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Below are the most recent 25 friends' journal entries.
| Sunday, December 6th, 2009 | ||
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low_tide [ rhiannon_lee ] |
10:31p | Old Bones Four a.m. in Key West. Barflies tipped off their stools. Vacationers trudged back to their hotel rooms to sleep off a tequila haze. The buzzing of streetlamps was audible, now that the island music had drifted away. Time for a dreamless sleep. Rhiannon's shoes scuffed along the pavement. Closing time was a good time to patrol, just in case a vamp got the bright idea to munch on a bleary-eyed tourist. The paper landed on her doorstep every morning. Mysterious deaths increasing. Strange neck injuries. Yeah. Right. It was Searchlight all over again. The difference was, Key West had an inexhaustible supply of necks. She read the storefronts. 24 kt. gold! Tanzanite! Diamonds! Kites for toys and sport! Key lime pie! A beer bottle rolled in the gutter next to Captain Tony's Saloon. Duval Street was a weird part of town, she thought. The brightly painted shops looked like Candyland and smelled like a mixture of suntan lotion, beer, and seafood. Behind the famous street, a narrow alley was strewn with garbage. Palm trees, not tall buildings, blocked out the light. Roosters and rats scuttled in the garbage looking for scraps. A homeless man barged into her shoulder and kept going, mumbling under his breath. Because he didn't ask her for change, Rhiannon knew something had scared him. She stood at the mouth of the alley for a moment, letting her eyes adjust. A breeze blew a strand of hair into her eyes. ( The Alley ) |
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low_tide [ purityzstorms ] |
7:14p | Flash Back July 4, 2009 Key West, Florida "Hey, man! Put this on!" With a light thunk, a plastic top hat landed on Hayden's head. He took it off and looked at it. Stars and stripes, like Uncle Sam. He dug living in America, but no way in hell was he walking around a party wearing a flag on his head. He set it on a rustic deck chair and ambled down the steps with a cup of keg beer. The owners of the beach house had a narrow strip of waterfront, which was separated from neighboring property by a jetty. On this side of the barrier, grills smoked in a sand pit and a volleyball net had been set up. A couple of local guys played island music on guitars and animal-hide drums. Hayden knew the hosts, two real estate agents in their early thirties. Monied but down-to-earth, they showed up at his bar for drinks on Thursday nights. Since he didn't feel like spending the holiday at work, he accepted the invitation. Looking around in the golden light of the tiki torches, he recognized some of the people. Key West was a small island, so the familiar, tanned faces of its residents were easy to pick out. Sandals were kicked off and set aside so that pale toes could wriggle into the sand. Brushing a few strands of dark hair behind her ear, Purity listened to the music and let her body sway slightly where she sat. Taking a sip from the plastic cup in her hand, the witch sniffed the air and relished the mixed scents of sea and food. She'd been day dreaming again, and was brought out of it with a light nudge to her side. "I was saying, I bet you five bucks that I can get everyone running into the water by the end of the night." ( Give Me a Reason ) Current Mood:  flirty |
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low_tide [ deanna ] |
1:55a | Feel ( Can you? ) |
| Saturday, December 5th, 2009 | ||
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low_tide [ doingmything ] |
12:36a | 10-15 In the weeks Kris had been working this one area of Key West she couldn’t count on one hand the amount of times her and Leon had been called out to this one location with the same code every single night: 10-15. It was always the same, the guy had gone home drunk and slapped his girl around some until she’d cried bloody murder and the neighbour had made the call. Nothing changed, it didn’t matter how many times Kris and Leon hauled the guy’s ass to jail, he just went right back and did the exact same thing over and over again. Why the woman never left his ass was beyond Kris and she really didn’t feel like getting into it at the time she found herself turning up at the war torn apartment. “Not this again,” Leon grumbled under his breath, shifting from behind the wheel, easing his weight onto the dimly lit pavement. ( Something's Different ) Current Mood:  pissed off |
| Thursday, December 3rd, 2009 | ||
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low_tide [ izzy_shaw ] |
9:52p | Just Visiting Izzy finished scrubbing the paint away from her face, then returned to her bedroom from the bath to look over her handiwork with a satisfied air. The overdose of pink had finally been too much for her, and the witch had spent the past day transforming her room into something more adult with a few coats of white paint. Whatever she had been before the re-alignment, now she was something very different and having a bedroom that looked like something out of a Disney princess movie was more than she'd been able to stand for long. White walls were a good first step. ( Stranger at the door? ) [Note: The NPC Bobby Shaw was written by Stargazer] |
