Blue Scorpion (relevant time-scale rp)

[FallingToFly]

((For those who may be interested: Blue Scorpion offers a welcome.

The main rp takes place in a modern club, in a modern city... with a twist. Blue Scorpion is a nexus, for those who feel limited by their time and space regulations. Know the right person, speak the right words; and a door will open. A door to where you need or want to be. These doors open from either side, with the right key. Past to present, present to past.. change your mind and change your life.

Warning: This game may contain graphic language, sex, violence, drug and/or alcohol abuse and twisted themes. Do NOT participate if you are unable to handle things, in character and out, such as this with the maturity they require.

If you're interested in joining this roleplay in areas other than Literotica, PM me. You can find the schematic layout of the club and further information here. ))

Shade sat behind the bar, arms crossed on the polished wood, staring into her bourbon. Her eyes, the same color as the liquor, lifted enough to scan the room, then dropped back to her drink. It was slow, this early in the day, with most of their clientele preferring to slip in after night had fallen, and she was bored.

She'd only been tending bar a few weeks, waiting on her new mentor to decide what to do with her. She adjusted the volume of the music playing through the club, H.I.M's "Circle of Fear" filtering through the dim recesses of the enormous lower floor. When no one was around, she could listen to what she liked. Her fingers skated over the staff leaning against the ice bins, the smoky quartz with its etched heartagram glowing softly inside the iron ball cage at her touch. Asshole was nowhere in sight, she had good liquor, good music, and time to relax... shaking back her heavy copper hair, she sighed.

She was still bored.

Name: Shade to her friends. Otherwise, she answers to "Hey, bartender."
Age: Unknown
Race: Daoine Sidhe
Alignment: Chaotic Neutral
Appearance: 5'8, 126, copper-red hair, eyes shift between amber, gold, and copper. Pretty, not sensationally so, but enough. Clothing varies depending on mood, the one constant is her blackthorn staff topped with a heartagram carved ball of smoky quartz inside an iron ball cage.
Demeanor: Young, rebellious, impulsive. Very formal with strangers, manipulative, irreverant and flippant with those she feels even marginally comfortable with.
Addictions: Nicotine, H.I.M, unable to resist the oppurtunity to irritate TokyoVogue (aka, Asshole).
Residence: Blue Scorpion.

 

[inaway]

enter Inaway...

Name: Inaway

Age: do you really have to know it right this second? Her take on that subject is: “give me all your credit card and bank numbers…plus the passwords and then we‘ll talk…”

Race: made PSI/Scanner

Alignment: Neutral…with a quirk.

Appearance: 5', 105, with skin that tans a little too easy. Long very dark auburn hair, subtily shaped about her face with a hint of bangs as well, the ends that are naturally rounded and where about 2 inches from the tips sometimes they go purple, blue or even a whore red in color (depending on the “dye of the day“…today it is lemon yellow…who knows, what tomorrow will bring). And when pulled back into a fierce ponytail, the ends make a prefect tear drop of color on the back drop of the auburn. Her eyes are that light, yet still a very rich, milk chocolate brown in color that you could get lost in if you're not careful…and they are always looking deep into the eyes of the person within her sights...sometimes seeing more than the someone would want them to. Very pleasant to look at, and definitely not someone you would kick out of bed whether for her looks or for other...things. Always dressed for the situation or occasion, whether she be in just a long shirt…and nothing else. A fitted vest or flowing duster, a short skirt or clinging dress, or dangerously tight jeans or leathers, they always tend to lean towards all the shades of black (you know those…blackish, black, blacker...and of course along with all the different blacks in between…). Sometimes very minimal in her manner, yet always there is that touch of very understated “bling”: a slight, silver looking metal chain about her neck with a tiny key lock at the back and a moon locket dangling from just below her neckline. A chain short enough that it couldn’t be removed by pulling it over her head. Delicate looking yet, made from a metal so strong that nothing can ever remove it…nothing except for it’s exact key that has been long gone lost (hmmm…or was it stolen?)…and the locket will know it’s owner. No piercing, and the only mark being a very ornate tattoo of a band circling her left hand ring finger done in black work with touches of sliver and a diamond embedded in it and as well as her skin..

Demeanor: Someone who is never out front or even in the foreground (cause that would be the first place “They” would look). She really doesn’t need to blend either, it just happens. She can walk right up to you whether it is to your back or face, and know what you are thinking (now ain’t that a bitch). With one of those face that will catch the corner of your eye and make you think about approaching her, but then again, there is something about her as well, that will also make you think twice…but believe me, the moment you have really seen her, you’ll never forget her.
Addictions: Caffeine, DePeche Mode and skin (take that anyway you like).
Weaknesses: one person…(and you don’t think I would let that secret out would you?

