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The After School Grind (Open!)
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Post by Deleted on Nov 8, 2013 1:57:00 GMT -5
Patrick Radke had been walking through the streets of the village for some time now and it was quite obvious that he was looking for somewhere to go, somewhere where it would be easy to keep his ear to the ground and hear more about the goings on of the port town. Eventually he came to the Tavern, right eyebrow slowly lofting, a place like this would be perfect to do what he was planning on, he could keep his ear to the ground and possibly even read a bit out of the heavy book beneath his arm titles 'The Complete Collection of Edgar Allan Poe'. He nodded conformation to himself and walked up to the door of the place, entering quietly. He checked the sun before he entered and, as such, he figured it was about five o' clock in the evening.
As he entered the place his right eyebrow lofted at the scene of the place, he smiled as though he truly, really wanted to be there at that exact moment and moved over to an open table in the corner of the room. Patrick quietly sat down and set his book down on the table, he smiled to himself. It had been quite the eventful couple of weeks, what with his arrival to the island and the obtaining of his job. He had checked the dossier of other teachers and was quite surprised to find that he was one of the youngest ones, but he didn't mind, in fact he liked it. As he pondered this his eyes flicked around the room not finding much, other than a small table with four men at it, all large and burly, all loud and belligerent. They were perfect for his current self assigned task.
Patrick looked down at himself as a sudden silence fell over the small group of men. Patrick took this time to actually look down at himself and see if what he was wearing was actually something he would wear back home on one of his rare days off, and he was happy to see that it indeed was. He was wearing dark jeans that bunched up slightly over the tops of his dark grey Vans, and a plain black tee shirt. He smiled to himself and propped his elbow up on the book that sat on the table, his fingers running through his hair.
A loud voice called from the middle of the Tavern, directed at him, although it was not obvious at first.
"Hey you... You with the book... Hey!"
Eventually Patrick's attention was caught and he looked over, raising an eyebrow at the man, he offered a kind smile.
"Yes?"
The drunk man looked quite pleased that he had gotten the attention of Patrick and he smiled right back at the newcomer of the Tavern. The pleased face soon turned to a smug grin.
"You're a new teacher up at that freak academy, aren't you?"
Patrick quickly shook his head.
"No, you must have me confused with somebody else. I'm a teacher up at that Academy for gifted young folk. I'm not sure what freak academy you're speaking of, I'm sorry."
Patrick said this in such a way that the man actually looked extremely flabbergasted, he turned back to his group of his friends, all who had the same confused look on their faces, the amount of liquor intake had definitely affected their thinking processes. After a few minutes if pondering and speaking the table stood and left. Patrick stayed frowning though, this was something that he had not expected, but he took it with a grain of salt, albeit now deep in thought at the condescending words thrown out by the drunk man.
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Post by Tempest on Nov 11, 2013 23:29:55 GMT -5
|| Let me know if I need to edit. ||
Kestrel had been at school until relatively late in the day, working on lesson plans and attempting to get things ready. However, her heart wasn't in it and Andras was getting bored. Even with the sun going down at an earlier time every day, she felt absolutely at ease jogging from the school to the village, then taking a circuitous route through Port Albion.
Dusk was creeping in, but Andras's presence allowed her to see through the dark with ease. This had been an issue when she'd first started coexisting with Andras; seeing in the dark meant that her depth perception took a serious hit during the day. By now, she was used to the strangeness of it, but she did sometimes wake up and immediately run into something.
To counterract the chill that would undoubtedly hit when full-dark hit, she wore a dark (with reflective trim) fleece jacket over her gray tank top and matching sports bra, and long, form-fitting running pants that showed off her long legs and trim physique.
By the time she was done running, she had gotten herself completely lost. "Andy, where was the turnoff towards the apartments?"
Hmmm? I wasn't paying attention. Directions for me these days usually mean the difference between sitting next to your left ventricle or your right.
Kestrel sighed at the response and searched her surroundings for a likely place to get instructions, and maybe a glass of water. She licked her lips with a dry tongue and slowed to a walk as she approached a likely spot. A few months ago, the mere mention of a tavern would give her all sorts of uncomfortable feelings. She and her demonic nematode both knew the consequences of her imbibing any amount of alcohol.
She could feel Andy's excitement as she entered the tavern. The characteristic eyeshine of her low-light vision would be the only thing that might indicate her status as Gifted (even honorary Gifted), and she was fairly certain that this establishment was just well-lit enough to make that improbable.