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low_tide [ averyisgone ] |
3:26p | Maybe it had been a bad decision to leave Vegas in such a hurry. It was eight o'clock at night, and Cassidy was fumbling for her sunglasses to put them on against the glare of streetlights as she made her way down the sidewalk. She was hung over, and she'd been hung over for a couple of days now. The problem with hangovers was that only more booze could ease the pain,and she found herself relying on the bottle to get her through even those short days. A drinking problem at forty. How unoriginal. She could hear the tide going out, and she padded down to the sand. Her rental was close enough to the beach that the early tide woke her up, but she'd been avoiding the outdoors. She'd been half-drunk when she made the plane reservations, and caught her flight on a wave of schnapps-fueled indignation. Can her, would they? Well, she didn't need them. She still had her looks and her talent. She'd get by. The question was...how. ( Everyone Is a Tourist ) |
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low_tide [ cassidy_rae ] |
3:49p | Out To Pasture "Cassidy, can you come in the office for a minute? I need to talk to you." She had taken the last of her makeup off, toweling the sweat off the back of her neck before tugging a sweatshirt on. It was as cold tonight as Nevada got, and the wind coming in off the desert had a definite bite to it. In the mirror, she saw Charlie, the club manager, poking his head into the dressing room. Everyone else had either left or was getting ready to leave. As the headliner, Cassidy usually ended up staying until they closed the doors. She draped the towel over her shoulder, got up from her chair. Her feet were killing her, and she left her shoes behind to put them on later. ( Say What?! ) |
| Tuesday, December 1st, 2009 | ||
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low_tide [ izzy_shaw ] |
9:23p | Question and Answer Bare feet quietly crossed tile and into the tiny patch of soft grass in the back garden as Izzy made her way from the house with only the light of the full moon overhead to guide her. Her housemates were sound asleep, and the witch had made certain none of them would wake up before sunrise with a few judicious castings and a silencing charm. A privacy fence around the back and thick vegetation in the garden eased any worries that the neighbors would see or hear anything they shouldn't so that was covered as well. Only the hum from the nearby pool and the chirping of crickets in the distance disturbed the stillness and were easily tuned out. ( Asking a lot ) |
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low_tide [ hayden_maragos ] |
7:53p | Say Argh Katherine was meeting with marginal success in Key West. The one good thing which was going for it seemed to be the nightlife, in the hedonistic vampire's view. Unless contracted for something, the brunette tended to spend her time in almost petty constant attempts to prove herself. But getting drunk and simply having fun tearing up either the local town - or just the locals in it - was ideal. Every so often, Katherine spent her time going to literal war zones, immersing herself in killing mentality where nobody would question finding corpses. More to the point, they provided her with a challenge, but then came the other times... Times when she got bored of them, like playing a particularly violent computer game for too long. It was like that now. The island provided her with a place to simply sit back and enjoy things. With a mentality like Katherine's, though, it was not long before the impulsive need to do something won out. Lucky Hayden. For it was into his bar the brunette had wandered, already just drunk enough to feel free-spirited and, as the hour wore on, seeming to veer between giving out an uproar of laughter in joking conversation and, somehow, taking exception to what were perceived as offensive comments or looks directed at her. The smiles of before always vanishing as she growled out a demand for an apology. "An' if there's one thing I can - hey! That song! Leave that fucker on!" ( Drunk in Public ) ( Fanged Embrace ) |
| Monday, November 30th, 2009 | ||
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low_tide [ psychicnotcrazy ] |
11:44p | Difficult Patients Thinking clearly was something that never used to come to one Jennifer Lowe all that easily. It had taken her years and years to understand her power and still most of the semantics and logistics of her ability kind of completely washed over her head, but finally she was able to use it to actually do some good and to help. Of course, with John Doe who was still John Doe, she was getting nowhere. She kept getting images, stilted, like photos that hadn't been properly developed, still half immersed in water. She hated that she couldn't help him and she hated that there was no one there to see him. Especially since they were considering taking him off the life-support he had been on for the last three weeks. But he wasn't brain dead, that much at least she knew. Not that anyone listened, he wasn't responding to any of the communication techniques that indicated whether or not someone was vegetative, so as far as they were concerned, he was brain dead. But she knew, she knew more than anything that he wasn't. It was one of the few things she was confident that she did know; for some reason, she knew when people were going to die and he wasn't. It wasn't his fate. Not yet anyway, because everyone died at some point or another. But not him, not now. ( Hospital Duty ) ooc: NPC Blake was written by Mands |
