

“And no Quinn, I’m not part of the Den. I’m hers.” She nodded in the general direction of where Mackenzie stood before starting her retreat away from the couple. She hoped that one day in the future she would cross paths with Quinn, but for the time being she needed to get away. Needed to go back to her little home and be the recluse that she was meant to be. This was why she watched people from afar, this was why she didn’t speak to those she stalked. It made her uncomfortable, which made her look weak. Dempsey did not want to be categorized as weak even if it might be true.

As reclusive as she was, she did want to make friends with Quinn, which is something she’s never thought she’d want. For tonight, though, she would simply go home and remember every detail of the evening through her scribbled writing in her precious leather bound journal. She would remember pretty blonde and unsettling “Giddy” Gideon.  She would detail everything her mind could remember, and the more she thought about it, the more excited she was to leave the Den and head back home.

“I suggest the water over the alcohol, makes for better company.” Dempsey flashed one last smile at Quinn before turning on her heel to walk away, her short curls bounced around her head as she bound towards the door. 

January 27, 2018 11:10 pm

Tiber Loche

Tiber had opened his mouth to speak, fully ready to elaborate on what he had meant by hadn't seen her in months. The fog begins to clear and he realizes that it's likely that no one is privy to exactly what happened between him and Quinn. He's not entirely sure that he's read to face the proverbial music when it came to his closest peers and their forms of judgement. Not that they would be any more harsh than he deserved - he understands that they care about him. But they care about Quinn, too. And so did he. And he really f-cked up.

But John was right. Now was not the time to run. So when Quinn had peeked her head in, (and his heart had effectively dropped into his stomach) and John made the move to vacate back to the Den (properly, away from the kitchen), Tiber followed suit. Although he's careful to avoid eyecontact with just about everyone... And he hadn't even noticed that Gideon had snuck in, either.

Instead he makes sort of a B-line for Derek, sandwiched somewhere in the tangle of Doe bodies, chairs, and smoke.

"I know the smell you're omitting is not from that cigar." Tiber murmurs, leaning in over the table as his eyes locked on to the faketective. "Trade you?"
January 28, 2018 02:07 pm


Perfect. Not only did Mackenzie treat Tanvir, but she also nearly set her on fire without lifting a finger. That is skill, ladies and gents. You will never possess such a power. Satisfied, Mackenzie smirks to herself as she sips upon the icy beer before her.

A change of pace, if you will.

Tabatha would present a new shot, and Mackenzie comes prepared. One whiff tells her precisely what would be within those shots, and Mackenzie grins before blowing it out. Two seconds later, it would be gone.

So, the texting begins.

The expressions on her face are animated, far from her usually surly, cagey expression that she relies on to hide practically all her emotions and thoughts. Tanvir would see the profile of some true signature looks.

Beyond amused.
Borderline evil.

Leaning forward, Mackenzie beckons the grouch behind the bar once more to send Tanvir a parting shot before all hell would let loose - a Flaming Ąsshole. Watching as the poetic shot is served, the Irish woman would give a salute to her fiery counterpart down the bar before standing up.

"Honestly, Tabatha. I ordered those shots eons ago." Her voice is loud, and highly dramatized. Luckily, her brogue would save most from recognizing the theatrics. Tabatha, in the meantime, looks highly disgruntled. It is distinctly heard as she mutters something rude under her breath. One look down the bar, and she would spot two sitting upon the surface before the Star Wars man and his humanoid beeping circle of psychotic sunshine.

"Found them!"

Again, dramatized.

"Hey! Poe! Pass the whiskey! Harry! Yea, you! With the patchy scruff. Can you slide those over, please?"

No one is avoiding anyone, today.
Prayers for fireworks.
Lest I make them myself.
January 28, 2018 06:59 pm


Texting. Fcking hell, she’s missed this. She’s missed banter. Just fun conversation with someone. True, her and the Frenchman had had some fun between the hunting, stalking and killing, but it was always limited. Certain events or people were never brought into conversation, certain jibes were off limits. And while Tanvir appreciated the pain Jack had suffered, appreciated the hurt in his heart regarding the fiery Irish along the bar, she often found herself, especially toward the end, harbouring a few resentments toward him. After all, Mackenzie had been her friend too. And more, in fact. And while their time together in the past was predominantly alcohol fuelled, it had been meaningful and exactly what she’d needed at the time. Especially with everything regarding Yoshi, and the heartbreak she’d been left with. Heartbreak, a dangerous thirst, and a dead puppy in the finger freezer.

Eyeing up her new shot, and taking a moment to google it, Tanvir rested back a little in place, finding the best view for what was about to go down.