A couple catcalls were tossed her way as she walked in, and she caught snatches of conversation about one of the bar's patrons being some kind of freak, but she effortlessly ignored them, preferring instead to direct her attention to getting a glass of water from the bartender. She wasn't in any rush to get directions, so she leaned against the bar and surveyed the room.
One fellow in particular caught Andy's attention and he said in the back of her head, "He's attractive. Very brooding. Is that your type?" He followed that up with a suggestion that would be completely inappropriate in most company.
Kestrel choked on her water at the unexpected interest in her love life (and the suggestion). After clearing her airways, she concentrated hard and sent Andras a silent reply that had him grumbling into the back of her mind. Once her face no longer burned so much, she moved away from the bar. This guy was sitting by himself and there were comparatively few people at the bar who weren't otherwise occupied. Could he be the freak the guys she passed were talking about? He seemed pretty deep in thought, which might mean that he didn't want to be interrupted. Then again, the best thing to counteract brooding was a good interruption.
She leaned over the table and knocked lightly on the wood so as to not startle the guy too much. "Hey there," she said in an amiable tone, "Are you okay?"
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Post by Deleted on Nov 12, 2013 7:36:58 GMT -5
Patrick had still very much been off in his own world when the woman entered the building, however, as she did, he instantly felt the need to see whom it was inside of the tavern. His eyes flicked to her just as she had begun to examine the room, both of his eyebrows lifted and, while he seemed interested for a few moments, he dismissed the thought of the woman from his mind, still pondering the animosity being had between the men who had been calling him a freak, and those who had powers on the island, namely those who were students. He had begun to draw a finger on the table, smoke trailing along the surface behind the digit, at first, the item drawn looked distinctly like a raven, but it slowly dissipated into a flat blob of smoke. It was at this point when his thoughts were drawn off track once more by the woman. His dark eyebrows quietly lofted, his grey eyes catching the light for a moment as he looked up at her, this time however, he didn't lose interest. A thin smile slowly spread its way across his face, his smile soon turned slightly sad as he thought back to the words.
"Ah, I'm doing just fine actually, thank you. I was simply thinking of something those men who just left had said, something that worries me a bit.."
Patrick laughed and lifted his hand from the surface of the table, the smoke still trailing behind his head for a few moments, leaving a slight curl of acrid-smelling smoke in the undercurrent of even stronger smells in the tavern around them.
"I'd no idea that such animosity existed in Albion, especially towards the students of the school. I just don't get it, I don't know the background behind it quite yet, but it's clear that the people of Albion have a problem with people with abilities of sorts."
Patrick shrugged lightly, tossing the thoughts to the side as he came to his feet, the half smile from before now changing into a full smile as he held out his hand to the woman.
"I'm sorry for not introducing myself before, Patrick Radke, at your service Madame, and you are?"
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Post by Tempest on Nov 13, 2013 22:59:35 GMT -5
Kestrel listened to the man, tipping her head in curiosity. As he spoke, she turned a chair around so she could straddle it, draping her arms over the backrest and resting her chin on them. She watched the smoke around him, but the conversation was much more interesting. One of her eyebrows rose- was he referring to the fellows who were talking about a freak?
She listened carefully, but Andy was rapidly getting over his surprise from earlier.
"Doesn't he read the papers? It's like he lives under a rock."
Kestrel hadn't been in Port Albion very long, but she'd done some reading while waiting for her belongings to arrive and her classroom to be specified. Her moss-colored eyes settled on Patrick's face as she stood up and she shook his hand, her smile mirroring his.
"My students call me Ms. Harris or Miss H. You can call me Kestrel. Your concern for Foresta's students leads me to believe that you... you're employed there? I'm new, so I don't really know anybody beyond the Headmistress and Ms. Harlequin."
She leaned back after the handshake, stretching her shoulders. "It is a bad sign that this village has started developing the same symptoms of social unrest we've been seeing elsewhere. My last city was having talks about forcing Gifteds to wear signs indicating their status. Granted, it was only a couple of the extreme nutcases in suits at the town hall saying this, but it was still pretty alarming." She tapped a finger pensively against her lips, thinking carefully before speaking. "The Port Albion Herald has been an interesting read. I've only read the past few issues, but there seems to be more going on than meets the eye."
Andy grumbled snarkily, "Read the papers? There are missing persons posters outside. He just has to look up."
Kestrel closed her eyes for a couple seconds, her face contorting in concentration as she sent a thought to Andy to tell him to be a little more forgiving.