Residence: where the inner guides tell her to dwell…but if you really want her, you can probably find her sitting at her stool in the left hand corner at the end of the bar of the Blue Scorpion.


**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**

Noticing that it was Shade who was tending, Inaway makes her way to the left far end of the bar (her lucky side). Not in anyway trying to either make herself known or even blend…all she wanted was a drink. In much desperate need of a nice, smooth, comforting drink. It’s a hard life, this life of just “being“…and trying with all her might not to get into the thick of it. It’s not like she is afraid to, but more like confused of the outcomes…not ever really knowing who is good or bad…who is friend or foe. She‘s been bad about those type of decisions for the past few years now…seems no matter what, sometimes anyone can switch on you, leaving you looking like a grouper…and feeling just as bright. Now sitting in what has become “her stool”, she leans it back a bit and absentmindly taps a long finger with a minimal though, very neatly honed nail attached...the one with the band that she barely remembers how it came about. That event was all such a blurr. To have felt someone in her mind that time...it felt...odd. For once, she had become the subject in the inner-science of mind over mind. He had been the one to have found her weakness, one tucked away so very deep. The last thing she remembered was the feeling of a swoon, and then the strange feeling of awaking from a very deep sleep...and there it was...the ring.

Inaway felt herself slipping back and caught herself, this mercifully breaking her from this reoccuring trip down "memory lane". Not really knowing what to make of it...or how to feel afterwards. Was it suppose to feel bad, or good...or maybe it was suppose to feel as jumbled as it did. Who knows...

After righting herself, Inaway decided that her thirst was getting the better of her and that she needed to rectify it now:

“Hey…bartender!” she says with a bit of tongue and cheek trying not to sound like all the other generic assholes that Shade must encounter. Knowing that it would get Shades attention faster than just saying her name (which would more likely get me ignored and right now the last thing I needed was to get ignored)...and then cupping her hands together as she noticed Shades attention now turned to her:

“Can I get a nice round brandy glass?“ saying that with a slight smile going on to be more cheeky and adding, “oh...and some Boles blackberry would be a nice touch as well…and don’t forget the watered ice…pleeeeeaaaaassssse?” turning her head to the side and smiling big…the demeanor now had become a bit cheesy towards the end. But she knew that Shade would take it all in stride…but, just to make sure (because no one could ever judge Shades demeanor from moment to moment...), Inaway slides a $50 onto the bar top to make sure that Shade knew she was dead on serious

Leaning back again so that the back of the legs of the stool just teeter, she still can touch her back to the wall with the toe of her semi dusty black boot just curled under the bar of the bottom brass rail, she had once again become so deep in thought that it might look like she was contemplating her naval. It might as well have been…she was contemplating her personal decisions and they both tend to have lint. She had decided a ways back to put any possibility of entanglements on the back burner. At the time there were actually too many that it was almost making her crazy. Now it was time to think about making good decisions…that is if there was such a thing. She had made a BIG mistake and had done a bit of an enquiring on her own…and got information that she really didn’t want to hear. The one person who she had put all her stock in had bottomed out. And now there was not just a part of her heart missing...but a marked crack in her soul. Having heard all of this second party information was play on her mind. What was what? Who was who? Did the person that i had trusted for the information have their own agenda? Everything was now so muddled, and about as clear as the mudslide that the guy 3 stools down from her at the bar was drinking. Upon hearing the clink of ice cubes coming towards her, it gave the signal that some sort of much needed relief was imminent…so she righted herself and watched as Shade came towards her...

 

[FallingToFly]

Shade lifted her head again and chuckled, soft and rich. She was used to being called all sorts of things, but the "bartender" thing was anice little novelty still. She flicked a smile at the tiny woman on the other side of the bar as she started assemblig the drink, nimble fingers perhaps a little inexperienced yet, and quite possibly mixing it too strong.

"Here you are," she said, adding a pretty little neon blue twisty straw from the bin under the bar. Da'arke insisted that every drink here be unique, that everything in the bar have a slight twist, so no one would ever mistake them for a "clone" club. Privately, Shade thought Da'arke was carrying the mystery a little too far, but she let it lie. She palmed the fifty and went to the till, counting out the change - drinks weren't -that- expensive here - and returning to Inaway.

