John Constantine (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
heckblazer) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
maskormenacelogs2017-04-02 01:37 am
heckblazer) wrote in maskormenacelogs2017-04-02 01:37 am
didn't know there was anything in the world to be frightened of; {OPEN}
WHO: John Constantine, You, Other People
WHERE: Various locations in prompts!
WHEN: Early April
WHAT: John trolling around town
WARNINGS: Depression, substance abuse, swear words, will tag others as needed
I - Heropa - your friendly neighborhood occult con artist
[ Weird thing about old folks is how gladly they part with their money.
Half an hour ago, John was contenting himself to sit in a park and waste the hours chainsmoking and translating a grimoire from Aramaic. Until he got accosted by a sorrowful-looking gentleman in a cashmere sweater and pressed pants, droning on about missing his late wife and imploring John's gifts. He sighed, reminding himself how small this stupid little world was that a stranger could know his reputation. However, since alcohol and food tended to cost money, he goes along with it.
He made a show out of collecting leaves, burning them with his cigarette while the old man clutched his hand, all the while John comes up with nonsense that sounds vaguely like a spell. ]
Siht si a daol fo tihsllub i edam pu ouy evah on aedi tahw m'i gniyas od uoy ssabmud. Right, mate, check back in twenty-four hours. Sometimes the other side is a little slow on the uptake.
II - Maurtia Falls - John's typical brooding and boozing
[ Having done exactly one productive, functional thing today, John sits his ass down at the bar at Hotel Castille and helps himself to some vodka shots. He came by town to check in with the usual local lads who did tech crew for the shows he managed. Although the hotel was a venue that gave even the tougher men amongst them the shudders, they were easy enough to talk into the gig with a combination of John's charm, a cut of the profits, and by showing off some of Zatanna's headshots. Saps couldn't resist the idea of a pretty girl doing an old-fashioned magic show. And besides, a little bit of taking on gigs from Constantine meant they could get a job anywhere they wanted within another year or so.
With business out of the way, he plops down on the same barstool he occupied on Christmas Eve, choosing the same vodka he'd enjoyed with Dorian from that night. Is he trying to cleanse his angst that his mate is gone, having died horribly? Or is he trying to wallow in it again? Given that it is John, probably both.
Fancy a drink and keeping this sadsack company? ]
III - de Chima - getting lost in town because he needs to get the hell away from his assigned house sometimes
[ This city isn't really his favorite place, but he'll visit for the sake of others in the little imPort crowd that he happens to actually like. John is sure he'll remember which ones soon enough, or what he came through the bloody porter for in the first place anyway. Could it be that age is creeping up on him, all the booze and drugs taking their toll and reminding him that he is, like it or not, a mortal man?
Sure, not that he'd admit it.
He doesn't realize it at first, but he keeps wandering down residential streets, eyeballing the facades of homes, both imPort-assigned and locals. It starts as avoiding anywhere that employs anyone he's close to - lord knows he doesn't need the headache of being followed and questioned by more curious locals. When he catches himself at his little househunting game half an hour later, at least he realizes what he's doing. ]
Oi. Maybe it's time I got the hell outta Florida.
WHERE: Various locations in prompts!
WHEN: Early April
WHAT: John trolling around town
WARNINGS: Depression, substance abuse, swear words, will tag others as needed
I - Heropa - your friendly neighborhood occult con artist
[ Weird thing about old folks is how gladly they part with their money.
Half an hour ago, John was contenting himself to sit in a park and waste the hours chainsmoking and translating a grimoire from Aramaic. Until he got accosted by a sorrowful-looking gentleman in a cashmere sweater and pressed pants, droning on about missing his late wife and imploring John's gifts. He sighed, reminding himself how small this stupid little world was that a stranger could know his reputation. However, since alcohol and food tended to cost money, he goes along with it.
He made a show out of collecting leaves, burning them with his cigarette while the old man clutched his hand, all the while John comes up with nonsense that sounds vaguely like a spell. ]
Siht si a daol fo tihsllub i edam pu ouy evah on aedi tahw m'i gniyas od uoy ssabmud. Right, mate, check back in twenty-four hours. Sometimes the other side is a little slow on the uptake.
II - Maurtia Falls - John's typical brooding and boozing
[ Having done exactly one productive, functional thing today, John sits his ass down at the bar at Hotel Castille and helps himself to some vodka shots. He came by town to check in with the usual local lads who did tech crew for the shows he managed. Although the hotel was a venue that gave even the tougher men amongst them the shudders, they were easy enough to talk into the gig with a combination of John's charm, a cut of the profits, and by showing off some of Zatanna's headshots. Saps couldn't resist the idea of a pretty girl doing an old-fashioned magic show. And besides, a little bit of taking on gigs from Constantine meant they could get a job anywhere they wanted within another year or so.
With business out of the way, he plops down on the same barstool he occupied on Christmas Eve, choosing the same vodka he'd enjoyed with Dorian from that night. Is he trying to cleanse his angst that his mate is gone, having died horribly? Or is he trying to wallow in it again? Given that it is John, probably both.
Fancy a drink and keeping this sadsack company? ]
III - de Chima - getting lost in town because he needs to get the hell away from his assigned house sometimes
[ This city isn't really his favorite place, but he'll visit for the sake of others in the little imPort crowd that he happens to actually like. John is sure he'll remember which ones soon enough, or what he came through the bloody porter for in the first place anyway. Could it be that age is creeping up on him, all the booze and drugs taking their toll and reminding him that he is, like it or not, a mortal man?
Sure, not that he'd admit it.
He doesn't realize it at first, but he keeps wandering down residential streets, eyeballing the facades of homes, both imPort-assigned and locals. It starts as avoiding anywhere that employs anyone he's close to - lord knows he doesn't need the headache of being followed and questioned by more curious locals. When he catches himself at his little househunting game half an hour later, at least he realizes what he's doing. ]
Oi. Maybe it's time I got the hell outta Florida.
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