[M] burning on the highway.

Rurik Russo · 04-20-2010, 01:52 AM

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WARNING This thread contains: strong language and drug usage starting with the first post. Reader discretion is advised.

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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.

Cotl · 04-20-2010, 03:53 AM

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http://i187.photobucket.com/albums/x242 ... anatab.png); background-color:#000000; background-position:top center; background-repeat:no-repeat; text-align:justify;">weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee; ya'll can steal this table if you want to use it. I don't minddddd <3333 +5

Cotl had celebrated it before, with his brother and his friends, and had a big party within Cotl's den before the master came in and broke it up, getting mad about the amount of smoke and weed that was in the den and forcing every one out. Cotl hated master for ruining his 4/20 but this year, this year it was going to be much different. Cotl had started early, his jar broken out at about sunrise and him smoking out of his mushroom bong and fogging out the stables to share with his steed. It wasn't like Cotl hadn't done it a million times before. Today had he fogged it out twice or so before he got on the steed's back and left the stable.

Cotl laid on his steed's back, guitar in hand, his face in his gas mask, lighter in his wrist band so he wouldn't lose the damn thing while he played his guitar. The steed had been going at a brisk trot for the majority of the trip, making it go a lot faster that it would have been if they were leisurely walking along. The ivory fingers had been dancing along the strings of the guitar, skill obviously being able to be seen. The male was an artist, he was good at things like this. He hadn't played his guitar in some time, since his left hand had been injured, and since he had been preoccupied with the war. The black guitar with the painted skull (that he painted himself might I add, since he had this guitar since he was in Germany) had collected dust in it's corner, Cotl sometimes moving it and figiting with it because he would have the urge to play but his hand would tell him that it was too hard, or business called and he would need to depart from the mansion or whatever his stupid excuses were.

Cotl was stringing on his guitar, picking it rather quickly, in the manner he had heard on some metal CDs that him and Kansas had picked out. Kanny had also given him the CD player in exchange for a piercing. He didn't have the same strings on the guitar he had though. He wondered how they got the strength behind the music sometimes. He knew it had something to do with machines. He just didn't know how to make it like that. Cassius probably knew. Before long, Cotl was riding into Halifax, the clopping of the steed's hooves littering the abandoned streets as they rode on. Maschine let out a small nicked as Cotl had bounced up for a second, seeing someone out of the corner of his eye down one of the streets.

NYEH. the sound came from his throat as he had quickly grabbed the reigns and turned the horse around and then down the street that they had passed. Cotl had gotten the steed to come to a brisk trot down the street when the Imaginifer noticed that he did know one of the fellows that were in the middle of the street on some couches. He pulled the reigns back to come to a halt before the men and he smiled from under his gas mask. He unclipped the mask and removed it from his face. He shot a nod to Anselm. Happy 4/20, Anselm, -Mann. Ich kann see dat you are celebrating as vell. Care to add ein third? he addressed the male he did not know as mann, the German word for man. Cotl dismounted from his steed and he had jumped over onto one of the couches.

De namen ist Cotl Ulrich. Inferni Imaginifer. he spoke to the other male as he twitched his shoulder before nodded to the grey male in a greeting.

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Silas Agata · 04-20-2010, 04:17 AM

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Why hello there stoners. Edit: 3 minutes off, dammit. XD +3

It was another day for Halifax.

The Russo family has relocated to Cour de Miracles and Silas had been happy to hear it. Now his family no longer lived in the motel in the city and were able to interact with their pack members, just as Silas had begun to create a network within Inferni. Still, Silas found himself often wandering by the dilapidated building hoping to find Liliya, Rurik, or possibly even Anatoliy sitting outside or strolling nearby. However, that happened less and less now that the building was free of the family’s presence.

The street, though no longer home, still felt familiar as Silas turned down it. As he expected, the motel was empty. Silas wasn't dissuaded though, and knew he wouldn’t return to his room in D’Neville empty handed. In fact, he had come with the mission to bring home a few more bottles of alcohol if he could find some. Now that the war was behind Inferni, the Russian felt it time he let loose and let himself fall into a bottle or two. The store where he had secured his Russian flag would do the trick, he assumed, even though he had noticed that there were relatively few unbroken bottles left for people to scavenge. But the youth was only asking for one. It wouldn’t be too much trouble to find, would it?

With the sun shining gently on his back, Silas turned down another Halifax street absentmindedly dodging cracks in the pavement where vegetation had pushed through. He knew his way to the store so his mind was free to wander off and think of anything he wanted, and almost instantly the Russian found himself picturing ruby red. But it wasn’t the same ruby red that had haunted his nights and stained his hands. It was her ruby red.

A familiar smell reached him, and Silas looked up as if to discover its source. There was nothing in sight, but he was sure he could hear the low babble of talking not too far off. Having gotten lost in his thoughts, he had barely picked up on the scents underlying the smell of the burning cannabis. When he came to an intersection, Silas turned to look down the perpendicular street. There, of course, were the guilty. Among them none other than his father.

