#fengforhire

[diamondfeng]

🕯️- jac

Jac? She's my little sister, and I love her even if we don't always get along. I mean, that's how siblings are, right? All of us Fengs. We were honestly closer when we were younger and things were simpler. But she and I are far enough apart in age that I'm focusing on bigger pictures like my career and relationships. But that doesn't mean Jac doesn't have her own important things going on too... Anyways. Sometimes I just have to wonder why her element is air. Or why she of all people got the affinity there. I guess it suits her, mostly quiet and unseen. On the one hand, yes, I'm a bit jealous. But I love my earth magic. It's just... frustrating to have her trying to teach me when she's still learning everything herself, you know? And I'm sure she'd rather not be wasting her time trying to explain things to me. She probably should have had a more common element if she was going to be such a late bloomer, it's just another one of those ways it's hard to connect with her. But still, Jac will never not be family. For better or worse. I think that will always be important. I want Jac to be happy. Even if we get compared to one another a lot despite our elements being pretty much opposites.

[howlonwheels]

closed stater for: @fengforhire where/when: Hawthorne Plaza

Lotta commotion lately in Port Leiry -- but wasn't there always? There's only so many 'animal attacks' Arleen can nod and sigh about with her coworkers, as they mutter and grump about the park rangers not doing their jobs and all that. A good old case of suspected 'teenage vandalism' is a relief, but not when the search for evidence turns up cold. Weren't nothing but the wind and some rockslides. But the wolf knew better.

Arleen brought her wheelchair to a stop next to a bench in one of the fountain plazas of Hawthorne and waved down the young witch she'd been hoping to talk to. "Jacqueline Feng, right?" Admittedly, she'd pulled up a file on the girl, making sure she had her facts right before she approached in the first place. (Next to nothing but the basics, this girl was cleaner than a bar of soap fresh from the factory.) "Your sister Danielle works in City Hall, yeah? Mind if I have your ear a minute?"

[kannivalistic]

Valka's not as fast as she could be -- the aging hunter would never say as much out loud. And it goes beyond the Masquerade, to the haloed edges of her Fellowship tattoos. Her Brotherhood ink forms a strong base but over the years, the other magical marks she's acquired by various means don't always have the finesse and fortitude of others. She has healing, monster detection, and others -- but that doesn't matter much right now. Not when the vampires have torn her ranks to shreds, the werewolves have chewed up and spit out her son, and the witches have suddenly found their spine. And she's been up all night long.

It's why these girls even had a chance to draw a fucking breath after Valka found them. And it's why she now finds herself being caught off-guard by these two baby-faced elementalists, one water and one... throwin' fuckin' pocket-sand at the hunter.

"Aaauuugh!" Valka roars, firing off another shot as she swings her gun arm, snapping her eyes shut. "You fucking serious?" Her natural eye wells with tears and she can feel the grains scratching her as she tries to blink out the irritants. Her false eye fares only slightly better, but the tender, scarred flesh around the insides of her eyelids twinges painfully. Even blinded, Val tries to keep her stance wide and ready to catch either girl as she runs past.

Only, her stability isn't long for the world as a thin sheet of ice catches her funny and she slips on it like it's a goddamn Looney Tunes. The hunter pries her eyes open but Graver's Isle is a gray mess of haze and pain. Her cry of pain turns into a full-chested laugh as she struggles to stand, her prosthetic leg having a hell of a time on the slick frozen ground. "Unbelievable! You mystic bitches have all the power in the world and you're throwing sand. If I wasn't gonna do it for you, I'd say you cunts should kill yourselves and save us the waste of time and effort."

She's exhausted, she's sloppy, and she knows it. But Valka will claw her way into minds if she has to. "Fahck," she spits again, still blinking away the pain in her eyes. The hunter holsters her gun and grabs two thin, steel daggers, lobbing one in the direction of the sand-throwing small-fry she hasn't had the pleasure of meeting -- or torturing -- just yet.

