December Catchall!

[pummelgranite]

WHO: Persephone + assorted
WHERE: Mostly Maurtia, also sometimes under ground
WHEN: December
WHAT: basically anything besides christmas
WARNINGS: drug use, depression, disordered eating



((OOC: will be putting up toplevels as needed, if you have something you wanna do, please feel free to ping me!))

Comments

[pummelgranite]

[ Two morningstars and a destroyer walk into a club. And, after a very successful debut, get routed to the VIP booth. There was a little business to discuss. Vendors to vet, designers' portfolios to paw through. But mostly they had come to get shitfaced and laid.

Which is why Persephone is stumbling back from the ladies room with a girl she certainly didn't leave with- a dapper little twig of a person with a short feathery halo of platinum hair (and just enough roots). Did Persephone forget that Lucifer was literally at the table and picked up another one on the way back? That seems to be the case. ]


Hhey. This is- uhm- Mariiii-


[ "Meredith?" she adds, or suggests, clearly a bit out of her depth. ]


Meredith. Yeah, this is Meredith.

[purple_reign]

Merri! [Inanna slouches forward across the table to offer her a handshake. Of course he would be a friendly sort of drunk. And, at some point between Persephone leaving the table and coming back, he's decided the starry-eyed look is much better for a night out. The morning and evening stars shine brightly in his gaze, only made slightly less intimidating with the brightness of his smile.]

I'm Inanna. And you...ooou... Are you gonna sit with us?

[pummelgranite]

[ Persephone is twirling the girl's hair through her fingers gently. She seems unsure. ]

You should. You will, yeah?


[ Meredith looks over and Luci and looks VERY unsure ]

[purple_reign]

[Inanna, ever helpful, scoots over in the booth to make room for the newcomer.]

I promise we don't bite. ...I mean. Not n'less you want us to.

[pummelgranite]

Then we all bite.

[ She says, directly into the girls neck. ]

CLOSED- Inanna & Jason Todd

[pummelgranite]

[ So here is the scene: it is on top of one of the few actually tall buildings in downtown Maurtia. The street lights and noise are far bellow, leaving the roof unlit and quiet. But the moon is bright, and the night is clear enough that the moonlight looks like a dusting of snow. The cold autumn air is still. The whole scene is almost like a held breath-


That is, of course, until a curtain of purple sparkles begins raining down, and a couple of well dressed assholes stumble out. Asshole #1 is clutching a bottle of SoCo and swaying a bit as she looks around. ]

This one? This one up here? N yer ssure.

[purple_reign]

[Asshole #2 is busy squinting around the rooftop and up at the sky as if trying to get his bearings.] It's...ss. Yes?

[He pauses, frowns, and blinks to replace his eyes with stars—better vision this way. But not better memory. He stumbles where he stands and turns to frown in confusion at Persephone.] What was I lookin' for?

[batstard]

[You were looking for this asshole, remember. Probably you got a description something like "scowly asshole with a white streak in his hair, has never skipped leg day in his fucking life, likes to wear leather jackets." This guy is wearing leather and could definitely crush someone's skull with his thighs, but his shitty death hair is currently under what looks like an opaque motorcycle helmet, painted in bright red, the faint glow of night vision lenses the only indication of a face under the mask.

He's also crouched near the edge of the roof, a bag of gear next to him, a sniper rifle in his hands, aimed somewhere below. For about a millisecond, anyway. He's up before your feet touch the ground, pistol in one hand, pointed at Inanna -- don't ask why he chose him as the target -- looking entirely ready to jump right of the roof if need be.]

Wrong roof, asshole. This one's taken.

[pummelgranite]

What, nooo.


[ She seems just super unworried about the gun, but does squint a bit at him. ]


Nnoh. No helmets. Oh my god. That is a. That's a bad look. Mask was cool. Do mask.

[purple_reign]

[Inanna's squinting at the gun the same way one might squint at an exceptionally yappy small dog.]

's he think that's really....it's gonna work??

hangover breakfast; (open to hell family) (but family is a loose term??)

[heckblazer]

[ Unless there was a gun to his head (either a figurative or real one would do), John wouldn't admit to giving a shit about the girl he managed, or her posse.

For once in his life, he had declined going out for drinks with someone. Nothing against Persephone, he was as fond of her as ever, but being around that many young types, gods or no, made him feel acutely out of place. Plus, she'd brought bloody frigging Lucifer with her.

Not that it stopped them all from showing up on his doorstep last night, each of them fall-down drunk at an ungodly hour. He'd only chuckled, and ushered them onto couches, chairs and piles of cushions so they could pass out comfortably, then proceeded to not sleep a wink himself. Be damned if his flatmates complained.

The sun starts creeping up over the horizon in a dark, bruised orange glow when he finally decides "fuck it" and saunters to the kitchen. There is exactly one meal that John knows how to make with any competence, and there's at least enough company at the present moment to do it.

When the damned ankle-biters wake up, it will be to the scents of bacon and eggs sizzling in a pan, toast warming, black tea steeping, and beans cooking on the stove. John has his back to the opening of the door, chopping a tomato and humming something to himself. ]

God save th-- ow. [ He momentarily abandons his task to attend to where he's nicked his thumb with the knife, running it under the sink. ]

[pummelgranite]

[ Well, here from this side of the couch, a shimmering bramble of hair slowly rises. and then. looks. at who's kitchen this is. ]


Oooooooh . . . no . . . nno.

[heckblazer]

[ In a surprisingly fluid motion, he saunters over, putting a plateful of English Breakfast on the coffee table in front of her. ]

Damn, yer' only at "oh no" hungover? Coulda sworn it'd be at least "kill me" levels.