"Отец, что ты здесь делаешь?" Silas called playfully to his father in native tongue, smiling his Cheshire grin as he advanced towards the group settled into the couches. He knew them all and was only slightly surprised to see that Rurik’s company were both from Inferni. "Vhat ees going on today?" Silas asked, settling himself onto one of the couches while he peered from one male to the next.

Conor Soul · 04-20-2010, 10:09 AM

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300+ ~~NO TIME FOR TABLES!~~ I ADDED TABLE

He had thought that banishing Haku would solve problems. Nowhere seemed quite as safe as it had been anymore. The demon was out there; roaming the lands freely. The yearling had failed in his eyes, for he now wondered that by taking away his father’s crown he had unleashed the unholy beast upon the rest of ‘Souls. Night and day he wanted to trail the pack borders to ensure that they were all safe, but it was not only Dahlia de Mai he felt responsible for. The blue eyed monster deserved death several times over and Conor was so sorry that he had not been able to put the crazed beast out for good.

Today he followed a different path, moving away from Dahlia’s south-eastern borders and into the city of Halifax and he had for some time now followed a weak, scented trail that spoke of Rurik. Conor had never once visited the Russian male in the edge of the city where he supposedly lived, and he regretted that. Despite acting like a true fool, Conor had really liked the gentle minded male. It seemed the scent of Cour des Miracles had taken him under his wings though, and it helped remind the yearling that there was a lot of work to be done to set the relationship between Dahlia de Mai and the rest of the packs right again.

He found the canine form he was looking for -- he had already picked up the heavy scent of cannabis --, but unfortunately the Russo man was not alone. He could feel his hackles rise somewhat as he entered the scene and let lilac eyes visit each of the three forms of Inferni coyotes. It seemed like a jolly scene; dusty couches sitting out in the open street and canines sitting in them with a bonfire to spice it up even more. The war was over but the anger was probably still there. The Dahlian chose to give it a shot anyway, but his confidence was not overly high as he slowly approached the merry group with his hands somewhat lifted as a sign of peace. ”Rurik,” the boy addressed warmly to the only canine he recognized, honestly wondering if he had intruded a private party of some kind. He was unable to guess what the occasion was.

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Rikka de le Poer · 04-20-2010, 06:17 PM

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y halo thar! X3 500+

___Rikka had scoured every building in Lunenburg to find things to decorate her new little shack and home with, but everything she had wanted hadn't been available in the town. There was only one place that she knew she'd be able to find the rest of the things she desired: Halifax. Still, the thought of leaving Cour des Miracles unaccompanied made her unbelievably nervous. It didn't help that Dahlia de Mai's territory butted right onto the edges of the city. She didn't know that the war had ended, but if she had known that the madman was running loose now it would have made her fear like she hadn't since arriving in her new home. Rikka had debated what to do the night before frantically, unable to come to a solid decision. Finally she had decided to go, but she had also found an old knife to take with her. She had placed the small blade in her satchel where it would be easily reachable. However, as much as it made her feel more secure it made a sick feeling sit in the pit of her stomach. The woman hated having any sort of weapon on her. She prayed to the Mother that she wouldn't have any need to use it.

___Early in the morning she had set out towards the city, her eyes flicking nervously all over the place, nose alert for any sign of Dahlia or Haku. Her hands clutched to the strap of her bag as she entered the city, the imposing buildings doing nothing for her state of mind. Silently as she could manage she searched for what she wanted: a bead curtain for the entrance of the shack and a large tie dye sheet to use as a canopy out front of it. Each noise made her jump and her hand would dart into her bag, grabbing the handle of the knife hidden inside. Thankfully though they had all been false alarms and she had heaved a great sigh afterwords, her hand shaking as it let go of the weapon.

___After a few hours she found what she had come for and had shoved them in her bag which now bulged out awkwardly with the ungainly items. Strolling with a bit more confidence down the streets an all too familiar and tantalizing scent came to her nose. With all of her nerves over coming to the city she had completely forgot what day it was! Rurik had told her that he'd be coming to the city to celebrate and she figured that it was surely him that she was scenting. A small smile lifting her lips she made out in the direction of the fragrance of marijuana, it pulling her in like an old friend.

___It wasn't long that the little bonfire and gathering of couches came into sight. Sure enough it was her Russian friend, but more than that, her cousin Anselm as well! There was also two other males from Inferni that she didn't recognize and a third that she couldn't catch a whiff of quite yet. Rikka walked up to the gathering and as she entered the rough "u" she caught the distinct scent of Dahlia from the other golden man. More than that though, his musk was similar to Haku's...too similar. Her face melted into a neutral mask that was strained. Golden eyes darted to Anselm and the other Inferni members, wondering why they didn't seem more tense with the Dahlian male around. Swallowing nervously she quickly took a seat near Rurik and she had no doubt that anyone near her would be able to sense her barely masked distress.

