anton

Who: Brian and Anton
Where: Phonishness
When: Midday

The morning news had been good: what better a birthday present than the announcement, however tentative, that the rein of nightly terror was over? Brian actually felt like he could relax a little, maybe even celebrate a bit. He had a feeling that his birthday party would be a bit happier than a cook turning forty could actually account for, given that news.

Who: Brian and Anton
Where: Anton's house
When: 5:15PM

Under normal circumstances, if Anton hadn't shown up on time, Brian wouldn't have been worried. He'd instead finish up the last of dinner, wait another fifteen or twenty minutes, and then call to make sure the poor guy hadn't forgotten. The fact that he was coming over to learn more about a power that understandably frightened him maybe would have called a little earlier to make sure he hadn't just gotten cold feet and decided not to come.

In the wake of the disasters of the night before, though, Brian was too tense to finish dinner and wait fifteen minutes and then call. He'd had dinner done already and when ten-after-five hit, he called Anton's number.

No one picked up.

Brian was out the door five minutes later, dinner stuck under a moisture-confining heating spell, and driving across town far faster than he was wont to, normally, to get to The House of Note in record time.

Who: HUnt and open!
Where: Lower Harbour park
When: Just after dark

Hunt had been out to the store to pick up some groceries and was driving home when he heard it. He didn't like to be out this late - he tried to get everything done before dark and be home, safe in his own house. He wouldn't exactly say he was scared of the dark, but a sense of compulsion stopped him going out at night any more than was strictly necessary. This was a small town, but still - he blamed it on his childhood, that had to be it. But if hadn't gone that way - there'd been some trouble with a woman who was arguing with the cashier and a long cue and it had been darkening as he finally got out of there. Getting Mutt into the car hadn't been easy, then he had to get the groceries placed and it was full dark by the time they set off.

The scream ripped through the night, audible even over the stereo as they drove past Lower Harbour Park. Hunt's first instinct was to put his foot on the accelerator and get the fuck out of there. Someone else could investigate screams - there were police who's job that was. But it was a nice night and he'd had the window down so Mutt could hang her head out and enjoy the breeze and suddenly she was out of the car and racing off into the dark, after the scream.

"Mutt!" Hunt slammed his foot on the break, bringing the car to an abrupt standstill in the road as he called for his dog. Fuck - he couldn't go off without her. He pulled to the side of the road and turned the engine off, grabbing her leash from the back seat before he left the car and headed, slowly, into the park.

He didn't like the dark. Especially not a dark that contained screams. And look - just like a horror movie, right on cue, the scream sounded again, followed by what sounded like a sob. Hunt stopped, wary. "Mutt?" he called again, hoping the dog would run out of the night and they could get the hell out of here.

Nothing.

Then there was a bark in the distance. Then a yowl and Mutt did come running - or rather limping - out of the darkness. Hunt started to back off, ready to turn and run, his adrenaline already pumping as the dog drew level and he did just that. And that was when the laughter started. That cold, hard, hollow laughter that seemed to tell him that he was definitely going to die now. And not necessarily quickly.

Hunt ran, knowing something was chasing him. He tried to judge how far it was to his car - would he make it? He didn't know. But something was chasing him. And it was laughing - enjoying the hunt.

Who: Anton and Brian
Where: le telephone!
When: early afternoon

Rain was such a killjoy. Anton was half-fiddling with the idea of unplugging the telephone, closing up shop, and calling it a day. He had only one brave and unfortunately soggy soul walk in today for an emergency repair—one that had been solved with five minutes, a bit of glue, and a walnut. All the rest of his appointments had chickened out on him, waiting for a drier day to come out of their rain-induced hibernation. Though something more subconscious was leading him to believe it had less to do with the possibility of damp shoes and a lot more to do with what he’d been seeing in the newspaper lately.

Well, perhaps it was for the better this time. He didn’t need clients slopping all over his nice carpets, after all.

Who: Anton and Harper
When: Afternoon
Where: Nevermore Books

Who: Alejandro and Open!
Where: The lakeshore
When: Midday

After having slept through Jezebelle's heading off to school this time-- thank god; it was way too early to be up without a reason-- and before having to head off to work for the afternoon and evening, Alejandro decided he'd make another attempt at hunting down Melia. One of these days, he'd get her a cell phone, or something. That... worked underwater. Hell, there had to be some way to track down mermaids, right? Somehow. He'd think of something.