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low_tide [ luckandchance ] |
11:04p | Behind The Scenes Part of taking over new territory was spreading fear and sowing seeds of mistrust, Joseph knew this better than anyone else. He’d already began his campaign of fear by first attacking small branches before escalating into full out mayhem by incendiary devices being planted and blown. The press were having a field day, the local authorities not so much. Nothing could be traced, everything was easy to make and planned to the last meticulous detail so there was no paper trail. Now was the time to rip the rivals apart from the inside out. ( Legwork ) Current Mood:  working |
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low_tide [ voiceinthedark ] |
10:28p | Distance Between Them Cowardly was the last thing that Boden could be called, but since his arrival in this new world and this new body he had been displaying all the traits of the behaviour, including avoiding his apartment and anything associated with this Boden’s life. He had after many hours of wandering decided to bite the bullet and brave it, rummaging out the keys and finding his way back there with little problem, easily navigating the strange streets with an ease that could only come from having lived there a very long time. Inhaling and exhaling was the only way in which Boden could insert the key into the lock and turn it, hearing it click with an ominous ease. It was now or never, go in or turn back, Boden decided on the former rather than the latter. The door was opened for an all of sixty seconds before Boden finally took a step over threshold, fully immersing himself in this other man’s life; a life that assaulted him in personal decoration, photographs and a flashing answering machine. ( Lucky Girlfriend ) [NPC Charlie was written by Willow] Current Mood:  confused |
| Sunday, November 29th, 2009 | ||
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low_tide [ corbett_prof ] |
9:32p | Legends, Shrouds and Death Worms ( Gobi Desert, Mongolia. August 6, 2002. ) |
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low_tide [ izzy_shaw ] |
5:59p | Carpe Diem Coming back to work after a few days off sucked, even if your family was rich and you worked in paradise. That was the conclusion Izzy quickly arrived at on her first day back since Thanksgiving. The normally bustling resort was dead, people sticking close to home over the month-long period in between Thanksgiving and Christmas, and there was almost nothing for the customer service staff to do. At least her shift was almost over. Maybe she'd call Rhiannon and see about going over and working on that set of binoculars for the Slayer, she'd need to swing by the house and change out of her business suit and grab her tool kit first but it would be good to get her hands dirty again. ( Awkward encounter. ) ( text to Rhiannon ) |
| Saturday, November 28th, 2009 | ||
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low_tide [ izzy_shaw ] |
4:42p | Tradition Thanksgiving Day, 2009 Izzy smoothed the fabric of her dress and ignored the butterflies in her stomach as she came down the stairs to the main floor of her parents' home. 'Isabelle' had known these people all her life, and everything had gone swimmingly when they picked her up at the airport. There was no reason to think that her family would think there was anything too different about their daughter, so why did she feel like everything was too good to be true? ( Home for the Holiday ) [Note: The NPCs Geoff and Frances Nealson were written by Stargazer.] |
| Friday, November 27th, 2009 | ||
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low_tide [ rhiannon_lee ] |
1:32a | |
| Thursday, November 26th, 2009 | ||
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low_tide [ luckandchance ] |
10:29p | Wind Down The room was dark, pitched into shadow, until a switch was flipped and it was bathed in bright artificial light, revealing the man shedding layers in his travels towards the bathroom. It wasn’t long until he was left in nothing more than a pair of jeans that had been a pair of his best until this particular night. Joseph pulled at the skin around his bicep and his top lip curled as he regarded a long cut, which thankfully had missed his tattoo. There had been a couple of lucky swings, resulting in some superficial injuries that didn’t stop at the one around his bicep; they decorated bone of collar and teased the curve of one hip. Blowing out a breath, Joseph picked up a nearby clear bag and sorted through it, pulling out antiseptic wipes and steri-strips, methodically laying them out on the nearby surface. He began by first of all cleaning the cuts with water, simply biting back on the twinges of pain that arose as a result, ignoring the burning sensation that settled into the ragged corners of every cut. He was pretty sure his mouth was going to be bruised from one flyaway punch that had slipped through his defences, not to mention his earlier altercation with a table. Joseph sat back onto the edge of the bath, ripped denim stretching thinly across one knee and began the clean and repair process. It was all so routine that he could do it blindfolded, he really cloud. With the cuts cleaned and brought together, Joseph disposed of the medical supplies and brushed his thumb over a small cut that lingered beneath his left eye. ( In Room Entertainment ) Current Mood:  mellow |