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Razekiel Lykoi · 04-21-2010, 12:47 AM

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What was he doing out there, anyway? Halifax was rather far from home, but goodness, had Mother Earth graced such a place! Razekiel had stared at Father Ocean for what had been hours but seemed merely minutes; it was as if the sun danced on his waves with all her might and strength, or perhaps his eyes were simply grayed when he stood in that land of blood and hate, Inferni, and gazed upon the ocean there. The breeze, so fresh! He strode with a dance in his steps, he wiggled his hips and bobbed his head, flipping tanned dreadlocks this way and that. How wonderfully he felt that beauty within him, capturing his senses, commanding his body! Uplifting--renewing! It was as if Mother Earth had so suddenly birthed him again and shown him the furthest extents of her majesty!

Razekiel had danced his way into the heart of Halifax before he knew it, and though he strode in a land of dust and dead, the coyote beamed his brightest smile. His head was already spinning; a morning of that exotic aroma and taste had sent him spiraling headlong into a glorious mood. Whether or not he would remember any of his experiences that day would be a different story, but for now, that wonderful smell he knew so well filled his lungs and stimulated his senses, but oh, it was not his own! That wonderful drug, smoking somewhere so close? He followed the scent, toothy grin unfailing, and was led to broken windows and familiar faces within.

Such comfortable-looking furniture! The boy was thrilled, almost tempted to bounce childishly on their cushions, but was otherwise distracted by the increasingly numerous acquaintances he recognized as he drew closer. Silas--oh, Silas! It had been a long time since they had talked, and he smelled of Inferni as strongly as the crass-looking amber boy he didn't know. He smiled brightly in seeing Rikka, though he did not immediately know her name, but was somehow able to distinguish her as close family one way or another. Perhaps his mother had mentioned her at some point. And, of course, there was Anselm--but the rest he did not know. Surely they would let him stay, if he offered his own goods. Such comfortable seating! "Woooahh, man, look at this rockin' diiiive," he said to no one in particular, straw eyes gaping his way and that as his step stumbled once or twice. "And the smell, man, I got plenty of that to share with my groupies, yeah?"

He glanced at the few he didn't know, motioned for peace with his fingers, and grinned: "Razekiel, man. Lykoi, Inferni, all that, man. I got pot." Smooth, as he always was, right?

Rurik Russo · 04-21-2010, 05:10 AM

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Also yes there is a ~*~*~magical table*~*~ by the couches now. It was there before I swear. :| Also I haven't written a post this long since Sosu. 945. O_O

The silver furred wolf and his Infernian companion were engaged in a rather heated debate about the different strains of cannabis, with Rurik insisting that a pale bud was better, while Anselm asserted that color had very little to do with the potency. There was nothing hostile in them, and every few moments one of them wound completely bungle a word or reverse a pair of words, and both would explode into laughter. It was not long before others began to join them, the first of which Anselm seemed to recognize. “Oh yeah, hey Cotl. Happy holiday, dude,” Anselm said. Sloppy grins were already plastered on both of their faces, of course, and Rurik held the smoking thing up to Cotl as the man vaulted the couch and made himself comfortable. His glassy and slightly reddish eyes were focused on the other wolf, a smile on his face. “German, eh? Guten tag, my man, guten tag,” the Russian said, laughing at this completely unfunny statement. It was awesome to encounter someone else from across the pond.

A more familiar voice sounded down the street, and Rurik looked up to see Silas. For this, he jumped up and spread his arms wide, positively roaring with laughter. “Празднование! Ну дыма с мужчинами, Silas,” the man teased, though thankfully this gentle prod was in Russian, and hopefully nobody else would understand it. There wasn't a doubt in Rurik's head that his children were grown; Silas didn't need to hang with the men to prove he was indeed a man. Another face showed—Conor! Rurik looked over at the young wolf, impressed—he seemed years older now, for some reason. Rurik knew almost nothing of the war between Inferni and Dahlia—all he knew was what Silas had told him those months ago. He glanced nervously at his companions, hesitating a moment.

“Allo, Conor,” he said, smoothly as he could—still, he settled back down to his chair and patted the space next to him. “You seet over here, ya? Silas, you seet too,” the man commanded. “Maybe Anselm and you have to grab another couch if more come,” he suggested. Such a move might ease the tension, if any arose. Removing two Infernians for a moment would certainly help, and Rurik would do his best to defuse the situation—the last thing he wanted was for someone to break out into arguement. Anselm had also picked up on some of the tension, and the tawny-hued man was busily packing a bowlpiece, not even hitting it before he passed it along to Silas wordlessly, working on the next bowl. Rurik nodded a very small nod, approving of this. If nothing else would help the situation, that certainly would.

