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WARNING This thread contains: strong language and drug usage starting with the first post. Reader discretion is advised. |
LOL 420 THREAD. Lolita, Razekiel, Cotl, Conor, Rikka, Silas, Lucia C., and I will be NPCing Anselm. :O And obviously, mature for drugs. :]. (471) Set in Halifax, and Anna made us a seating chart!
ALSO, no really strict posting order. 
Today was a great day in the Old Country. Rurik knew why, of course—he had celebrated this holiday in Amsterdam one year, and nothing could compare to the wonderful day that had been. It would have seemed the whole city was ablaze, but there was not a fire in sight—just happy, dazed smiles and reddened eyes. The silver-furred male remembered it well, and he held this dear memory close. But Amsterdam was a long way behind him now—he imagined Zharky in her shop, busy all throughout the day. She would close at sundown, as so many others, and keep the night for herself.
The silver-furred male made his way through the streets of Halifax, peering over the buildings. None seemed quite right for what he had in mind—which was nothing, really. He just hoped people would show up. He had mentioned it to a few in Cour des Miracles, but they hadn't been particularly interested in coming, it seemed. Maybe the same holiday he enjoyed would be popular here—it wasn't a huge thing, really, just a silly old tradition from back in the human's days. The silver-furred werewolf stopped in front of a furniture sture, lifting a brow as he studied the broken windows. This would be just perfect for what he had in mind.
The Russian male worked tirelessly for about a half hour, dragging dusty old couches out of the store. He figured he only needed three—there was no way this would be a bigger gathering than that, right? The thing that took him longer was beating the couches out, freeing them from the clinging dust and dirt that had accumulated over the years. They were set up right in the street in a U-shape, the armrests of each almost touching. He had also grabbed a few chairs, which he began to smash to pieces, beating them against the asphault to shatter them.
At some point, a voice from behind startled him—Rurik turned around to find Anselm standing there, looking pretty tired. The two conversed for a moment, with Anselm explaining that he'd spent the early parts of the day working in this garage, and Rurik excitedly babbling about the holiday and what it meant. Anselm agreed it was definitely good for a celebration, of course, and the pair settled down to the couches. Rurik lit the pile of chair-pieces up and started the fire while Anselm rolled a truly fat joint, twisting it up expertly in some strange dried leaves. The pair already had a bowlpiece from the garage and two bottles of liquor set out—not that today was a drinking holiday, but Rurik always provided such goodies, naturally. The two wolves were chattering eagerly away, passing the blunt between them, ready to spend the evening right where they were.
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