"I'm a demon, princess. We don't do that sort of thing."
She opened her eyes and asked abruptly, "So... what do you do? What's your subject?"
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Post by Deleted on Nov 15, 2013 13:31:01 GMT -5
"I'll need to start getting the paper delivered to my apartment, I haven't been here for long either, and I simply haven't picked up the paper since I've arrived. And since we're on a somewhat closely related subject... Those missing persons pictures outside. Are most of them children from the academy?"
Patrick frowned heavily at the words that she spoke. He quietly and dissappointedly shook his head, palm pressing down on the table, eyes intent on the woman while she spoke to him. That thought in and of itself sent chills up his spine, he'd heard the radical politicians speaking about entirely segregating gifted and normie communities, but he'd thought nothing of it, nor did a large percentage of the outside population. But he had not played much attention to the news as far as unrest had gone in a very long while. At the question of his position at the school, he smiled. He consistently felt silly announcing what exactly it is that he taught.
"An astute observation that is Kestrel, I am indeed a teacher at the school... I'm the combat instructor and the combat theory teacher, all bundled up into one. And what about you, what is it that you teach?"
As he had begun to drop his guard, he leaned back in his chair, grey eyes continuing to stay locked on Kestrel, the smile creeping down to a constant, slight smirk. He coughed once or twice, and since he had stopped focusing on it entirely, two puffs of acrid smoke spiraled out of his mouth, slowly but surely, the dark substance moved towards the rafters of the place.
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Post by Tempest on Nov 16, 2013 22:00:27 GMT -5
Kestrel sighed, her brow furrowing. "No. The ones about the students often get ripped down. As far as I know, all of the posters currently outside are villagers. With so many of them currently missing, the general paranoia is pretty understandable. Even if it is alarming to witness." There was no doubt about it; she and Patrick had been hired in dark times. She supposed that the recent events sparked the recent spate of hirings. More staff was needed to keep track of the students.
The troubling discussion was interrupted by his verification that he did indeed work for the school. She smiled at this, but her smile faltered slightly at his description of what he taught.
"You really are a hippie at heart."
"I teach... art. And Coexisting." Her tone was faltering, and she leaned back in her seat. She glanced down, but his cough brought her attention back to his face. "Is that your power? That's so cool!" she asked suddenly, excitement brightening her face and clearing away the unease. "Patrick, do you breathe fire or something?!" This was an aspect of the community she felt that she could never tire of, especially since she had grown up as a normal person.
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Post by Deleted on Nov 17, 2013 23:29:39 GMT -5
"People just tear them down? Seriously? There's absolutely no reason for anybody to do that to anybody... That's somebody's child, or sibling."
Patrick shook his head in a disappointed manner, the smoke still dissipating from his mouth from his short little coughing fit. He smiled as she asked him about his power, his head tilting to the right as he shook his head sadly.
"I wish that what I did was as incredible as that, I don't do the whole elements thing. No, what I can do is much different than that, I can breathe and create smoke through my skin and mouth. I can control the smoke to do exactly what I want. Now, if I could breathe and control fire, life would be much more interesting."
As she spoke of her class, he grew a wide grin.
"That's incredible, I wish that I was better at sketching, painting, and drawing. But I lean more towards music and poetry."
He noted the falter in her voice when she heard of what class he taught.
"And don't worry, it's more about self defense than anything."
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Post by Tempest on Nov 18, 2013 21:20:58 GMT -5
Kestrel sighed. "The folk around town think that the missing students are a red herring or something. I haven't really been here long enough to talk to anybody who knows a great deal about what's going on. I just know that there have been a couple of bodies... and the townsfolk think that they're victims of Gifted on normal human violence. At least, that's what I gathered between the newspaper and the mutterings on the street." It was pretty amazing that she hadn't been connected to the school yet, but that was only a matter of time.
She smiled at his description of his power and his assertion that life would be more interesting with the ability to control fire. "Your power is interesting. Can't say I've met a fumamancer before. Fumamentalist? Pyromancers tend to get all sorts of negative attention. Maybe this power suits you better. Gives you the bad-boy vibe without all of the property damage."
"Was that a pathetic attempt to flirt, or are you just really good at awkward conversation?"
Kestrel shrugged, both to dismiss Andy's contribution, and to the topic of general art projects. "I prefer mixed-media, but art is a good outlet regardless of ability or taste. I can imagine that the students at Foresta could use a good outlet."