Another presence immediately caught the silvery Russian's attention, and his bright blue eyes turned to Rikka excitedly as she strolled over, throwing his arm outward, turning toward the men gathered on the couches. “Aha, the veemen are arriving!” he declared, roaring with laughter. Anselm rolled his eyes in a seriously exaggerrated manner and passed the next packed bowlpiece and lighter along to Conor, briefly instructing him how to use it. “Put your lips there, put the fire there, and inhale.” Simple enough. The blunt was already growing small, so Anselm began twisting another one of those. Rurik winced, and vowed to help his friend when he was able—for now he just wanted to make sure that nobody was going to go slicing any throats. He waved Rikka over and patted the seat to the other side of him, grinning at her. “Allo, Rikka.”

Another stranger floated into their midst, and Rurik eyed him, positively amazed at the other man's demeanor. He was already cooking, the pale eyes clearly droopy and loopy even behind the rose glasses. He was Inferni, though, and he introduced himself in such an easy-going manner. They had just two seats left, but it didn't seem that anyone was going to explode, so Rurik didn't say anything else about the couch—they could grab another if they needed it. “Welcome, Razekiel! We just get started here, really—you are velcome to join, and sharing would be very good!” the man declared. They had plenty, sure, but the more the merrier, right? “Everybody, everybody,” the Russian wolf said, standing up once more, waving his hands about to indicate he wished for a moment of quiet.

“In Amsterdam, zhis is great holeeday, today, zhis fourth day of—no, no,” he stopped, laughed, and made an attempt to compose himself. “Zhis twentieth day of fourth month. Zhey call it ‘four-twenty.’ Eet is entire day... devoted to zhis,” he said, plucking the freshly rolled blunt from Anselm's fingers, holding it up for a moment before he brought it to his lips, inhaling a huge hit. “Eenjoy!” he declared in a voice choked with smoke, and then released, coughing and laughing as he fell backwards into his seat, landing beside Conor and Rikka, a sloppy grin planted on his face. Obediently he passed the blunt over, and began rolling another—there were many people here, and it was definitely time to start baking. “You know how to roll? You take, you roll,” the man said, indicating the tupperware of marijuana on the table. It was in the tupperware for safety's sake, of course—the last thing they needed was their stash blowing away. Rolling papers and the strange dried leaves were both stacked on top of the marijuana in there, and next to the tupperware was of course the last remaining bowlpiece out of current circulation and the bottles of liquor. That was easy enough—even not knowing how to roll, bowlpieces were quite simple to prepare.

Cotl · 04-21-2010, 07:41 PM

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http://i187.photobucket.com/albums/x242 ... anatab.png); background-color:#000000; background-position:top center; background-repeat:no-repeat; text-align:justify;">I passed out so hard last night and didn't wake up until 1pm today. then had to go get contacts. sorry T.T +5

Oh yeah, hey Cotl. Happy holiday, dude. Anselm responded to Cotl. Cotl gave a smile to his friend and then was addressed to by the ashen male. German, eh? Guten tag, my man, guten tag he spoke to him, giving a stoned laugh, in which the Imaginifer actually joined in on before talking. Cotl also had grabbed the blunt that was handed to him and took a few tokes off of the blunt before passing it back to Anselm. Guten tag right back at 'ya, mein freund. the male spoke to the others before he had taken his mask and put it on the table. Cotl gave a twitch of his neck as he looked to see Silas, a male he had met only days before. They shared the mansion together, to Cotl's knowledge, and they were only meeting days ago. The Imaginifer needed to get out more, or atleast to meet his packmates more. Silas was probably the start of this. Cotl threw up an ivory hand at his friend as he approached, his maw letting a NYEH sound come from it before he was able to speak. Silas, mein man! the first words from the Russian's mouth were not intended for the German, simply because they both had gotten over the fact that there was a language barrier between the two on that field. It was then that he noticed that the ashen male and Silas had about the same accent, one was less thick then the other. His right ear fell back on his head for a moment, as if he was trying to understand the Russian words, but then reminded his stoned mind that he couldn't and wouldn't be able to understand what he was saying anyways. Vhat ees going on today? the Russian he knew had spoken to the group, ice blue eyes circling the circle of pot heads. Cotl smiled before Rurik jumped up and too spoke Russian. Vhatever he said!-FICK- the male spoke, not really caring what Rurik said, but agreeing with it anyways.

It was then another moved about the three Infernians and the Cour canines. Another wolf, from Dahlia De Mai had shown their ugly little face. Cotl couldn't help but bend both of his ears back. The Imaginifer was uncomfortable for a second, and took up his gas mask and mounted it on his face again. He took his lighter from his wrist band and lit the end of the bowl, covering the carb with his left hand, lighting with his right. He took a hit off of the mask, his sucking in the smoke for a good 30 seconds or so before letting the carb go and breathing in deeply. The moment that the smoke entered his little lungs, the brute relaxed. This mind had also worked through it, saying there were more Inferni than Dahlia, so it would be stupid for the Dahlia to pose a threat. Plus, the way he was approaching also denoted peace. Cotl the the grudges pass over like rain clouds that were not just yet ready to rain. The ashen male had called the dahlian "Conor" and asked if he would take a seat next to him.