@fengforhire @rimedancer

Jac staggers forward as Jenny does, leaning over the corpse of her dead wife. Her eyes well with tears, both from the grief of losing her cousin and the awful stench that her body has created. It is a grotesque depiction of everything that has gone wrong and Jac silently whispers a prayer to her ghost, apologizing that they didn't come sooner.

She loops Jenny's arm over her shoulders and begins to help her out of the cell. They manage to get halfway down the hallway when Jenny screams out a warning and a gunshot deafens Jac temporarily. She thinks she may have also screamed in surprise, even though her ears are ringing too loudly to tell.

The woman's voice is coldly furious, and Jac is rethinking every decision that brought her to this moment. She wonders how many people will say 'I told you so' if she dies here tonight? How devastated will the coven be, not because they've lost her, but because they lost her magic?

Jac slowly shifts to step in front of Jenny. "When I give the signal, you run and you keep running until you get to the water," she says under her breath. Her magic is there, just under the surface and Jac prays to every deity that's ever existed that it doesn't abandon her tonight. She reaches back and feels the air rushing to meet her hands and she whips her hands upwards to send a spray of sand flying into the hunter's eyes.

"Run!" She shoves Jenny ahead of her towards the door, hoping that her distraction last long enough to at least throw off the woman's aim.

[nadiaholme]

closed for: @fengforhire

What possessed her to come to the roller rink, she had absolutely no idea - but here she was, a few bucks down the drain while she tried to tie her shoes and pretend she knew what the hell she was doing. The last time she went skating was years ago, and she'd had to sneak out of the house for that.

The memories made her feel tight and stiff in a way that she knew was not conducive to actually skating.

Too lost in her own thoughts that by the time she made it out to the actual floor, she was already about to collide with someone near the edge of the wall. Catching herself, and them, she couldn't fight the panic in her voice.

"Oh - Goodness, gracious - I'm so sorry, hon, are you okay?"

[sunshincwitch]

Closed starter for @fengforhire

Location: Brewed awakening

Brewed Awakening was the perfect place for a struggling witch desperate to finish their dissertation, earn enough to buy fresh bread on the occasion, and work complex spells to track those effected by horrific curses their family had created when the cafe was quiet. Cham liked to work on the curse between the breakfast and lunch rushes, her brain working best after the first round of espresso and the knowledge that if things got too terribly dark and depressing that they could depend on a rush of customers to distract her.

She was painting a new tracking board, her last one having met an unfortunate end when it spontaneously caught fire, and didn’t even process that a customer had come in until she saw movement out of the corner of her eye. “Shit, sorry be with you in just a moment” she called, muttering a quick spell to keep the ink from drying prematurely, before rushing back behind the counter. “Sorry I’m working with an ink that has acorn, alder and balsam fir as the base. And the acorn and alder are getting around great but the balsam fir really wants to take over and make the pigment yellow, which wouldn’t be the worst thing except it throws off the balance and-“ Cham cut herself off with a start as she realized she was rambling and while she was fairly certain the woman in front of her was a witch she had no idea her practice or realm of influence and could very well just be spouting nonsense to a poor unsuspecting customer. “I’m sorry, I get a bit of tunnel vision when I’m working. What can I get you?”

[birdieofprey]

For: @fengforhire Where: Jac and Lara's Apartment When: Sundown-ish

By the time the sun falls on the day after, her eyes open to a world that feels different. Maybe its the first human blood she's had in years, maybe its the soft bed, which she realizes upon sitting up that she's worked her way off of in the night, pulling herself to her feet from the floor. Her vision's returned, no longer scorched and blurred by whatever vamp mace those two had doused her with; and the pothole in her chest, just left of where it would have been a free trip with the Ferryman, has turned into an ugly pot-hole when she removed the covering.

She checks the aura around the curtains, to make sure it's dark -she's tasted the sun before and it's not an experience to be repeated- before opening them properly.