The art teacher arched an eyebrow at Patrick when he insisted that his class was about self-defense. "I can guarantee you that there will be students in your class who have different expectations. Combat implies a conscious decision to do battle, not a reaction to force. Why not call your class "self-defense" if it's about self-defense? Gifteds have enough trouble without looking for it."
"So much for the flirting theory. You're not going to make any friends in the faculty if you slam their choice in names for their classes."
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Post by Deleted on Nov 25, 2013 21:50:34 GMT -5
((Sorry about the shortness after such a long wait. :/))
"Red herrings? Really? That's entirely foolish, why would anybody want to..."
Patrick's head drooped slightly before it began to slowly shake back and forth, both of his eyes snapping shut. He rubbed his temples quietly, a frown now creasing his features. That is, until she changed subjects and referred to his ability the way that she had. The frown creasing his features changed and became an amused smile.
"You know, I'm not entirely sure if that's something that I would want to go with. Being a "bad boy" is actually something I've tried to avoid against all odds. Though if you wish to look at it like that, it's entirely your choice. And I suppose I am lucky that I won't be constantly dealing with property damage."
At the comment on his class, his head slowly tilted to the right, his left eyebrow slowly lofting high up on his forehead. He nodded quietly to her comment, a look of acceptance coming on his face when he realized that she was correct.
"Don't get me wrong, I'm going to teach them how to fight effectively. Fighting in a defensive way is really the much better way to allow yourself victory. One must learn how to defend themselves well before they may aggress in any sort of real way. But I don't think that I'll have too much of a problem with the transition."
"By the way, if you don't mind me asking, what is your ability? If you have one that is."
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Post by Tempest on Nov 28, 2013 15:30:51 GMT -5
|| It's all good, no worries! ||
Kestrel's eyebrows rose and she took a long drink of her water. She wasn't going to make the headache worse with any more detail. She agreed that it was foolish, but so was hate. And hate was difficult to reason with.
The art teacher was relieved to see a smile replace the frown on her coworker's face. She shrugged. "If there was a vibe you'd want to go for, which would it be? Preppy? Athletic? Stark, professional?" Of course, she was teasing. Despite the black t-shirt and dark vans, he struck her as a fellow who belonged firmly in the 'business casual' category.
A few more patrons entered the bar and she glanced at them absently. They were conferring quietly among themselves, which sometimes meant bad things. Or it could mean nothing at all. Regardless, she silently pointed them out to Andy, who acknowledged them in his usual manner.
"More meat-bags. Duly noted, Mistress of the Obvious."
She held her breath as he took in her comment about his class, releasing it slowly at the look of acceptance. Then he went and proved that he didn't really understand where she was coming from when he talked about victory and aggression. Her nostrils flared and she shook her head. "See, you're describing combat now. I don't think that teaching students to fight, even if it's the second half of a class, is our best bet. Our community is having enough problems reining in the aggression and holding off that of our opposition. The world is an angry enough place- how are you going to keep your students from using their knowledge inappropriately? Normal high schools have problems with fighting. I can imagine that Foresta's fights are all the more dangerous." Her tone was gently challenging- not antagonistic so much as academically interested.
She was unsettled enough by the time he asked his question that it took her a moment to comprehend it. "Pardon? Right. I haven't really been part of the community for very long. I technically don't have powers. Not in the classical sense, anyway." She hadn't had to explain this to too many people yet, especially since she looked pretty normal during daylight hours. "I have a parasite living in me that is possessed by a demon. Our coexistence has allowed me to tap into his ability to see in the dark. Not to mention the prevention of river blindness."
Andy was definitely paying attention now. He clamored for the spotlight and it was beginning to mess with her focus. She didn't even notice that they had other people listening in on the conversation. "He's... a bit of a... uhhh... mess. Ugh, no, this isn't going to work. Andy, I'm going to let you come out. If you start to misbehave, Patrick here has my permission to knock you down a peg. No, you freak, it doesn't count as aggression if he has my consent. Remember incident in Abuja? If you violate my trust, I swear to God-"
She was suddenly silent for a moment and her head dropped onto her arms. A second later, her head snapped up and she grinned at Patrick. The change in her accent was subtle, but her eyes had gone from a mossy green to an owl-like yellow-orange. They also reflected light strangely when Andras tossed her head and laughed. "Oh, it feels good to be in charge of a body that has limbs." He held up Kestrel's arms up and flexed the fingers experimentally. Andras took the glass and downed the rest of the water in a single swig and sighed when he placed the glass back on the table. "How disappointing." The yellow-orange eyes leveled a gaze at Patrick. "I was right about you, though. You are very attractive. My name is- ah, Kestrel calls me Andy. We'd better go with that. Names have power, you know."