The next two to show were also Inferni. A woman, and a male. Both seen at the meetings before by the Imaginifer. He held no relationship with them though, and really didn't even know who they were as far as names go. The Imaginifer had twitched as he had watched the two new faces. The male introduced himself as Razekiel Lykoi (this name had come up in a conversation with Kaena once, so he knew that this male was her son) and Cotl gave a curt nod to the male, still not speaking. They were seated before Rurik (the name was found out by when the dahlian had greeted him) stood up, a dumb smirk on his maw and started to talk. He spoke about what today was. Not without messing up at first, in which Cotl gave a dumb chuckle at as well as a rough clearing of his throat. He was with a bunch of strangers, new and unused to the male and his conditions, he could only hope that nobody got offended and walked away (though who would walk away from a pot circle because of someone cursing?...Exactly, someone worth not hanging out with.) Cotl took the mask from his face, noticing that it needed to be repacked and passed on. To his left was Anselm, Rikka, Rurik and then Conor, to his right being Raze and Silas. Anselm hadn't smoked out of the gas mask before, so Cotl made sure that he would explain before passing. Cotl had repacks the bowl and passed it to his golden friend. Zhis big hole ist de carb. -FUCKING CHEAP SHIT-Hit it like ein bowl. Dough, make sure de mask is suctioned on your face. the male explained, nodding his head as he let his friends experience the mighty gas mask.

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Lolita Monroe · 04-27-2010, 12:51 PM

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-is late- ^_^; Yay 4/20 thread! x00+ words.

Lolita knew very little of human traditions and holidays, and that did extend to her having no knowledge of what an important day this was to the humans who had smoked the marijuana she had come to rely on to keep her body moving through what she had realized was a very desolute world without someone beside her. The creamy Dahlian had met with Anselm recently and had come to terms with the fact that the war had become personal just because of her home and loyalty, but she now knew that she could still call Anselm a friend. She was slightly reluctant to do so, however, despite the war being over, just as she was reluctant to call Kaena a friend once more. She was too young, mentally, to understand that the war had been necessary. It was unfortunate, but it would likely take her a bit longer to come to terms with everything that had happened on both sides of it.

Considering the fact that the day was not special to her in the least, Lolita was very surprised to be practically assaulted by the scent of burning herbs long before she could actually see the gathering. Though she had been on her way to her house in the city, Miss Monroe veered in a different direction, curious about the heavy scent in the air. What she found was surprising—a very large gathering indeed, marijuana burning everywhere, and not only did she see some she had smoked with before (Rurik and Anselm, specifically, and she had met Razekial), but she saw others, including... Conor? That certainly came as a surprise to her, as she had not pegged her new alpha male as the type to mingle with a crowd like the one gathered here. The petite woman let her left hand fall to sit on the leather bag hanging at her side, raising her right in a small wave, saying almost timidly, "I hope I'm not interrupting anything."

Lucia Cabriel · 04-27-2010, 06:33 PM

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WC 588.
Ah, my god! This post sucked! Sowwi. -.-

Halifax. The beautiful disaster of urban lifestyle. Vines crept over desolate buildings, and trees sprung out from broken rooftops. The air was sweet today, almost silent. There appeared to be nobody around, and though Lucia was not particularly social, it was a minor disappointment considering how her last trip here had turned out. Treading carefully in the dust of the roads, clouds of dirt firing into the air as each step hit the ground, her malachite eyes traveled steadily over the horizon. Thoughts wandered wearily over Haku; the demon who had belittled her before, and made her world turn upside down. A small growl erupted from the pit of her stomach, but it was mere seconds of anger – she was too placid to care.

Pacing steadily, one arm attached to the strap of her bag, which was slung loosly over her shoulder, she blended perfectly with the shadows. Her ebony pelt shimmering in the occasional spark of light that crossed her path; she didn't feel like brightness today. Lost in thought, it was not apparent to the female that she might in fact have company. The muffled voices nearby not entering her mind with any concern; she just wanted to drink her Jack Daniels, smoke her cigarettes and contemplate a myriad of things which simply just did not matter in her life. It was boring, perhaps, but at least it prevented trouble. However, trouble had a habit of following her around, thus she doubted today would be any different.

Flicking her tassel behind her as she walked, a banner of her inability to care at the moment, she stopped slowly. Her hackles flickered on her spine, and her lip curled momentarily. Listening, statuesque in appearance, she contemplated whether the gathering of voices were friend or foe. Standing there, silent, it became apparent that she was in no danger. Sniffing the air, she smiled to herself and chuckled lightly. The scent of drugs rang out, mixed with the beautiful taste of alcohol. Her mind raced, and she felt herself begin to walk again. It was like some kind of trance. Fiddling with a side pocket, the female pulled out a cigarette as she walked. Pursing it between her lips, she searched briefly for her lighter and sparked the end. Inhaling deeply, the smoke traveling down her throat like water. Relaxed, she slowly strolled into the clearing – her jade coals skimming over the crowd.

