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Post by AOIDE HARPER on Jun 2, 2011 1:33:57 GMT 1
 I was five and he was six, we rode on horses made of sticks.
He wore black and I wore white, he would always win the fight.
Edmond's Eyesore Cafe, 11.00am
New York, November 20th 2008
Death was never and will never be an easy subject to deal with. Even those who deal in death every day are still affected by it but as time passes, those work work around death gain a gradual acceptance of the fact and there is no time to grieve for every life that ends and sometimes you just have to get on with it.
The evening before had been another one of those nights, full of pain and despair. Her shift had turned into a blood bath, with several nasty accidents and unfortunately, two deaths which she couldn't have prevented. A message on her beeper when they were at the hospital, just about to finish the shift for the night, called her down to the morgue. With a heavy sigh, she gave in, taking the lift down to the basement. Because morgues were always in the basement. It must have been some unwritten rule somewhere. The pathologist was a young woman, warm blue eyes and mousey brown hair. She smiled weakly to Aoide, apologising profusely for having to ask her down here to give her a hand - she didn't have an assistant yet, too much work to do, not the correct tools. The usual. The two bodies from that evening lay under white sheets. The pathologist handed her a box full of their items and clothes. Amongst their belongings were a set of badges, the letters B.R.P.D adorned on them. Unsure of what they were, and unable to find any contact details for next of kin, she handed it over, hoping the paramedic would be able to find someone who could track them down for her.
Aoide ran her fingers over the badge, tracing the shapes of the letters. Promising to find someone who could help, she bid the pathologist a good night and returned to the surface to head for home. Instead of turning the box over to the police, she kept it. In her apartment that evening, still fumbling with the badge in her hand, she pulled out her iPhone. The information in the items was scarce, but she found a phone number hidden in the wallets of one of the dead men. It was tucked away for safe keeping. The pathologist did not know what the letters on the badge stood for, but the angel did and she was not surprised the number was hidden so carefully away. The organisation were highly secretive, operating out of an unknown location due to the nature of the word. The call was picked up on the other end. Before the could speak, the angel left her message. "I have the belongings of two of your agents, shot dead in New York this evening" he explained. The voice on the other end, she guessed another agent tried to arrange a location for her to return the belongings which they were eager to regain. "New Jersey is too far. I'm much too busy right now to be travelling across state. If you wish you collect your items, you can find me in two days time. Edmond's Eyesore, a cafe off central park. 11.am" she left her message, as firmly as she could without being offensive.
Which brings us to this morning. It was a nice day, not overly warm but the sun was high in the sky, surrounded by white fluffy clouds and a light breeze rustled the trees. She watched them sway to and fro from the window of the bookshop-turned-cafe. Her head rested on her hand while a latte sat on the table in front of he.r. She wore a simple pale blue sun dress while her hair was tied back with a pale blue bow. Over the back of her chair hung a light, navy, trench-style coat and on her feet she wore a simple pair of white pumps. As she swung her foot back and forth gently as she waited, you could hear the light thuds of it hitting the cardboard box in which she kept the dead agent's belongings as she waited for their collection.
ooc. hope it's okay, I was kinda stuck for ideas.
wordcount. didn't count
tags. warren/open
muse. nothing spectacular
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Post by WARREN SORROW on Jun 2, 2011 16:32:21 GMT 1
The door of the cafe swung open and a tall, lanky man strolled in, his eyes closed tightly. He wore a white button up with a brown vest, simple black trousers and a large duffel bag draped over his back. Work boots thumped against the floor as he strolled over to the table with the young woman and plopped into the chair across from her. His arms hung lazily at his sides and his head lulled back as he yawned as widely as his mouth would allow. He reached up to cover his mouth as he closed it then stretched, several joints popping loudly. He smacked his lips softly a few times then finally opened his eyes. He looked at the woman across the table for a moment, blinked a few times, rubbed his eyes, then opened them again. "For a second, you were glowin'." he said simply, his brow furrowing slightly as he tapped the bridge of his nose. "I was supposed to show up here to pick up some belongings from a few friends of mine. You don't know who might be holding those, would ya, Sunshine?" He let out softly with a slight smirk.
(ooc- wow, this is bad. sorry bones.)
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Post by AOIDE HARPER on Jun 2, 2011 22:40:34 GMT 1
I was five and he was six, we rode on horses made of sticks.
He wore black and I wore white, he would always win the fight. Another gulp of coffee and the door of the cafe swung open, commanding her attention. He was a tall man, quite smartly dressed she thought but he carried himself lazily, his boots thumping and arms swinging by his side. Not at all what she had expected in all honesty from such a lucrative agency. But Aoide smiled warmly as he approached, plopping down in seat opposite her. Never judge a book by its cover, is what they say and she didn't have a bone in her body to be able to hate on people so she treated him, cheerfully and optimistically like she did everyone else.