He held up the glass and called over to the bartender, "Barkeep! Shot of whiskey, if you please!"
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Post by Deleted on Nov 30, 2013 16:25:31 GMT -5
Patrick laughed softly at the suggestion that there was even a possibility of being a preppy person, his head nodding in a quite serious, no nonsense way at that specific suggestion. He scooted his chair back a bit, right eyebrow slowly lofting as he lifted his feet up on top of the table.
"You know, I'm not entirely sure that any of those words have ever been used to describe me. But I suppose I could be quite preppy if I chose to. However, I don't think that's something I would really strive for. Ever."
Patrick's eyes quietly began to flick around the room as more and more people slid their way into the tavern, his smile faltered slightly at the sudden attention being payed to them. He pulled his feet off of the table and glanced behind him, so as to make sure that there wasn't anybody sneaking up behind him. Satisfied that he was safe from that area of the room, he returned his attention to Kestrel. Patrick sighed softly, of course his co-worker was right, but he simply did the job that he did. There was no way to ensure that all he was going to teach his students wouldn't be misused, but he wasn't going to argue when he knew that she was right. He waved his hand dismissively at the subject.
Patrick seemed to be fully invested in the newest part of the conversation, however. His mouth snapped shut and slowly began to form a smirk as she explained what her ability was. All of it seemed so far fetched, a posessed parasite that gave her night vision and prevented river blindness? It sounded like a lawyer, and something he would promise to a client. This being said, he did believe her entirely, but he wasn't entirely sure how it would work until she seemed to faint. He blinked, and began to move in her direction, until her head snapped up and her eyes changed color. Patrick's jaw locked up as he witnessed this, right eyebrow once more lofting.
"Uhm... "
The now demonized Kestrel then commented on his looks, and Patrick got even more confused at the current situation, the eyebrow reaching record heights, with its partner now following upwards.
"Uhm... Thank you I suppose... Andy? And you don't usually have Kestrel under possession, but a parasite? Like a river parasite?"
Patrick looked over at the barkeep, voice stuttering out a bit.
"Y-yeah. Better make it the whole bottle, and two shot glasses."
His grey eyes now returned to lock eyes with the yellow-orange orbs of Andy.
"If I could ask, why did you take possession of a worm? That's one thing that confuses me. Also, how will Kestrel get back when you're done with.... using her?"
Patrick casually reached over to his poetry book that had been left in the middle of the table. He pulled it towards him and crossed his arms over the top of it, eyes staying locked on the person with him across the table.
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Post by Tempest on Dec 1, 2013 9:01:46 GMT -5
Kestrel smiled, tipping her head forward as Andy listened to Patrick's questions. She had stopped blinking since Andy took over. When she began to talk again, the demon started to use her voice and accent, mimicking her vocal patterns for the most part, even if his language was a little... convoluted. Aside from the eye color, it appeared as though she had returned. "Our proximity allows for minor possession. Think of it as a proxy possession. The matrices of her spiritual plane are connected to the thing living off her, so we are linked as well. Not that I expect mortals to understand." It was a fact to Andras, not an opinion. "Onchocerca volvulus, to be exact. Nematode that infects black flies, which then bite people and animals."
Kestrel's face lit with a wicked smile when Patrick called for two glasses and the bottle of whiskey. "I like the way you think, Patrick. I'm glad to see you aren't a total stick-in-the-mud." The demon-possessed woman waited for the alcohol to arrive, shoulders shaking slightly, before answering the latest questions. After a second's hesitation where her fingers flexed and relaxed anxiously, her hands deftly picked up the bottle and the two glasses, pouring two shots with ease. "I didn't. And that's all you need to know about that. Kestrel will get back when she gets back." The art teacher's shoulders lifted, then lowered in a nonchalant shrug just before she downed the first shot of whiskey.
Andy smirked at Patrick's poetry book and commented, "Gonna have a hard time reading that in here. Wouldn't be surprised if we were interrupted soon." The demon poured another shot and slammed it back immediately. "That should be enough for some free time," Andras said with no small amount of glee. Kestrel's body rose from the chair and she sent Patrick a salute. "Stick to the bad-boy image you're unintentionally cultivating. Brooding and wild is a much better chick magnet than any amount of preppy. If you've got the tab this time, Kestrel will probably pay you back later."