“Hey all,” she breathed calmly, the cigarette still grasped between her ebony lips. “What's going on? A party?” A grin sprung onto her face, eyes alight with a cheeky glow. Slinging her bag to the ground before her, she bent down and undid the button which fastened it shut. Looking up at everyone, she inhaled again on the nicotine-stick, and wondered when or if anyone would speak. Putting her hand into the main section of the bag, she chuckled lightly and pulled out a handful of narcotics; whatever that was required, she pretty much had in her hand. She traveled her gaze over each one, waiting for a reaction. The cigarette burning and smoke traveling around her crown like a halo. Placing the pile of illegal products on the floor, she then pulled out her trusty bottle of Jack Daniels – slightly less in it than usual from her visit from Razekiel. Sitting it also on the dirt, she rose back to a stand and waited, smoking slowly and silently, waiting and watching – was she welcome?

“...I come in peace...”

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Conor Soul · 05-10-2010, 09:04 AM

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300+, Skipping Anna!

Gratitude was the prominent emotion present within those lavender orbs as his Russian friend’s words carried warmth and the invitation to join the party. While he had been an active part of the war, Conor had never outright harmed anyone during the war. Violence was not an answer he cared to use when there were other ways to deal with issues. Haku’s war had been a burning mistake from day one, and though he thought he sensed resentment in the tensing atmosphere, he knew they judged him wrongly. A golden Inferni woman with a nervous gaze arrived and he was sad to see how she seemed to shed away from his form. There was no doubt that she felt uncomfortable in his presence. Lavender eyes sought out her golden orbs; tried to comfort her as they so often comforted others.

Conor was offered a seat and more canines arrived, and he took care to acknowledge them all with a welcoming glance and an accompanying nod. A smile even appeared when a Dahlian unexpectedly arrived, and now with the group consisting of a good mix of packs. It was always good to lessen the chances of being murdered. Nah, the young wolf believed in peace and chose to believe in Inferni a last time. No blood had been spilled after Haku’s departure and Conor’s trip to Inferni, and he trusted it to stay that way. He thought himself fortunate to be a part of this odd little gathering, as the bonds of friendship was endlessly better than those of hatred and blood.

Feeling a bit shy for once, he remained silent, but turned to the hybrid Zero and listened intently as he shared the information of how to use the bong that was being passed around. Okay, so this was that kind of party. He listened to Rurik’s speech and the occasion. It was quite a coincidence that so many had managed to turn up at this particular day. Golden air turned to rest against his cinnamon and gold mane and his gaze moved to Rurik for a moment to see if his friend too remembered how Conor’s first meeting with cannabis had been. It could have been worse, of course, but Conor had felt embarrassment whenever he thought of Rurik and his little boat.

He followed Anselm’s instructions, and a few heartbeats after sucking in the harsh smoke, he could feel the numbness setting in between layers of cotton around his brain. He fought against the immediate urge to cough; his lungs burning, but he did his best to hide exactly how newbie he was with this. Deciding to take it easy and slow, he handed it back to Anselm with a grateful smile and a ”Thanks”.

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Rikka de le Poer · 05-11-2010, 01:52 AM

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500+

___Rurik's loud pronouncement of the women arriving did help to lighten the mood a little, but she was still nervous. Uneasily she glanced at the Dahlian, who was sitting on the other side of Rurik from her. He caught her gaze, and she saw no hostility or hatred there. She didn't see the spark of madness and darkness that had been so prevalent in the cold blue eyes that had haunted her for months on end. Her lips twitched in a small effort to smile, but her gaze fell back to her lap, fingers twiddling with her bag. All she needed was a nice big hit, then she'd be able to calm down. The Inferni members would stop anything from happening, and he didn't seem like a danger. Someone came in quickly after her, and while she hadn't laid eyes on him before, she knew immediately it was her half-brother Razekiel. Both Anselm and her mother had told her that they marched to a similar drumbeat and she smiled back at him, glad to be around him in this sort of setting. Nothing like this would ever happen in the clan.

___Once again Rurik jovially commanded their attention and made his grand speech about what today was and what it meant. She had spent her last 420 in The Haight and it had been a wild day. She honestly hadn't expected to be celebrating it in such a large group here. The feel of this gathering was markedly different than the commune one, but where there was herb there would be a good time. Her Russian friend dropped back onto the couch and she giggled at him, taking the large blunt he passed to her. Bringing it to her lips she inhaled deeply and held it in her lungs for a good long time before breathing the smoke back out. The hit was accented with a short cough, but she was very used to the burn. Immediately she felt her nerves float away and she leaned back onto the soft couch, a lazy grin upon her face. Rikka held the blunt out to the next available toker, ready to see where this night would take them all. Turning her hazy gaze to Rurik, she asked, "Man, when'd you put this all together? This is great, just what the doctor ordered." She needed a night to let loose and stop being so worried.