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low_tide [ escapingdestiny ] |
5:31a | New Beginnings Destiny stretched out on the beach. The person whose former life she now possessed didn't have any sign of a job. The bungalow was empty, a one bedroom deal within walking distance to the beach. Not knowing what else to do, she grabbed a book from the bookshelf in the living room and made her way to the beach. The bookshelves in that room rivaled the shelves at Unseen Insight. She felt a pang. She hadn't seen Emmeline Keddle since Aidan's funeral. It was way too painful and with the passage of time, they gradually grew apart. Destiny left for Jersey without even saying goodbye. She ran a finger across the ridged spines as she moved towards the open French doors, white sundress billowing in the wind. What did she do in her previous life to wake up in paradise? She caught her naked ring finger out of the corner of her eye. Well, almost paradise. Shunning her flip-flops, the Slayer sunk her feet into the sand and closed and locked the door behind her. She hung the key around her neck on the rawhide lanyard and walked down the beach. It was gorgeous out, as usual. Finding a quiet stretch of beach, she watched the snorkels of divers bob and weave through the azure sea. She leaned back and closed her eyes, novel forgotten. Breathing deeply, she exhaled and looked out, watching the waves retract into the sea and disappear into the horizon. There was very little that could keep Emmeline Keddle out of the water these days. She was determined to master her first element by the winter season's end, and with the ocean on all sides, water was in ample supply for a start. She had been out with her snorkel and dive bag again, this time in the shallows off the beach, just observing the brightly colored schools of fish and searching out a stray rock here and there that might prove useful in her craft, for the better part of the afternoon. With Bailey and her father set to arrive for a holiday meal the following evening, she hadn't much time to spare before she needed to begin preparing their feast, but the draw of the ocean was just too much. Never one for flippers, she swam up to where the water shallowed enough to stand and walked up the surf towards her beach bag and towel in the sand, foregoing a dry-off for just slipping back into a long gypsy-styled skirt and wearing the black halter of her swimsuit as a top. Her hair, long and wet and threatening to dampen her bottom with the free-swinging dripping tendrils, was quickly pulled up messily into a black plastic clip retrieved from her bag, and she started up the beach to comb for shells and whatever other treasures it might yield. Spotting a new face near a vintage beach bungalow, Emmeline paused to offer the stranger a smile. ( In another time, in another place ) |
| Wednesday, November 25th, 2009 | ||
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low_tide [ luckandchance ] |
11:35p | Sending A Message Tonight was about one thing and one thing only: sending a message, a strong powerful message that would echo in the ears of the superiors and cause second thoughts. The approach was far from delicate, it was brutality embodied from the first person taken to the ground to the way in which the imposing force laid claim to the space. Blood soaked through skin, shouts of pain rang in ears long closed to the pleas for mercy and cold detachment served to make every action more calculated than the last. It was only after the bar fell silent that the assault ceased, brought to a lingering end that tugged at the fragile strings tying allegiances to the men that gave the injured parties their marching orders. One of the few standing was Joseph, eyes surveying the destruction that had been reaped by his and two others hands. It was ugly, but sometimes ugly was the only way to get things done - to get a clear message across. Two crimson coloured fingers held a half burned cigarette and knocked ash onto the ground, grey flecks disintegrating into the muddled colours; it would be hell to clean. With cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth Joseph grabbed a hold of a nearby stool and dragged it over to where the previously smart mouthed man laid, Joseph had picked him out as the leader the moment he’d gone off on one. ( Lucky One ) Current Mood: working |
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low_tide [ hannah_flynn ] |
10:35a | Confessions of a Bad Girl ( Hannah's Diary - New Material ) |
| Tuesday, November 24th, 2009 | ||
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low_tide [ izzy_shaw ] |
11:52p | Dazed and confused. November 22, 2009 Now what the hell do I do? Izzy Shaw stared at the tiny piece of jewelry innocently sitting there nestled in its box. It was just some gold and diamonds, nothing that should cause her the least bit of trouble, so why was she looking at it as if it would jump out and bite her? ( Big impact from a tiny item ) |