Andy found the way out barred by several gentlemen who had imbibed a great deal of alcohol in a very short amount of time. They were drunk, but they just didn't realize it yet and the confidence that came from a stiff drink also made them bold enough to act on things that very clearly bothered them. "Where do you think you're going, demon?"
Andy sighed with Kestrel's lungs and shook her head. He turned to look at Patrick, saying, "Called it." His attention turned back to those standing in front of Kestrel. "I have every right to walk out of this fine establishment. You have every right to call me what you like, but that will not stop me."
"What makes you think we'll let you run around maimin' people and terrizin' Port Albion? There're townshfolk missin'. Maybe you're the one responshible!" This fellow was three sheets to the wind, and that was certain. Unlike his very well-spoken comrade earlier, he was slurring pretty heavily. One of Kestrel's eyebrows slowly rose, but her smirk didn't falter.
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Post by Deleted on Dec 4, 2013 16:14:06 GMT -5
"Minor possession? I'm not even sure what that means, you seem to be in rather good control of her as is, it's only minor though? I don't believe that makes much sense."
Patrick had downed a single shot by the time the demon-lady announced herself leaving, and he frowned. He came to his feet quickly and grabbed his book and the whiskey bottle. He paused and reached into his wallet, pulling out a twenty and a ten, he tossed it on the table, figuring that would about cover it. After all, the whiskey wasn't exactly high quality in any sense of the word. When Patrick replaced his wallet, he turned to chase the demon down, bottle and book in hand, he was just in time to see the door barred off by the men, causing him to groan deep in his chest. In his mind there was nowhere this was going except for a fight. He shifted the bottle around until he was holding it like a club, acting casual about it as he rolled up beside Andy-Strel.
"Come now, there's no reason for this... Move away from the door and let us go."
As he spoke, he was allowing smoke to roil out of his pores in his hand, just enough to be hard to notice. The smoke was spiraling down to the ground and forming a thin veneer of it all over the ground, he also began to exhale smoke, a small amount at a time.
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Post by Tempest on Dec 4, 2013 20:19:08 GMT -5
Kestrel's eyes rolled. Andy spoke casually, ignoring the men accosting them as he spoke casually. "Have you ever seen full-blown possession? She's ceded control of the body over to me now, yes, but this is definitely not classic possession. Give me pea-soup vomit over living as a nematode any day." He flexed one of Kestrel's hands experimentally, then shook her head in disapproval. Andy looked up in time to have the drunk man shove Kestrel back.
"You're one of the freaksh too! Thisss is unbe-unbeliebable. And you're defrendning the demon!" The drunk man was feeling loquacious. And, apparently, what he was saying made sense to his buddies because one them went ahead and took a swing at Patrick, ignoring the smoke that was beginning to accumulate in the bar. Meanwhile, Kestrel's body regained balance. A grin spread across her face.
"Thank you for making my night." A blur, then, as Andy flung the slight form at the drunkard.
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Post by Deleted on Dec 13, 2013 22:22:46 GMT -5
Patrick at this point had been thrown into action. As the fist was thrown at his face he swayed slightly backwards, allowing the hand to pass harmlessly right in front of his face. He now decided to choose a weapon, so as to press an advantage. He looked down at the whiskey he had planned on using like a club, and scowled. He tossed the bottle to the side, muttering softly about it being a waste of good whiskey.
All of this had occurred in the span of a second, his second hand gripped the large poetry book he had been carrying. It was about the same size and weight as the average school textbook. His hips pivoted as he finally went on the offensive, the book swinging fast and hard towards the mans head. Simultaneously he began to control the smoke he had allowed into the room, sending small cyclones of the black, acrid smelling smoke to the noses and eyes of his and Kestrels aggressors.
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Around this time Avery had been walking down the streets of Albion in the general direction of the Academy, when she ran into a group of drunk men, speaking of freaks in the tavern. She rolled her eyes immensely at the entourage and continued on her way, however, she did not go unnoticed by the beady, wandering eyes of one of the group, who broke off away from the group, following after her.
Avery noticed this and increased her speed, coming near the smoking door of the Tavern. Just then, her pursuer had grabbed on to her shoulder and began to twist her around, she pivoted with the forced twist and her arms glowed a bright white color, she delivered a punch to the chest of the man. The force behind the blow, with the added umph of her ability sent him flying and crashing into the door of the tavern, creating a loud noise on both sides of the door.
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