Birdie finds her bag by the door, and pulls out one of the few sets of clothes she has - they aren't clean but they aren't filthy either, and so by the time she steps out, its bare feet, shredded denim, and a shaker-knit sweater over a tank that makes her look smaller than she is. The apartment's quiet, but not dead quiet, and she feels like an intruder already. There's a not from Lara, breakfast in the fridge, and when Birdie opens it, she sees another bloodpack, staring dumbly at it for moment, feeling the low roar she'd quiet down for the first time in forever last night already starting to lick its chops, but then she shuts the door - no more than needed is as much as she'll have. Before she turns around, she realizes she's not quiet one-hundred percent, because while she doesn't recognize the face, she recognizes the shape of it from last night's fever. Somebody has snuck up on her, when she does turn, it's the younger one from last night.

"Not gonna drink your fridge-blood, don't worry." is what she manages, because saying hello like a normal person seems like a big ask.

[lrivkin]

closed for @fengforhire

As far as Lara was aware, the apartment was empty. She'd asked for some time a few hours ago, and there was no telling when Jac would actually get back. Her, ahem, partner had already been dismissed - not even a little bit drained of his blood.

Unfortunate, that, but - she hadn't wanted to make another mess. Instead, she pads her way to the fridge to grab a blood bag. It sucks when it's cool, so she looks around for a mug to pour it into for a warm treat.

When she turns to do exactly that, she's greeted with the sight of her roommate. "Fuck." Not exactly startled, considering the sound of her heartbeat and the smell of her magic - but still.. it was a bit like Angela showing up beside Dwight. "Christ, I thought you were gone."

[sntsnoialles]

location : hawthorn plaza

time : a hour before sunset

who : @fengforhire

There was a time when a wild girl would run through flower fields, laughter bouncing from her warm chest. If Lilia closes her eyes, she can see the girl dancing amidst the flowers, falling onto the grass to bask in a calm afternoon. She runs free and fast, and although Lilia knows these blonde curls, she doesn't remember being that girl anymore. Many of her kind would disagree, but Lilia knows the truth deeply and harshly on her sore carved ribs; her days of freedom are long gone. She is a creature chained to the bleakness of a life without pleasure, without calmness. The hunger that lingers inside of her is nothing but a curse. She misses the sunlight. Truth be told, a truth one would have to rip from her cold dead hands, she doesn't remember what it feels like, to be touched by the sun, to feel warm. It's been a terribly long time since she hadn't felt nothing but coldness, empty. 

She misses her life. Perhaps it is why she stands here, under a heavy coat, sunglasses, and a black thick umbrella tightly gripped on her hand. The burning that comes from it is the closest she can feel. Life, however, catches her attention, and before long she is moving towards a witch, eagerness making her fingers twitch. "Well, aren't you a pretty one," the words hold no malice in how they are presented, and the woman smiles. "I'm sorry to bother you, but I find myself lost. This place is all trees and very little road, as I unfortunately came to find. Do you know how to leave here?"

[reidhalstead]

For: @fengforhire

Time has escaped him, in the most mundane sense. He's missed shifts at the campus in favour of the shitstorm that's been relentless in its constant determination to knock him back. Between family, sires, masked shows — put him out of his misery; he's dropped a rat to the gutter out the back of the Tideview library. Swallows as disgust fills him (yet, still better a thought than what actually does) as he wipes the remnants of his foul act on the dark sleeve of the security uniform. Tongue laps up the last traces of the bitter substance.

He's off schedule in his perimeter rounds, but he'd known upon dragging a fraternity punk out of a sorority party, that he'd lost grip on his role of watcher. Ripped the student's jacket in the tussle and stared too closely at a throat that meant he'd been neglecting doing something else.

A rodent is as close as he can get, whilst on duty.

He wonders if he needs the job still. If it's actually doing him or the students any good; there's a world out there that claws for more attention than this does.

Yet, footsteps — familiar in their pace, has him rearing around the library, back into the campus lights of the concrete steps to see a witch descending them. Late, as ever. Even later than usual, since he's already made a regrettable pit stop.

