Topher Brink (
brink) wrote in
applesaucedream2014-02-01 02:48 am
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Entry tags:
- character: daine sarrasri,
- character: gabriel,
- character: johnny truant,
- character: peeta mellark,
- character: spike,
- character: sunshine,
- dropped: aglet bottlerack,
- dropped: aiden,
- dropped: almondine,
- dropped: andrew noble,
- dropped: cecil palmer,
- dropped: croach the tracker,
- dropped: edgar sawtelle,
- dropped: gus fring,
- dropped: jennifer strange,
- dropped: jodie holmes,
- dropped: lucy saxon,
- dropped: seth,
- dropped: the doctor (10),
- dropped: the tardis,
- dropped: topher brink,
- dropped: zagreus,
- party post,
- retired: peter vincent,
- retired: yuri kostoglodov
Hijacked dream party
Tonight's dream party is, unconventionally enough, not organised by the rift, but by Topher!
Thing is, he was sort of supposed to only pull in a few very specific, targeted people, and all of a sudden, this whole lot comes pouring in. See, he's working with someone with the power of ability amplification, making Topher's dream abilities obscenely powerful for tonight, and he's not quite used to it.
The dreamers will find themselves in an old mansion at nighttime. Lots and lots of rooms; several bedrooms and bathrooms of various sizes, studies, library, sitting rooms, kitchen, dining rooms, games/billiards room, even secret passageways... There's a fire roaring in every grate, everything is warmly lit, with lots of dark corners to sneak off to, comfortable couches, plenty of drinks tables. There's also a pervasive feeling that you're safe, that you can relax. That whispered secrets in the dark will be kept. And everyone will feel much less compelled to judge or mock upon hearing those secrets. A night for confessions. All of a sudden, it's hard to resist opening up...
Of course, the dreamers don't know there's someone listening in, seeing everything that goes on, sometimes even manipulating things to go the way he wants. Certain people with psychic/telepathic/dream abilities may eventually cotton on, though. But it'll take a while. But the secrets you tell in the meantime may not remain secrets for that long. Especially if those secrets are useful to certain other important players in the city, quite apart from the two factions our rifties have become familiar with.
[Mod note: Usual dream party rules apply. All players and characters are welcome, current members or no. Characters will remember or forget all dream events at players' discretion. Bear in mind that any events or information shared in this dream will be available to Topher, and, by extension, probably his bosses, such as Beatrice.]
Thing is, he was sort of supposed to only pull in a few very specific, targeted people, and all of a sudden, this whole lot comes pouring in. See, he's working with someone with the power of ability amplification, making Topher's dream abilities obscenely powerful for tonight, and he's not quite used to it.
The dreamers will find themselves in an old mansion at nighttime. Lots and lots of rooms; several bedrooms and bathrooms of various sizes, studies, library, sitting rooms, kitchen, dining rooms, games/billiards room, even secret passageways... There's a fire roaring in every grate, everything is warmly lit, with lots of dark corners to sneak off to, comfortable couches, plenty of drinks tables. There's also a pervasive feeling that you're safe, that you can relax. That whispered secrets in the dark will be kept. And everyone will feel much less compelled to judge or mock upon hearing those secrets. A night for confessions. All of a sudden, it's hard to resist opening up...
Of course, the dreamers don't know there's someone listening in, seeing everything that goes on, sometimes even manipulating things to go the way he wants. Certain people with psychic/telepathic/dream abilities may eventually cotton on, though. But it'll take a while. But the secrets you tell in the meantime may not remain secrets for that long. Especially if those secrets are useful to certain other important players in the city, quite apart from the two factions our rifties have become familiar with.
[Mod note: Usual dream party rules apply. All players and characters are welcome, current members or no. Characters will remember or forget all dream events at players' discretion. Bear in mind that any events or information shared in this dream will be available to Topher, and, by extension, probably his bosses, such as Beatrice.]
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She really doesn't need another carthaginian vampire in her life. As if one isn't enough.
But Con's not here.
Sunshine huffs down at the butcher block, then lifts her head to look at Spike. Fine. If he wants her to make him something, she will… give him the opportunity to earn it. Maybe he'll even make her life easier by refusing. She makes a pointed gesture toward the sink. "These dishes aren't going to do themselves."
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"Do them yourself," he grumbles, then heads to the sink to do them anyway. Running away isn't going to get him anything here, but that doesn't mean he can't be a little grumpy about staying. "I was thinking 'earning it' would involve oral sex. But sure, dishes."
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As if she needs another reminder that he's Not Con.Well, she's not completely thrilled that Spike has decided to stick around, but the dual pleasures of getting to experiment with a new dish and having someone else take care of the clean-up have improved her mood. Ignoring his grumbling, she goes about greasing a little pan, collecting ingredients from the pantry, and setting a clean saucepan on the stove.
Once Sunshine's focus shifts to the fudge, Spike might as well not even be in the room; she's good at tuning out the extraneous noise of his dishwashing. She mixes the various ingredients in the saucepan, going more by sight, smell and feel than by any real mental recipe. The chocolate, milk and honey are easy; it's getting the balance of cinnamon and pepper right that's tricky, because she has to force herself to go overboard instead of stopping when her instincts tell her to.
She gives the pan's contents a stir, a little frown of concentration on her face. It's far stronger than she'd like, which means it should be okay for him. She could just pour it out now, let it set, and be done with it. But her sense of professionalism overrides her latent exasperation with Spike, and she absently says, "Hey, come try this."