"People often say I am glowing" she giggled, her face was fresh and her smile was warm and inviting. Her eyes dropped down to her hands, which rested on her knees under the table out from view, just to check. She shouldn't have been glowing, but there was always a possibility that she was, would have been sloppy and potentially dangerous. Satisfied she hadn't given away her identity. "I do know. In fact, you're looking at her" Aoide laughed lightly, extending her hand across the table to shake with the young man. "But I'm afraid I'll need to see some id before I hand them over to you" she explained, almost apologetically but firm as there was no other way. "They've been released, but there is still an ongoing investigation so I can't hand them over to just anyone"
ooc. no worries. I've seen much worse, it's fine.
wordcount.
tags. warren/open
muse. alcohol fueled.
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Post by WARREN SORROW on Jun 10, 2011 5:30:31 GMT 1
"Oh, yeah, ID would make sense. I swear, my brain is a million miles away. Which actually isn't true this time." he mumbled and slowly but surely lowered his head to rest on the table as she spoke and rummaged through his vest to find his wallet.
"I'm sorry for my actions, Sunshine, but i'm absolutely worthless without my morning brew. Unfortunately, I didn't have time to make any this mornin'. Do you mind if I have a few swigs of your coffee?" He snapped as he found it in the left breast pocket and produced the wallet by the time he was done begging and flipped it open to show his badge, then his B.P.R.D. ID.
He lazily raised his arm above the table and motioned towards her coffee. He picked up his head to rest it on his chin and gave her puppy dog eyes. "I'm not sick, I swear."
A moment later, he furrowed his brow and looked her over again. "Are you su-....." He took a deep breath through his nose. "Hold on." He reached into his duffel bag and produced a black doctors bag which he proceeded to reach into as well, going up to his shoulder even. He pulled out a brass cog, about the size of a softball. He placed it on the table and spun it while staring at Aoide. The pinion gear stopped a few rotations in and the middle shined like the sun. The light produced formed and arrow and pointed straight at her. He even picked it up and moved it around to check. "I knew it. You're an angel. You even smell like one. Which heirarchy you from?" he asked curiously.
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Post by AOIDE HARPER on Jun 13, 2011 0:32:34 GMT 1
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=width,410,true] | [atrb=background,http://img8.imageshack.us/img8/7033/aoidebg.jpg]"Oh, don't be sorry" she giggled, amused by his forward nature. It was quite refreshing. She was satisfied when he pulled out his badge, eying the B.R.P.D id. She was in the right place at least, and hopefully this man could be the allie in the agency that the angel needed to work with. "Of course you can have some coff...... " she had began to say, before he gave her a strange look.
"What're you doing?" she asked, with a higher pitched voice, raising up slightly in her seat as Warren produced the cog, spinning it on the table. Her blue eyes watched in alarm as it started to glow, the stream of light pointing towards her. Even as he moved it, it still shone. "Put that away!" she ordered, a hint of fear in her voice. She placed her hand on of the ball, covering the light as she pushed it back towards him. The angel glanced around nervously, hoping they weren't receiving any unwanted attention from any of the other patrons who may not have been what they seemed.
"Here, you can finish it." Aoide smiled an alarming smile, sliding the coffee along to the table to him. "Who, or should I say, what are you?" she asked in a hushed tone as he revealed her true identity. There wasn't much point in lying now, he had already sussed her out.
"Hermesiel." she answered, giving him her true name. "Though I recommend you don't say it allowed unless you really need to. I serve under Raphael, we seek to aid the B.R.P.D."
"I don't smell bad, do I?" the angel inquired, with a raised eyebrow under her thick fringe.
ooc. blah, im sorry it's so rubbish
wordcount. didnt count.
tags. Warren <3
muse. =)
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Post by WARREN SORROW on Jun 16, 2011 8:53:51 GMT 1
"I love it when i'm right." he said smuggly as he reached over, took her coffee, popped off the top with his thumb in one smooth motion and chugged the contents like a frat member at a college party and let out a satisfied breath upon downing it. "You don't have to worry about the cog. All it does is point you lot out. Anybody who saw it will wonder what they saw, and chalk it up to their imaginations. Anyone who does different will be called nuts." He said flatly and crushed the paper cup against the left side of his head once he had finished. "Thank you, by the way. Caffeine does wonders for a mad doctor. Now, onto your questions." He placed the squished cup onto the table and rested his elbows onto the table. "No, you do not smell bad. You smell wonderful actually. Too wonderful. Plus, i've met some of your fellow flappy folk before." he motioned the classic wing motion, moving your elbows up and down while keeping your arms in. "They also smelled 'too wonderful'. As for your other question, I am an associate of the B.P.R.D. Quite obvious, what with the badge and such. My name is Warren Balthazar Sorrow, at your many services. I'm the local witch doctor." He tipped an imaginary hat towards her and smiled like he had said something that was not obviously strange.
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