He quickly draws down his sleeve, praying he doesn't reek of death and revulsion. It's almost guiltily that he calls out to her, from behind.

"Night owl, there's no way you're really getting out later?" a trying smile, he shiftily brushes out his uniform — briefly catching the staining of red on a cuff. He dismisses it, as best he can and instead chooses to embrace the emotional crescendo that has him pleased that she's still here, studying; it reminds him not everything's gone to hell. "You haven't read everything there is on..." he strains for the memory, "...biochemical impulses..." on something, something. "Respiration; the breathing thing., surely?" Or perhaps, it's been long enough; a habit that they've broken that she's already on the next topic.

[rimedancer]

for: @fengforhire where: Fellowship Turf

Jennifer starts awake out of something that might have been a nightmare, or it it might have just the passing state of being semi-conscious inside of her current reality. She's not sure how long it's been - her only real indicators of how much time has passed is just how much Iris is starting to stink. She's weak because of just how much blood they've stolen from her since they tossed her into this pit. She's pretty sure the only reason she's still alive is because as long as they wait long enough in between she'll just keep making them more. Tseng wonders how many others are here, or if she's just the lucky one. A bug crawls in through the door; scurries across the filthy grit and onto her boot, up the leg of her pants, onto her arm, to her shoulder; It says nothing, but it also says everything. She nods and, eyes resting on Iris' still shape staring it's glass-eyed stare through her from where it lays on its side in the center of the room for a moment; she can't really cry anymore - it's purely biological. But for the moment, she manages one more tear, and the bug, it crawls onto her cheek and as the tear freezes solid, it grasps it in its forearms and flits off - out of the door, through the corridors, up stairs, out a window, and into the sky, just as they've planned. Jennifer's magic on its own cannot reach past the sigils graven into the walls of her cell, but with help, it can be carried past them.

===

where: The Masquerade, just as Markus springs his trap;

As the party goers see the night's festivities devolve into the night's ferocities, a tiny bug alights on the rim of a glass and sets its precious magicked cargo down; a single teardrop that begins to liquifiy immediately, and dry even faster as abandons it's fluid nature and returns to the air.

And there she is; her cousin, who carries the weight of the coven's talents on her shoulders like a heavy mantle, and, perhaps more importantly tonight, will carry the heavy wait of Jennifer's future. Invisible to all others, Jennifer's form stands there, ghostly, like a foggy frost. "Help..." she says when she catches Jac's eye, the link between apparition and bodily form straining what little energy she has.

[flashfanged]

@fengforhire gets a masquerade starter:

They’re leaning against the back wall of one of the balconies. Joint caught between fingers ready to light up, smoke, and hopefully relax. There had been an urge to bring one of the humans out here too. Get them high and have a bit of a drink to curb the hunger that was barely being held back. Perhaps being in such a large crowd still so young was a bad idea, but she knew if it got too bad she could go find Hester. Could go home.

Lighter being slipped from an inner pocket and lighting up. So lost in it that she nearly jumps at the sudden appearance of another. They don’t rush to hide what they are up to, it wasn’t like it was scandalous. Witch. She can smell it wafting in her blood, eyes slip closed to swallow back an urge to feed, before opening again. Fake it until you make it right? “Trying to escape for air?” She asks while pressing out from within the shadows, making herself known as she slips up her mask to not look so intimidating. “Or a break from the crowd? Because for that I have a solution.” the joint is made known, holding it out for the witch. “I’m willing to share if you can handle a bloodsucker. Witches hate us right? I don’t know, I’m still learning the whole rules and regulations section of the dynamics.”

[sntslunas]

jac feng, @fengforhire

He feels utterly out of place in things like this ⸻ before Margot, the closest he would get of a suit was when he stole the cashier of a fancy store. Yet here he stands, lost, unwilling to mingle, watching the crowd and daring himself to catch familiar faces. He doesn't have his glasses now, though, so the task is harder than he expected.

He knows his family ⸻ it still feels weird to have a family ⸻ despite their masks, and it isn't hard to find his baby girl in the crowd.