Until then, he just walked along the water, hoping idly to run into her and not someone else, or not run into anyone at all. It wasn't raining anymore, but the clouds still hadn't cleared and the wind was making the lake pretty wild-looking. It was, he thought, a pretty nice day.

It'd be even better, though, if that stupid toy block hadn't wound up in his pocket on his way out the door. Alejandro still wasn't sure why he'd picked the damn thing, paid money for it, and then brought it home and mostly ignored it except, occasionally, to toss it boredly around like a Nerf ball, or something. But now it felt like it was burning a hole in his jacket pocket, especially when he kept his hands in them to keep them out of the wind and his fingers kept bumping into or curling around it on accident. That thing sure better be worth the embarrassment of buying it and then carrying it around, whatever it did.

((OOC note: Alex here has the psychic block on his person, which means anyone nearby, maybe within a five-foot radius, has to start speaking their thoughts aloud instead of in their head. No internal monologue for you! =D ))

Who: Brian and Anton
Where: Anton's place
When: A little after six

Though Brian was usually pretty on-time-- not early, usually, but certainly not late-- rain had a way of fucking with his schedule. He'd gotten out the door in plenty of time to find Anton's, but another of those brief, sudden rainshowers had sent him back in the door for a good ten minutes before he actually got on the road. He just hoped Anton wasn't a horribly punctual sort of person.

Finding the place wasn't hard-- it looked very Anton-y, and the sign was, indeed, hard to miss-- and he came up the walk thankfully during a lasting dry spell, shifted the grocery bags he'd brought onto the same arm, and knocked lightly.

Who: Anton and Eury
Where: Stone Eye Antiquities
When: noon-ish

It had been a while since Anton had wandered around this part of town. He’d left the house to peek around where the tents were being set up for the carnival—out of part curiosity, part romantic hope that he would recognize something from his own days in his troupe—and now he had nothing better to do than to go back and finish repairs and tackle paperwork and deal with griping clients. Business had been all but exciting this morning; what a lure that was. What a joy. What a thrill. He could hardly stand it.

Who: Anton, Jericho
Where: Random Curios, at the corner of Lynn and Fair; then to Anton's home
When: Just after nightfall, Tuesday 8/28/2007

Well-fed but restless, Jericho struck out to explore. Despite the fact that he'd been in Marquette for nearly eight weeks, he still hadn't seen a great lot of it. He'd heard that this little northwest section was interesting, on the quaint side. A popular diner, an interesting used book store, and the establishment Jericho was now entering. Random Curios. From the proprietor's name in the Yellow Pages listing, he was Russian, at least in heritage if not by birth. Starved for something that reminded him of home, his youth—his life—the blond stepped up to the counter.

"Hello," the doctor spoke in his native tongue, hoping. "I'm looking for books on the Romanov's, pre-Bolshevik era. Pictorials, preferably."

Who: Anton and Brian
Where: Mya’s Diner
When: late afternoon

Anton was wholeheartedly determined to make this trip out the shortest ever. Just grab a quick dinner, and then head back to work, he mentally told himself as he nudged the door of the diner open, staring thoughtfully at his shoes. Right, right.

… all right, so, as of yet, he wasn’t winning any record-breaking ribbons. That ‘oh, it will take just five minutes’ peek into the corner bookstore hadn’t really taken five minutes. But blast it, that had been a good book. Hour well spent, if he did say—er, think so himself. Even if he had more work to finish in a week than he could possibly squeeze into the remaining one hundred and sixty-seven hours.

Who: Alejandro and Anton
Where: About town, near Mya's Diner
When: Late morning

After stopping by most of the bars he knew, Alejandro was starting to get discouraged. Or maybe desparate. The one he'd been fired from had apparently been spreading the news as to why, and each one he'd been to so far-- that had been open, anyway; he'd have to come back later, for one-- had turned him away without even letting him show off his credentials. Not that he had many.

So he was on his way to one of the last ones on his not-terribly-long list-- you could only fit so many places to get drunk into a small town like Marquette-- before he started lowering his standards and looking into restaurants with bars inside or, god forbid, something not alcohol-related. He paused just long enough on the way to give a very sour look to the diner with the angel on the sign. He kind of hoped this last bar turned him down, too, if just so he wouldn't have to walk past the happy little place with its wings and halos every day on the way to work.