handfulofdust | Recent Entries

Yeah, about that rain. Daniel did not ride the horse into town, or bring an umbrella, raincoat, or much of anything but himself.

He drips in the doorway for a moment or two before peeling off his top shirt and wringing it out. His shoes are beyond all hope of drying until tomorrow, so he wipes them on the disreputable doormat before coming inside and looking for a place to sit.

wither_wilt

Salah has his jacket over his head as he charges into the Wasteland, trips over a chair, and all and all, makes an even bigger fool of himself as he tries to escape the rain outside.

"Ack," he says as he plops down on the floor and shakes out his wet hair. Tequila the one eyed tomcat pokes his head out of his 'kitty sling' (a very worn messenger bag) and meows very loudly at Salah.

"Why are you yelling at me? I'm the one that's wet here."

sky-from-sea.livejournal.com

First, Anna's been traveling most of the day, stopping at an exchange or two, and then running out to do some scavenging for useful trade materials.

It didn't go well.

Then it started to rain.

And then on her way to the Wasteland for a drink, she ran into a group of vampires attempting to turn in a werewolf for--being a werewolf. And scavenging.

At least that was what she heard as she attempted to navigate the crowd. That was pretty much the last straw.

It's amazing how a be-skirted vampire in a temper can clear out a street that fast. The fact that she had her shotgun with her might have helped. And there were at least two cool-headed passerby that helped run interference. She'll look them up later, buy them a drink or something. Or, you know, give them a little bit of whatever she and Daniel manage to grow.

At this moment, though, Anna is running one hand through her very damp hair and muttering to herself as she comes through the door.

Something about 'fledgling justice system, I don't think so'. She deserves a glass of bourbon today. Or a mug of blood and a bottle of moonshine. She's not in the mood to be picky.

bass-line-blues.livejournal.com

Preston ambles into the Wasteland and slings his backpack onto his seat.

His shirt and pants - once bluish and whiteish, respectively - are a kind of uniform dingy gray color from dirt and dust, and there's a kind of scraggly unshaven growth around the bottom half of his face. (Preston hasn't looked in a mirror for a while, but he's holding out hope that maybe it grew out looking kind of rocker-cool. It's a very slim hope, though.)

After dropping the pack, he starts towards the back storage cupboard. He's been keeping his bass there. Safer than the shelter.

undermyheel.livejournal.com

Snapping her umbrella closed, Claire shakes out the rain and glances around the Wasteland.

She doesn't look tired at all, but there's an edge to her, revealed only in the length of her skirt - knee length - and the buttons her blouse. Who knew being a Madam would be harder than being an ~~evil mastermind~~ apocalyptic businessman?

Confidently she walks up to the bar, asks for a real bloody mary. Sitting down at the end of the bar, she pulls out a mirror and fixes her lipstick.

radioactivecowboy

Daniel had kicked himself out of the house before Anna could, earlier in the day. He spent some time at the shelter, and roaming the streets, before parking himself a few blocks down from the Wasteland. Hey, thirty degrees is practically balmy in comparison.

The horse is at home. She was grouchy.

sky-from-sea.livejournal.com

Anna slips through the door of the Wasteland carrying a tote bag.

Inside the bag is a notebook, a few pens, and a couple books, only minorly water-damaged.

It'll do.

She nabs a glass of blood and settles in.

She likes living with Daniel and keeping busy, but sometimes--

Sometimes a change is nice.

And maybe getting out will make her feet stop feeling so itchy.

localhandywolf.livejournal.com

Here is a Wasteland. It is a club, among other things. There is even a stage. And on this stage, there be a couple of garden flamingos.

Actually, more than a few.

They have been also been arranged Artistically.

(This is Armand. Use your imagination)

Currently, these flamingos are being serenaded by aforementioned Armand and his guitar.

And that is the setting.

rebelwithoutclaws

Russ started off the evening in a less than great mood -- it's January, it's Chicago, it's cold and windy and it makes his ribs ache -- and then Armand and his flamingos showed up.

Fucking world's out to push his buttons tonight, huh?