"Hey, got you a drink," he greets, holding out the glass for her to take. "No alcohol though." She would always be a kid to him. Even if not his, he has always treated her as blood of his own blood. "The food is really good." He takes a bite. "Have you tried it? I wonder if they will let me ask the chef for the recipe." He looks at the waiters, wants to catch their attention. He sighs. "You doing okay, kid? Having fun? Do you wanna dance or something?"

[anikabooker]

closed  — @fengforhire

She'd only swallowed up her pride for a temporary bed and a shower that actually worked. Anything less than that would send her packing in a second. Not that Lara would ever mind, having her out of her hair — this was probably as uncomfortable, as it was for Anika. Yet, the other had always seemed brave enough to remain in her close circle, swoop in and pull her from impending doom, unlike the hunter who'd gladly watch her burn in the sun and barely move a muscle to help.

The vampire be damned.

As if slapped across the face by karma, not a drop escaped from the faucet. Anika banged on it slightly, and jiggled the handle to no avail. A frown crossed her features, as she stomped out of the room. A towel wrapped around her, one bottle of shampoo in one hand, as the other knocked on one of the doors.

The sun had already set, and so Anika only assumed her unlikely ally wouldn't be home. it was probably the one with all the herbs laying around that she was bothering at that hour.

Once the door creaked open slightly, she began, "There's no water." a beat, "Anyone we can call about that?"

[kingofthehunt]

( @fengforhire -- the outskirts of a forest late, in the evening )

Sun kisses his skin as he waits.

Sometimes Elias has routines, habits, down to the core. Knows exactly where his victim will be on a Thursday night at 12pm. Knows where their parents, friends, care, pets will be. Those are the victims he goes for if he's tired -- if he just wants a calm getting rid of a problem.

Witches like Jac are something entirely different. She's seemingly boring, nothing special. Nothing strong, nothing too crazy. He doesn't deem her someone that would try and scratch his eyes out in a last matter of defense, but he expects her to give him at least a little fight. Maybe some begging? God knows. And Elias will.

What's the pointe?

That maybe, he's been entirely wrong.

Elias doesn't settle for the quick talk before the act this time. Instead he just carefully positions the already picked out stone in his hand, jumps down from the lower branch of the tree he has been waiting in. His feet hit the ground at the same time the stone hits the side of the witches' head, and it's discarded as quickly as he appeared. He gives a violent push in the direction of the forest, satisfaction visible on his face.

At least for a moment.

[mariesinfernos]

( @fengforhire -- The Lindon Manor in the evening )

"Can't believe she even got fucking balloons." It's not one of her surprise birthday parties, if it isn't atrociously fire-themed. Marie stares the red, orange and yellow balloons down from where she's smoking on the balcony, until the smoke clouds her vision, and she turns around the face the night. Darkness, her favorite friend, because it ultimately means the absence of light, and therefore, also fire. "God, can she not fucking read the room?", Marie mutters when her mother staggers over to the balcony, rips the door open and fakes a series of coughs.

"Marie! How dare you!", she complains, when her daughter drops the cigarette onto the marble ground and crushes it with her foot, shrugging her shoulders, alongside an Oops. "Are you not enjoying the party? Haven't you tried the cake?", the woman keeps talking, and Marie rubs her forehead with the back of her hand, in an attempt to sooth the migraine, that's rising the longer she hears her mother's voice.

Fighting is not an option, and when she's finally left alone, Marie pops one of the balloons, right next to a wall -- and when it disappears with a Pang, it reveals Jac in her line of view, standing close. "I think she thinks I'm twelve.", Marie points out, while taking one of the firetruck balloons into her hands, and staring at it in disbelief, "I also think she thinks it's funny. Do you think it's funny? Maybe it is funny, and I'm just too bland for this shit."

[cityofruinrp]

@photoaria

@lrivkin

@olivierjacobs

@huntedarte

@fengforhire

@birdieofprey

@autumnshowell