Quinnie, Mackenzie had called her. Of course her name was Quinnie. Uggggh, she could vomit right here at that one fact alone. She was the epitome of the All-American High School Cheerleader and since Tanvir was British and had never met an All-American High School Cheerleader, she could only go by the stereotypes. And Quinnie was ticking all the boxes, right down to that sickeningly sweet smile. Tanvir tilted her head to try and catch sight of a possible promise ring to seal the moment.

And that’s when Mackenzie started to Mackenzie about the place in the beautiful way Mackenzie’s do.

“HEY!” Tanvir found herself blurting out, her feet finding purchase upon the footrest of the stool, allowing her to stand above the heads of her fellow patrons. “I THINK YOU’LL FIND THOSE TO BE MIND, ACTUALLY. YOU, PRINCE JOHN. SLIDE THEM THIS WAY, THANK YOU VERY MUCH.”
January 28, 2018 07:16 pm

Promise Lenore

The Urber she took came to a halt just outside the large cabin she recognized from the 4chan post she had seen online. As she paid the driver and got out of the silver Ford Focus the slayer thought it would be nice to finally put a face to the leader she had spoke to online.

With her new membership came the welcome of other members who had caught her days before in the process of moving her belongings to a cabin provided by Mrs. Doe. Promise grabbed her black leather laptop bag and shut the car door. It became evident her slender frame was wearing a red metallic puffer coat, white oversized t-shirt, form fitting black jeans, and a white pair of over the knee block heeled boots.

As she stood in front of what seemed like an enormous cabin her full crimson lips parted as she exhaled releasing steam upon baited breath. “Well let's not keep them waiting.” she stated to herself as she marched in the crisp snow and then up the steps.

With one hand holding her laptop bag over her shoulder she pulled the door open with her right hand. People had gathered in sporadic locations throughout the room, some at the bar and a few around a table. It didn’t take long for to pick out the ones who had made an effort to get to know her before her arrival to the bar.

A giggle escaped her lush lips as she noticed the man who had spoke of frisking her and with that she stood waiting by the door for him to attend to his duty. In the meantime she amused herself with thoughts of what The Den had instore for her. Man she really needed a drink after a day at her job.

January 29, 2018 04:36 am

Quinn Abernathy

From one of the bar, Quinn watches as things unfold once her new friend leaves. Dempsey. She'll not forget the name, and makes mental note to tell Solomon to make sure he passes her contact information off to the woman. Gideon drinks, Tiber emerges, Mackenzie and a redhead start heckling some men named Poe, Harry, and Prince John. And Quinn, after finishing her water, takes a single shot.

The better to calm her nerves.

She looks at her phone, taking the seconds it takes to tap about her screen before returning her attention to the chaos around her. Her phone calls her to attention, and the only reaction it gets is a sigh. And then a glance at Gideon, with the second.

She's slightly annoyed at that one, it's true.

"Tabatha... may I have another, please?"

The bartender would oblige quickly, most likely due to Quinn's slightly paler complexion. One more glance at her phone, and her attention turns to Gideon. She leans into his side, pressing a kiss upon his cheek before slipping off her stool.

"Three minutes," Quinn speaks quietly to Gideon.

That said, she picks up her new shot and steps away to find a table at the back of the room. Once seated, facing the bar, she would down the shot and place the small, emptied glass upon the surface.
January 29, 2018 10:55 pm

Tiber Loche

If you thought that Tiber is completely ignoring the strange woman who is referring to the name Harry, you would be correct. Even though the glances tossed his way were a solid indication that he was, in fact, the splotchy haired man she speaks of. He doesn't exactly understand the reference, but he's also pretty sure that she's half in the bag. Or, at least, she is well on her way.

He's not even going to speculate about the rest of the bodies holding up the bar. No one on earth has enough time for the rampage he wishes he could go on. One way or another, as uneven as his temper seemed to be on the inside, outside he remains flaccid against the wooden chair where he sat at the round table where Addie, John and EJ has been just a few minutes before.

Your friend smells bad.
And he tried to frisk me.

Look to the left.

Suddenly he straightens up once more and finds himself glancing to the left as Quinn had instructed.
It's where she sat alone, at a table in the corner. Perhaps under the facade that she was enjoying the heat coming off of the fire. A rather cozy spot, he thinks.

Tiber makes the move before his mind can catch up with his body's betrayal.

"This is a dangerous dance." He's all but whispered, even though the voices belonging to the other patrons carry over his own quite easily. Unsure whether or not he wants to sit, he hovers over the table for a few more moments than it takes to seem awkward. His mass blocks out much of the light from behind him, and casts a shadow over Quinn where she sat facing the bar. But even with the lack of light, he doesn't find it out of the ordinary that she looked so... "Raul has nearly decapitated me once this evening. Imagine my surprise when John swooped in to save me and subsequently grieved me for avoiding my wife."

This is a Quinn Harper Loche Abernathy call out post.
January 30, 2018 01:11 am
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