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Theodora Hawthorne
Killed: January 07, 2019 at 04:35 pm EST
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Witch
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Born: July 20, 2018 Forum Topics Started: 0
Race: Witch Forum Posts / Replies: 2
Affiliation: Sine Metu Mail Replies Sent: 101
Home City: New Orleans Mail Sent: 13
In Union With: Not in Union Last Login:
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Current Mood: Hungry  Hungry 
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Jasper Thompson
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Last five threads posted in:
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HingleMcCringleberry 12/21/18 Theodora huh? Don't believe I've had a Theodora, I mean met a Theodora yet. And you're a maneater too huh? Well slap a $9.99 price tag on me and call me buffet!
Jasper Thompson 12/12/18 Don’t ask him how he managed, because it will always be a different story, every time he tells it. But when he drops back down into the tunnel system, it’s with a large case in hand and a loud whoop! of excitement. Glancing around, he makes a beeline for the new girl, though not-so-new to him. The box is set before her and Jasper straightens up, gesturing down to it proudly. Inside, she would find twelve bottles of her favored Whistlepig...

...as well as a set of hands, freshly removed and still dripping pleasantly. “Welcome to the crew,” he offers jovially, hands planted on his hips and a cheeky grin on his face.
Malek 12/09/18 What do peaches have to do with anything? Malek is genuinely confused for a moment as he puffs almost contentedly at his cancerous stick... that will, coincidentally, never actually cause him cancer. The smoke, acrid and grey blue, circles his head and clings to his hair before dissipating into the darkness as he slowly cants his head and stares at the strange female. "Don' touch'm' drink'n y'd no' 'ave glass'n'yer ass," he says quite simply as though it makes all the sense in the world. After all, it does. Fury has retreated into a state of simple curiosity as he reaches up and strokes his broad chin with blunt fingertips.

"Th'f'k's yer problem any'ow?" He demands, scarred nose wrinkling for a moment as he scents the air for anything besides the smell of smoke and whiskey. "Y'mak'uh 'abit'f buggin' fellas'n th' street? Drun' so'y'lookin'f uh figh'...?" He cants his head and smirks lasciviously, eyebrows bobbing once expressively. "'R'mebbe'ts somethin' uh bit moah…" a broad hand moves in a circular motion as though he is searching for a word. "...Carnal?" Question? Statement? Offer? All of the above? Who knows with the generally predictable only in his unpredictability lycan.
Malek 12/06/18 There is zero pause from the time his bottle is knocked out of his hand and the time his brain flashes through a dangerous series of commands. The nerves accept the impulse readily, transferring the command form neuron to neuron, seeming to bypass the entire nervous system to hit the massive "EXECUTE" button at Malek's shoulder.

With all the grace of a complete gentleman, Malek's right arm lifts and reaches outward, turning perpendicular to his shoulder. His arm rotates at the elbow and his palm flattens, fingers fanning out as though he is about to attempt to catch a baseball. A quick jerk of his arm sends his palm careening toward the side of the woman's head hoping to cuff her hard enough to drop her to the ground. A simple lesson, no?
Malek 12/06/18 The low growl that follows is not an expression that is meant to come from human vocal cords. Not even a little. In fact, it might even be slightly surprising that they don't simply shred to pieces and bleed when the sound emanates upward, seeming to start somewhere south of his diaphragm and echo through his broad chest. A brief pop can be heard as one of his toes pops out of place, the pain of the event not registering in his cold, feral eyes that lock upon those of the female.

"Ah li' mine," he says quietly, reaching out with blunted fingers long enough to wrap them around her bottle and, theoretically, send it careening to the sidewalk where it will shatter in an tinkling glass and an amber nova.
Malek 12/06/18 Apparently, Malek is in a volatile mood today. Who would have ever considered such a thing? As the female continues to pursue him, push him, and prod him, he finds himself growing a bit more... in a state of primal agitation? A bit more aggressive? A bit more... violent? Whatever the case, Melek turns and faces the woman directly once more, his cigarette dangling from scarred and ravaged lips that appear as though someone had taken a good majority of the flesh and simply ripped it away to leave furrows that lanced through the twin tiers that might have been nice and full by anyone's standards under normal circumstances.

A slow grin pulls at those lips, the entire expression somehow taking on the aspect of a sardonic smirk that may turn into a grimace or snarl at any moment on his tattered countenance.

"Ah ain' shy," he says in the voice of cold steel scraping over a rough-cut oilstone. "Ah jus' don' giv'uh'fuk 'bou' talkin' a' ya. Leave." To the point. Simple. Malek's own Wild Turkey 101 in a pint bottle that fits nicely into the cargo pocket of his dark-colored pants is pulled out, opened, and a long, three glug drink is taken with no hint of grimace or flinch at the heady, burning flavor.
Malek 12/06/18 There isn't even the hint of a pause as Malek continues to stride away, the dangerous slouch leading to a hint of a rolled-shoulder slouch that denotes a readiness to spring forward at any point in time. It is an indication of his personality, to be sure. He will launch himself headlong at any threat, at any time without retreat being much of an option. He is geared to face-charge anything and everything that seems to be a threat.

No glance is spared backward as Malek lights his own cigarette. No attention is spared directly to the girl. It's not that he is shy. It is that he simply cannot fathom a reason that he wants to talk to her.
Malek 12/06/18 Turns as the scent of fresh blood invades his nostrils, large shoulders hunching ever so slightly in a dangerous slouch that indicates a readiness for action at any moment in time. A look of absent, distant anger wars with the gaze of feral aggression as he stares onward at the creature before him.

Scarred visage goes through its myriad change of emotions and decisions flash through his bright yellow-green eyes. Finally the assessment is made: she is not threat. Unimportant. He turns and walks away.
Valentin Metzger 11/20/18 I have not had the pleasure.. no.
-studies- Ja on Fridays.. and on Wednesdays I do goth drag at the local club. Corset, tutu, combat boots.
-circle snaps in her face, sashays away-
Jewel Valari 11/20/18 Had to make sure, thought it could have easily been some trick question. Will accept the genuine comment and reciprocate. "Thank you. You do brunettes very well yourself. It makes you intimidating." Which is why she had even questioned the woman's motives to begin with. "I'm Jewel and you are?"
Jewel Valari 11/20/18 -blinks, staring back-
"Yes.. is that all you wonder?"
Valentin Metzger 11/14/18 -cants head- Do they sell guns in grocery stores where you are from? You must be from the States..
-appraises- I do not use firearms.. nor do I have any on my person.
-shrugs- I may look 'shady' to you.. it does not mean I am.
Valentin Metzger 11/14/18 -stops, cants head- What is a 'hit' list?
-looks to his notepad, the many names and smiles- It is a grocery list.
-nods- You reminded me of something I needed to pick up from the market.
Valentin Metzger 11/14/18 -arches a brow-
-pulls a small ledger from a coat pocket-
-adds the woman to a growing list-
-gives a nod-
-continues on his way-
EtaineNightBreed 07/20/18 Welcome to the Realm and to the Basement!
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