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He's rinsing out a mixing bowl when she calls him over. That finished, he dries his hands on a dishtowel and makes his way over to peer into the concoction she's got going. "It smells good. What's in it?"
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And hey, he can taste this. Like, actually taste it. The milk and honey might be a miss, but the rest of the ingredients are definitely noticeable. He raises his eyebrows at Sunshine as he pulls the spoon from his mouth. "Not bad at all." By which he means it's very good and he'll take a dozen, please.
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If he mentioned the milk and honey, it wouldn't surprise her. They're just there to take the edge off the bitterness of the chocolate; he'd probably notice it in a bad way if they were absent, but she doesn't expect him to taste their presence beneath all the spices. Anyway, that doesn't matter. What matters is that he likes it.
It shouldn't feel like a victory. It should feel like an unwelcome complication regarding the resident vampire lite, because you can only muster so much ire for an asshole who also likes your food. But for the moment: victory. Must be the mood manipulation that's going around.
"Okay," she says, turning off the heat and grabbing a spatula. "Now it just has to set for a little while." She scrapes the saucepan's contents into the little pan she set aside earlier, then hands saucepan and spatula to Spike. Hey, the washing up is still his job… but on the plus side, now he can lick the spatula. The little pan of spicy fudge gets transferred to the fridge. She's going to have to come up with a name for this stuff, isn't she? Too bad Aimel isn't here; she was always best at food puns.
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He dries off the mixing bowl he'd nearly finished with before, then moves to the one she just handed him. "Might be a new market I'm helping you break into," he muses, "vampire fudge." He snorts a laugh, and glances over his shoulder, an eyebrow raised. "Chocolate with bite. There's your slogan."
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He shrugs and turns back to his washing, "Don't know. They made it seem like there's a population, but I haven't seen it. Might be because I've been sleeping at the wrong time to meet 'em."
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Well, at least she has wards. Compared to the other poor unwarded people here, she's probably more trouble than she's worth.
Ingredients put away, she moves over to the sink to help dry. At this point, that's really the only chore that needs doing. "You really haven't seen any?" she asks, glancing up at him. "Vampires usually run in gangs, back home."
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"Don't think you want to try selling fudge to a vampire gang. Maybe the ones under the Rebel roof. Less likely to sink their teeth into you." They are supposed to all be off human blood, if they're getting assistance from the rebels. He doesn't completely believe that, but it's got to be better odds than with the ones who aren't trying at all.
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"You deal with vampire gangs a lot, then? Real vampire gangs," he adds, stressing the term because apparently all of her vampires are more bad ass than he is. "Are you some sort of Slayer?"
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And yeah, she's definitely emphasizing 'SOF' a bit. It's their job to handle vampires and other rogue Others, and maybe they're desperate to put her on the payroll, but she hasn't agreed to anything, yet. She's not a carthaginian professional vampire hunter.
"I dealt with one gang," she says, and some part of her is distantly aware that she's telling him more than she has to. Well, he did ask, and this isn't exactly a state secret - not even back home, where people actually appreciate the significance of it all. "Once. And it sure as hell wasn't because I wanted to." So if he's hoping for someone to lead into battle against the misbehaving vampires, he's just going to have to keep looking.
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"No broadswords." He pauses for a moments, remembering a few times when there had been broadswords. "Usually."
"Most humans don't know about vampires and demons and all that. So it's just the slayer and people like me." He hands over the last dish to dry and turns around to lean against the counter, drying his hands on a dish towel. "There was a sort of...organization once, of humans, but that didn't turn out very well." To say the least. Even before the whole thing fell apart, he wasn't big on their tactics. Mostly because it involved shoving a chip in his head that prevented him from hurting humans. Thank god that's gone.
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Which isn't to say a broadsword couldn't also be used, but it would have to be iron - that's the only material besides wood that really gets through the weird energy barrier suckers have going on - and that would be impractical as all hell. Well, okay, any old broadsword would probably work if she was wielding it, but that's beside the point. If she joined SOF, she wouldn't be armed with some medieval monstrosity, and she's not joining SOF, so whatever. Moot point.
She gives her head a little shake as she finishes drying the last dish. "Back home, everyone knows about them. They might not have a lot of practical information, but vampires aren't a secret - and pretty much everyone knows at least one demon cross." That is, everyone has at least one demon cross in their circle of friends, acquaintances, and coworkers that they know of. Partbloods don't exactly shout their condition from the rooftops, though, so really, any given person probably has at least a dozen demon crosses on their solstice card list.
"Demon crosses aren't really a problem, though," she adds as she rehomes a few dishes in a cabinet built into the island. "It's the vampires that are probably going to be running the show in a century or two."
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He glimpses toward the fridge, wondering just how long this is going to take. He washed dishes for that chocolate, after all. It'd be a shame if he woke up before he got to try it.
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And yes, Spike, she hasn't forgotten the vampire fudge. It hasn't really been in there for long enough to set, yet, but she wanders over to the fridge, anyway. "Generally speaking," she continues, "it takes a lot more to start giving people... personality problems." Like a penchant for collecting human organs, which... yuck. "But that's why SOF keeps tabs. If you're a partblood, you get registered."
She opens up the fridge and gives the little pan of fudge an assessing look. Maybe it's because it's a smaller dish than the last few, but it seems to be done - or close enough (how hard did she really want to try for this vampire, again?). She pulls it out and runs her fingertips along the bottom for a temperature check, then carries it back over to the island.