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low_tide [ doingmything ] |
9:18p | Going Easy Around 2:15a.m., once the last employee left for home, Hayden locked up the bar. The patio faced a marina, crowded by schooners, charter boats, and a few house boats. One of those had already been strung with blue Christmas lights, which made a strange neighbor for the yacht next to it, where a party was in full swing. Music from a steel drum band floated on the air. Hayden sat down on the end of a pier and pulled a joint from his pocket. He didn't like to smoke at the house because he only rented the bottom floor. The upstairs neighbors, a pair of yuppies saving to buy a condo, complained if the acrid odor got in the air vents. It was easier just to hang out here. He felt a little weak burning one by himself, but things at the bar weren't going that great. His business partner, a laid-back guy named Mike, wasn't pulling his administrative weight and Hayden was debating how to bring it up. He couldn't exactly fire him. Holding the joint in his mouth, he lit up. Under his shoes, salty water rolled with what passed for waves on Key West. ( Busted ) ( Night Jogging ) Current Mood: working |
| Monday, November 23rd, 2009 | ||
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low_tide [ hayden_maragos ] |
10:20p | Quick Chat Abandon Ship!, a nautical-themed bar, opened onto a wharf at the Historic Seaport Walk. In its former life, the building was a seafood restaurant, and on the scalding hot days of summer, the kitchen still smelled of fried shrimp. Its co-proprietor, Hayden, had been a bartender in a tiki hut prior to securing a small business loan from the bank. Though he came to work in a collared shirt instead of a tee now, he considered it a fair trade, because he no longer had to wear a lei or listen to a Hawaiian guy play 'Somewhere Over the Rainbow' on ukulele. The staff was small in the off-season, just three bartenders and five waitstaffers. Hayden and his partner pitched in where needed. He liked day shifts. Slow business meant he could grab a book, duck outside, and sit on the deck furniture. Boats, gulls, and sloshing ocean water made good white noise for reading his book on pirating, which he picked up from The Next Chapter. Looking at the sticker on the back, Hayden thought about Mallory and how she hadn't come in for that drink. Aidan had stared at the schedule in his own handwriting that hung from a garish tourist-theme magnet on the refrigerator in his bright pink kitchen for a good minute or two before it clicked in his head. He had planned to spend his time going over paint swatches for the kitchen - unable to believe that he, or rather, his alter-self, hadn't gotten around to repainting as yet - but what was clearly a work schedule had him booked for the better part of the day. It was something of a switch; Aidan had left his life when he worked a sporadic schedule and still received a steady paycheck. Having written, controlled hours would take some getting used to. ( Just a Little Advice ) |
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low_tide [ psychicnotcrazy ] |
10:52p | Breakfast at Tiffany's Kris groaned in frustration as the incessant beeping of her nearby alarm clock roused herself from an exceptionally good dream that involved dancing, handsome men and other wonderful things like that. She blinked blearily at the digits and attempted to recall why she’d become a police officer again when it meant getting up this early. Reluctantly she peeled her covers back and placed her bare feet on the carpeted floor, thankful not for the first time that she’d manage to convince Simon that carpet was way better than wood or tiled floors. Hands slid through her hair and promptly yanked it back into a boring but highly effective plait before those hands rummaged through her closet, pulling out the neatly pressed uniform she wore from the beginning to the end of her working day. She rubbed at an old scar on her shoulder and quickly covered it with the shirt a few moments later before tugging her pants on, the crease running the length of her thigh and shin as the hem of her pants settled around the boots she’d worn in over time. ( Sleeping Beauty ) ( Bigger girl ) ( Crazy this time of year ) ( Another day at the office, another headache ) |
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low_tide [ luckandchance ] |
8:54p | Eventful Times For the last hour a glass of whiskey with half melted ice had stood neglected, forgotten beneath a haze of smoke and hidden under a brim of a hat that all but concealed the wearer’s face. It was deliberate, like everything else Joseph did. In his wanderings he’d found a local hotspot for criminals, drug dealers and reprobates - a safe haven in which to drink and be merry. Some more than others. Just like the big guy near the jukebox; he’d drank too much and as a result spent most of his time hassling the young waitress on duty. For the most part it was innocent enough, but there were a few insinuations and tones that didn’t sit very well with Joseph. If there was one thing he hated more than rival gangs it was a man disrespecting a woman. ( Friendly Warning ) Current Mood: relaxed |