He's acquired a glass of moonshine and is alternating sips of it with drags on a cig.

wither_wilt

Salah has papers spread out across one of the tables in the Wasteland. He is writing notes to himself as he flips through several different books with titles like "Fables of..." and "Tall Tales of the...".

Tequila the mangy, one-eyed tom cat is also visiting today. Salah turned his leather jacket inside out, and Tequila is curled up, mostly asleep, in the well worn folds of down fabric. He is purring grossly, like dying tractor engine, even in his sleep. Salah grins and scratches behind Tequila's ear.

"Good kitty."

k-gabriel.livejournal.com

Hey look, it's a tiny blonde guitarist!

A tiny blonde guitarist who's sort of smiling at nothing in particular at the moment.

She's also writing in a notebook, apparently working on a list of something.

bass-line-blues.livejournal.com

Preston's in the Wasteland, sitting on the stage and strumming his bass absently.

He's in a good mood. There are reasons for this.

. . . they don't have to do with the trial, which is taking its own sweet time about getting organized while the accused sit around in a basement and take up resources, but right now he's not thinking about that so much.

sew-on-wolf.livejournal.com

Shay has been absent for quite some time, though with good reason.

What the good reason is might be up for debate.

Did she walk to Maine?

Did she elope with a zombie?

Did she die?

Or was she taking care of two teething wolfpuppies and avoiding all noises and sounds of fighting?

Well, her walking through the door of the club with a slightly larger-than-normal cardboard box might disprove the third theory. Unless she's been resurrected, which is rather unlikely, don't y'think?

makeyoubetter.livejournal.com

Deborah enjoys the city at night.

It may be because it is one freedom she was never accorded in D.C. Immune she may have been, but immunity was of little value while the degeneratives traveled in such large groups-- packs of them, hordes at a time. At any rate, it is hardly safe here in Chicago.

But it is safer.

So here is Deborah, walking with measured, efficient steps and no particular purpose, in the general direction of the Wasteland.

bitingmybullet.livejournal.com

You thought being a werewolf was tough?

Try it with PMS.

Gwen is just getting over the worst cramps of her life-- frankly, she'd rather turn into a werewolf for the first time all over again than go through another round of these-- but she has been Hearing Things, you see, and has come to the conclusion that she can't afford to spend another day lying in bed hating the universe for giving her two X-chromosomes.

Therefore: One Gwen, staggering through the doors of the Wasteland.

She may be looking out for a few individuals in particular.

wither_wilt

Solomon coughs and gets out a crumpled pack of smokes as he sits down very, very carefully in the middle of the street just outside the Wasteland. "I...I need to sit."

"How is every body?"

Salla is bloodied, with a large clawed gash taking up most of the left side of his face, and a variety of other bites and blood smears covering his shredded shirt.

toomuchstoker.livejournal.com

[Out and about in Chicago...

A good old fashioned posse makes its way to the University of Chicago. Karla and Preston investigate, Russ and Claire hunt, and Daniel and Salla battle.

Meanwhile, Anna faces down Nicky.]

radioactivecowboy

Tonight, Daniel walks into the Wasteland with no horse. She has been stolen, or at least borrowed without asking, and he knows the culprit.

He was hoping to find Anna here, but no luck.

Next best thing? Getting enough people together to take down Nicky and find Anna fast. It's a fairly busy night, he shouldn't have much trouble finding some of the people he wants.

undermyheel.livejournal.com

Claire refuses to look tired, even though she does. It's habit at this point.

The posse isn't major. Maybe she just wants a drink tonight.

makeyoubetter.livejournal.com

Fitting in here is bizarrely easy.

Deborah stays at the shelter, in a building packed with the results of her research and careful experiments. (None of them knows, of course. None of them has any idea.) She cooks, she cleans, she is quiet. She used to be a professor of biology, she tells them as she told Claire. George Washington University. She wears a red armband with some amusement.

Today it's hot, and Deborah is in Millenium Park. It's grown a little wild in the past few years, with most people having better things to do than cut grass, but the upside is that the trees are lusher and shadier than they were before.

Not that Deborah knows that; she never spent much time in Chicago before now. She just appreciates the shade.

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The Wasteland

I will show you fear in a handful of dust

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