[ Oh, John will have to try very hard to not enjoy this. ]

[pummelgranite]

[ INTERNAL SCREAMING DUE TO CLEARLY HAVING HAD AN ORGY WITH HER MANAGER? JESUS. She really is doing her absolute best to fuck everything up but somehow the thought of this churns her stomach. Whelp, play it cool.

The headache, yeah. She goes ahead and plays up the pain to hide the discomfort. ]


Uh huh. Y'have coffee?


[ She is a bad child ]

[purple_reign]

[What kind of fucked up world lets divine beings get hangovers? Who made these rules and how can they be punished? Inhumane is what this is. All these thoughts and more flit through Inanna's head while he squints against the bright light of morning and finally just covers his eyes with a whiny groan.]

This isn't the hotel... Where's this?

[heckblazer]

[ Leaning on the kitchen doorframe, John clears this throat a touch overdramatically. ]


You lot teleported on my bloody doorstep in one'a yer' glitter clouds n' each of you was piss drunk. Any more questions, mate?

[purple_reign]

[Inanna grumbles softly and lifts his hand just long enough to squint at John. Okay, good. One of Persephone's friends.]

Well. Thanks for letting us in.

And now...you're making us breakfast?

PRIVATE FOR REGGIE ;) ;) ;)

[pummelgranite]

[ So the guy is probably sitting eagerly waiting to get text back. What he is probably not expecting was a knock on his window, only a few minutes later. ]

haha then what ;)

[mantlepieces]

[ Oh he most certainly is, pacing his room a bit restlessly if not straight up impatiently-- but even though Persephone is totally not the person he thought he was sending those texts to, he's far from unhappy to see her when he goes over to his window.

He pries it open, looking almost deliriously delighted. ]

Oh my God.

Is this real? Are you really... [ Reggie's eyes are wide, staring at her in awe. ] I can't believe you're here.

[pummelgranite]

[ Reggie. Of course. She should have realized. Well, she hadn't noticed him for his unwavering propriety.

She tucks and rolls through the window, in an appropriately smooth motion. When she stands up she begins stalking towards him. And not in a cool, sexy way but kind of more in a dangerous predator way. ]

Jumper. You just don't know when to quit, do you?

[mantlepieces]

[ Reggie takes a step back, his expression still more reverent than wary like it probably should be. He used to be a lot more cautious, but a lot has changed for Reggie since he first got here.

Even at his most paranoid he still has his blind spots, but those have become increasingly deliberate; it's better to invite the pain than be surprised by it.

So, he just shakes his head. ]

No.

[ He doesn't have to know specifically what she's referring to in order to feel like he gets what she means; it's Persephone, after all, and she gets him. It'll become clear soon enough, surely. Still, he does take another step back. ]

You know what they say about quitters... nothing good ever happens for them.

Private for Batman

[pummelgranite]

[ It hits, honestly, in the stupidest fucking way possible. Just the stupidest. All she'd wanted was a little time alone under the heavens. Some time to look at the stars without one of them sitting right next to her. So she'd found a nice roof with no garden or any other reason to have company, and brought a fresh pack of cigarettes and her music collection with her.

The billboard had read "LUCKILY REDISCOVERED" and a picture of a woman in white. But seen from the right angle, and blocked by a few other features of the city-scape, the woman appeared headless, and the text read "LUCI IS OVER" which is honestly nonsense, and really absolutely no good reason to lose her shit. Unfortunately, anxiety disorders really just don't care about reason.

Her gut clenches suddenly, and that's the only warning she gets before the darkness around her is stained red, and her face is covered in something sticky and reeking, and she can hear her own voice screaming even if she's really pretty sure she's not. ]

Oh for fuck's . . . f-fucking . . . khh-

[ As the imaginary screams become simple tinnitus, her sense of balance goes out, and there's really nothing to do but let herself slide to her knees, and then the ground. She counts her breaths, reminds herself where she is, employs all the tricks she's learned for riding the damn thing out. Whatever. ]

[the_caped_crusader]

[It's been a long night of patrolling for him already, taking down a drug supplier alone down along the coast that took him outside of the city for most of the evening. If more of his family were here, they would have probably suggested some sort of backup, but with only Dick here... well, that left him to pick up a lot of slack. So, by the time he's back, he's already exhausted, hungry, and with his own fair share of injuries, but he still feels compelled to make a cursory run to see that the streets are clear.

What he's not expecting to run into is her, but that's really been the nature of their relationship thus far, hasn't it? He's slow in his approach as he assesses the situation, especially considering what she's actually capable of, and takes a knee, giving her some distance.]

[pummelgranite]

[ She's pushed herself into a corner, between the outer wall and some kind of maintenance station. Her whole body is shaking, and her face is in her hands. Like the night of the concert, her breath is in a careful meter- except for when it falters back into harsh, shallow gasps. Mostly, mostly it stays in meter. Whatever it is that alerts her to his presence, all she does is splay the fingers of one hand enough to peer out at him with an impossibly bright green green eye.

Oh boy. O h b o y. Honestly, a witness to this completely unnecessary breakdown is about the last thing she wants. But if it has to be someone, at least it's him. She closes her eye again, and takes a couple more breaths. Her voice doesn't come out anywhere near as steady as she'd like, but there's no venom in it either. ]


Occupied.

[the_caped_crusader]

I can tell. We really have to stop meeting like this.

[His tone is gentle, if not slightly sarcastic. He doesn't want to bring attention to the attack, but rather distract from it. He wipes at a bit of blood at his lip.]

If I had known, I might have brought a guitar with me.