"Slow night," she said with a quick smile, handing the change back. She'd seen the woman in before, from a distance, and flicked hr long copper-painted nails in the direction of the hair. "I like the yellow. Gives your eyes a little shimmer."

She left it at that and retrieved the bin of fruits she had to prepare for garnishes from under the bar. She should have already done the slicing and icing routine on this, but she'd been daydreaming. She cut her eyes towards the stairs guiltily, hoping Asshole didn't come down and catch her slacking off. She'd never hear the end of it if he did.

 

[inaway]

"Thanks Shade”, Inaway said with a very sincere voice of gratitude, “you may not know it but, you’ve just become a life saver…oh and also thanks about the color…it's just, I was in that “when life throws you lemons…” mood today”.

Looking at the straw a bit side-ways and chuckling. Yes, it “was” novel…and a bit of change from some of Da'arkes other ideas.

“So Da’arke is now going for what…the “Happy Meal” effect?” she chuckled low, not being able to control the cheek that seemed to always eek it’s way out. “Well you have to admit it’s a step up in the “class” department from the “glow-in-your-mouth” ones that he had tried before”, examining it more, Inaway thinking that maybe he had decided that the bar really didn’t need that “rave” look after all. Continuing to laughing lightly not being able to control herself with the mental picture of what might be next: Da’arke with red/orange hair, big red shoes and clown attire. But she knew he could never pull off the “Have It Your Way” attitude…oh wait…that was that “other” thing. She shook her head to try and uncloud all the intertwined junk food bylines that had somehow invaded her head along with their jingles.

She had been coming into the Blue Scorpion for so long that it had almost become her second home (“almost”? hell…it WAS her second home...maybe her first). She had seen it go though “many” of Da’arkes changes: from an attempt at Medieval décor, to scantly clad triplet, faux blonde girl bartenders, he even tried a “disco” night (ugh)…just to name a subtle few. He should have known better, with Da’arke being Da’arke, this would never be a “clone club”. Now Shade…she had been his best idea yet. He needed a bit of class here…and it sure as hell wasn’t the 3 non-blondes (oh please…no way by any stretch of the imagination could anyone believe that hair could have been real. They may have had the color, but so did she…it’s just she preferred to use it more creatively). Now Shade, on the other hand, added more to the place. I think it's called "realism".

Inaway palmed the brandy and swirled it a bit. She had been working on her new skill level of pyrokinetics (level 2: palm fire) and watched the rich plumbish colored liquid roll and grow warm as she very slowly concentrated on the glass making sure it didn‘t go too hot and melt into a hot molten mass like her first attempt had. She took out the straw so that she could enjoy the brandy the good ol' fashion way: letting it first rest on the lips and rolling it on the tongue…savoring the warm rich taste of the berry in the brandy. MMMMMmmm…blackberry…almost as good as the elusive peach that had now become almost extinct. It would have been a felony to have put it through the twist and turns of the plactic straw, maybe even having it take on the taste of the plastic it's self (what a waste). Now, letting the elixer lull in her mouth before swallowing it down, then taking a small qiuck sip of the ice cold water as a chaser, giving her mouth a interesting shock of gentle warm and then biting cold. One of those nice “shocks” that she had come to enjoy as of recent (another vice to add to the growing number of others).

She watched Shade as she went about her bartending duties. Noticing that Shades eyes gave away what was going on in her head was anything BUT tending bar today. Inaway never liked intruding on the thoughts of people who she saw as friends (or even potential friends), that was saved for those who she wanted information from and they were less than forthcoming. She didn’t want to do this to Shade, she figured that she would do this as well the “old fashion way” and just ask (a novel idea).

“Shade what’s up?” Inaway asked with real interest in her voice, “umm looks like a nice fruit salad you’re making there. Though, I would watch the knife a bit…just making sure that it doesn’t become finger food…literally”, saying the last with a bit of a wince of mocked horror.

 

[FallingToFly]

Laughs, and flips the blade up, catching it neatly before laying it down beside the cutting board.

"Thnking that I'm going to be busted big time if Asshole walks in before I finish doing garnishes." The answer is fairly light, but her wings, cloaked in glamour to render them invisible, as it's rather embarassing to have them hovering behind her like some little disney cartoon character, flick hard and fast once, stirring the air around her in agitation.

"I don't know why da'arke had to go and leave -him- to babysit me," she snorts in agitation. "You'd think that she was worried about me not being able to take care of myself."