___Not too much later two other women arrived. One that was from Dahlia as well, with bright fiery red hair. Her worries of Dahlia de Mai had vanished with her large hit, and she grinned over at the intriguing woman. "There's no interrupting on a day like this, we're all here to celebrate sister!" This was what she missed, bringing all sorts of people together to just smoke and have a good time. These lands could use a bit more of this sort of thing if you asked her. The other female didn't carry any pack scent it seemed, and a cigarette hung out of her mouth. She had apparently brought some other things with her, but honestly Rikka was only interested in the pot. It was 420 after all, today was about mary jane, not anything else.

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Silas Agata · 05-12-2010, 04:42 PM

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Hihihi. Sorry I was late. Also, there are turkeys gobbling outside my window as I wrote this reply, only making everything extremely more hilarious. +5

The invitation he would take openly of course, though Silas couldn’t help but frown at his father’s teasing words. He was an adult after all, having seen his first birthday pass over six months prior. The look he gave his father was disapproving, but of course he too was only playing. He had situated himself on one of the couches, and watched silently as others seemed to filter in from the streets to gather at their mess of old furniture and pot.

Anselm wordlessly handed Silas a bowlpiece and a lighter and the Russian accepted it in silence. He held both in his palms for a moment, letting his cool gaze travel over the expanding crowd as Rurik seemed to direct everyone to a seat. After a moment, the boy dropped his head and brought the glassware to his mouth. With a flick of his thumb, the flame sought the dried leaves and curled into the bowl. The soft crackling of the burning leaves was accompanied by the sweet taste of smoke as Silas released the carb and inhaled to achieve the lovely haze. After one hit, he held the bowl out, passing it along to Razekiel, who had just arrived.

His attention then was directed at his father again, who spoke about their reason for gathering here. A slight smirk caught the boy’s features, feeling a sense of pride in his father for knowing this information and for putting something like this together. A slight head nod in his father’s direction let him know he was proud to be here with him and all these other souls, participating in a leisurely smoking session.

It wasn’t too long after that though that more faces begun to show up. Silas offered Anselm a nudge in the side, before rising from his seat on the couch. "Let us grab another for zhem," and he and Anselm walked off towards the furniture store. Instead of taking one of the loveseats designed for only two to sit, Silas pointed towards another couch big enough to fit three more bodies. "How about zhis," he said, moving over towards one end of it. With Anselm at the other, the two men both managed to hoist the couch into the air and carefully march it out into the seat.

"Vatch yourselves," Silas warned as the two men circled around the group and set the couch down on the last remaining side of the configuration. Once he and Anselm pushed the couch forwards some, the collected group had formed a nice little square, complete with a small table in the center. Satisfied with their seating, Silas and Anselm both retook their seats and motioned for the others to be seated on the fourth couch. "Seet, seet," Silas instructed with his accent flowing heavily over his words. He accepted a blunt that had made it’s way to him, took a long, deep drag, and then passed it along to the next person. Exhaling, Silas could already feel the marijuana taking its effect, and was particularly pleased with his decision to scour Halifax today.

Lucia Cabriel · 05-25-2010, 05:55 AM

WC: 312.
Probably one of the worst posts I've ever written; my apologies. Just thought I would keep things moving along. :]

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Taking a seat within the group, Lucia smiled calmly. The sweet scent of intoxication clung to the pelt of everyone present, and she felt like it could be somewhere she belonged. “So, how is everyone?” she growled lightly, extending her arm to grab one of her joints. Pursing it between her lips, she lit the small stick and inhaled deeply. “Oh my! That’s good!” she remarked to herself, not particularly directing the speech to anyone, but did not mind if somebody responded.

Curling her obsidian legs underneath her, sitting almost as though a Buddha would, she leant back on one of her hands; the other tightly locked onto her cigarette. The scar on her eye wrinkled with each inhalation; it’s shade of pale pink blending nicely with her shimmering black pelt; it mixed well with viridian coals, and she was a perfect blend. Just like her joint.

With glassy malachite eyes, she dreamily observed the other party-goers. “So what are your names?” she was curious, and it was better than silence. Plus with the drugs kicking in, she would slowly talk more and more – until someone told her to shut up, that is. Then she would sulk, and that was a sorry sight indeed. She prayed it wouldn’t come to that. It would be annoying.

Taking a few more drags, smoke surrounding her like a twisted halo and shooting from her nostrils like a dragon’s fire, she clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth. She tasted like an ashtray, but it didn’t matter. She didn’t plan on kissing anyone, so why would it? She enjoyed the taste personally, thus who cared. Reaching to her left, she held out the home-rolled joint to anyone who wished to take it. “Help yourself,” she smiled with almost a cloudy look to her facade. She was on her way to happiness. “Anyone for Jack?”

Rurik Russo · 05-26-2010, 10:13 AM

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624

The ashen-hued canine was interested to see the device Cotl had brought with him; it was an intriguing thing, of course, and his bright blue eyes widening as the man spoke, his words laced with curses. He did not understand why the mask was “fucking cheap shit” or why it needed to be declared as such so loudly, and he shot a sidelong glance at Anselm, who merely grinned and rolled his shoulders in a shrug, mouthing the word Inferni as if that explained everything. And in a way, it did.

“Zhis something I just throw together, you know? No beeg,” he said nonchalantly toward Rikka. It was not as if he had cooked a feast for them all—although perhaps he should have, considering how hungry they would all be in a few moments. Another familiar face entered the circle, and Rurik was more than pleased to see this woman—her russet-colored hair was unmistakable, and he fondly recalled the Halifax night they'd spent together. “Lolita! I am so very glad to see you again,” he declared, nodding at Rikka's sentiment. “Vhat Rikka said goes!” he said, pointing out the golden-hued woman.

Before long there was another joiner to their midst, and Rurik's bright blue eyes looked upon the sable-furred stranger with interest, noting her shadowy fur and her lime-colored eyes. She was pretty, with dark hair framing her face, and she seemed rather confident, eager to join them. He grinned broadly and waved her over. “Velcome! Here you are!” he said, greeting her with a rolled joint someone had thrust into his hands moments before. “Come on over,” he said merrily, always glad to have another face. Anselm and Silas grabbed a couch for their new faces, and he was glad to see his son so cordial and tidy with his manners. Silas had been a good kid, and he was growing up into a fine man. Rurik certainly would never hold it against Silas for indulging himself once in a while.

His attention remained on Conor and Lolita, and how they interacted with the Infernians, but there did not seem to be any further tension. Everyone seemed to understand that this was a day for celebration, and with the war already over, there was no reason to continue to fight. The sable-colored woman spoke again, seeming quite comfortable in their midst. Rurik was glad to see this, and he grinned at her question. “Baking, baking, baking,” he commented, grinning broadly at this little joke. “I am Rurik. And for yourself?” the silver-shaded man said. Anselm piped up with his own name from the corner, though the man seemed particularly drowsy now—he had been complaining that he needed a nap, and it would seem the drugs were steadily taking their effect on him, drawing him into unconsciousness slowly. A few moments later, Rurik looked over and Anselm was sound asleep, his head propped up in his hand still. He grinned at this, and took a moment to stand up once more.

“I just say zhis, and zhen I shut my beeg mouth and we have fun. Zhis guy,” he said, motioning to Anselm with a long finger. “Zhis guy has zhis stuff, when you need eet. He trade, always fair. Zhis is part of vhat ve smoke now,” the werewolf said, wishing to give his friend a shout-out even if he had fallen asleep. It would be helpful to Anselm, Rurik knew. After this he grew more quiet, settling back down to the couch to figure out the mask contraption that someone had shoved at him. Eventually he got it, and strapped it on over his face, drawing smoke from it after some amount of difficulty in figuring out its mechanisms.

Cotl · 05-31-2010, 03:30 AM

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People. And a lot of them. Two other woman had pulled up. Cream and red, the other, coal. Cotl nodded his head in a silent greeting to each woman. He noticed the smell of the crimson woman was of Dahlia. That makes two and three. Cotl kept the thought in the back of his mind, the buzzing of the chemicals reacting with the THC of the herb getting in the way, and him actually wanting to be at least nice on this day of celebration of the smoker's holiday. Silas and Anselm got up and got another couch for the two woman to be seated. Cotl grunted lightly, not bothering to move from his spot other than to pack the bowl again when it came back to him, or to grab a joint that was being passed and so on and so forth. The woman who came in late had asked for names. Bi-colored orbs fell on the woman. The Imaginifer twitched his neck to the right before he was able to speak. Cotl Ulrich. Cotl took a blunt that was passed to him, took two tokes from it, and then passed it on to the next person.

Rurik spoke, and Cotl turned his head to the Russian. Cotl held a small smile on his maw, too stoned to frown like normally. Oh, ja. Anselm does had dis stuff. Und his trades are fair, from experience. -NYEH- he spoke, him having to pause because of a twitch in his shoulder. I traded ein Tattoo for some, ja, ja. the stoned male went on, smile growing on his face. Another blunt came past him, Cotl's bi-colored eyes going to the end of the stick before he looked over to Rurik, whom seemed to be trying to figure out the gas mask. Right when Cotl was about to explain, he figured it out himself. So he didn't need to.

Cotl went on and hit the blunt that he had in his hands before again, passing it on to the next person. Und if you ever have anyone vho vants ein tattoo or piercing, I'm your mann. the male spoke, looking to Silas, and then to the sleeping Anselm, two of his customers that were present.

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