roadrunnermuses | for Wizera } { random rp shenanigans

Go to the concert. Have fun. You deserve a night off.

Artemis wasn't sure who she was more frustrated with at the moment. Fatima for encouraging her to go to the ridiculous affair or Diana for insisting that she wear a lace dress, of all things. Artemis hadn't worn a dress since the 1940s. You couldn't move the right way in a dress. You couldn't get in a good roundhouse. You couldn't run properly. And she'd never looked back. Sentiment would only be an unnecessary distraction.

And there was no such thing as a 'night off' as far as she was concerned.

She moved uncertainly through the crowd, doing her best not to touch any of the people as they danced and swayed to the music. It was an outdoor concert of some sort. She hadn't bothered looking at the names of any of the performers. She was only grateful that several large men at the entrance had stopped to check her bag for a lighter. The audience members were settling for a lighter app on their smart phones, dozens of tiny screens lighting up the night like fireflies.

Add to that the fact that no one ever bothered to check her boots for weapons and she felt she was coming out ahead. At least somewhat.

[Character is a wish-granting Djinn.]

There really is no such thing as a night off. Especially if your name happens to be Winchester.

Granted, Sam hadn't been here for a night off to begin with. He and Dean were casing the concert for any sign of their ghost flickering through the crowd. The concert tour in question has been plagued "accidents" and "tragedies" and since the spirit doesn't seem to be tied to the body - which was salted and burned by a friend three states away - he can only assume there has to be some other remains somewhere in the tour bus. So while Dean is tossing that, he's trying to get back to the dressing room.

Unfortunately for Sam, he's enormous and not exactly the perfect example of inconspicuous. Go figure. So as he's bobbing and weaving through the crowd, Artemis can probably spot him fairly easily.

Like both of her sisters, Artemis had a certain appreciation for music. She knew how to keep on key and she knew a good tune when she heard one.

This was utter rubbish.

Which probably explained why people seemed more interested in dancing than listening. Including a particularly lumbering fool who made the mistake of trying to grab her hand.

In one effortless, fluid motion, Artemis hooked her hand around his elbow and tossed him onto his back. It was an instinct, but common sense quickly told her she'd made a mistake. Dozens of eyes turned onto her and the stunned man on the ground. It was an incongruous sight, a waifish woman standing over him. Artemis' own dark eyes darted back and forth, quickly looking for some kind of excuse.

And a six foot four one immediately caught her attention.

"I'm with him," she said breezily to the crowd, faking an American accent as she walked over to Sam, taking his arm.

Somehow, people could accept that she was tough if she was with a giant.

Someone is taking his arm and with the difference in accent he doesn't recognize it right away, so his first expression is more baffled confusion than anything else. When he glances down and sees who it is, he recovers quickly, schooling his face into a nod of agreement before eyeing anyone else to see if they want to say anything now.

"There a problem?"

Once upon a time, he would have thought that the rift was screwing with him, sending him to a place with large masses of water everywhere. In fact, he thinks that he can remember, arriving here of all places after the end of the world, cursing everything that this place chose to be. It's missing a few crucial things that Alexander needs to survive, that he can't make it without, but at the end of the day, he grieved, he grew up, and he stayed.

After all, it's not like he has Chicago to go back to.

He even comes to appreciate the water after a while, building a kind of tiki bar on the shore where he totally doesn't run a slightly less legal business out of the back room, but you can consider that a byproduct of how he was raised. Abernathy men never really stayed on the straight and narrow for too long, after all.

Still, most people around there know him as the friendly bartender of Midnight Mimosas, famous for his more flashy (and flammable) drinks, and practically (not) a pillar of the community.

Nothing at all wrong with that.

The intoxicated and otherwise compromised concert-goers were practically falling over themselves to dissipate from the scene at once. Even the drunken fool who'd tried to dance with Artemis and received a bruised tailbone for his trouble was quick to retreat.

It was the advice Artemis had given Tima on her first day of school. Find the scariest person on the playground and make friends with them.

Not that Artemis thought Sam Winchester, Boy of Letters, was actually scary. On the contrary. He was a delightfully refreshing sort of hunter.

And not one she'd expected to see again any time soon.

Switching back to her native London accent, she let go of his arm. "Your timing is improbable."

As she padded barefoot across the soft and warm sand, Jasmine Flower of the River Banks couldn't help but marvel at its color. She'd never seen black sand before. Or sand so fine. It felt like silk between her toes. Better than. Almost like some sort of thick liquid. The feeling was completely disconcerting.

And she loved it.

After all, it was new.

Of course, everything was new to her. Ever since she'd arrived in this...place. Where ever it was. She was greeted almost every morning by new and bewildering surprises. Most of them much, much bigger than the feeling of sand between her toes. The tavern, for one. She'd never seen one like it!

Curiously, she started trotting across the sand, her thick, black braid bouncing against her back. Her enthusiasm set her apart, made her far more out of place than her linen tunic and her bronze sword.

" ... You're welcome?" He says, raising an eyebrow curiously. He knows that he's supposed to be working on the case, but this is a distraction worth stopping for - at least in his opinion. "What are you doing here?"

"Ugh." Artemis had a unique power. Anyone could roll their eyes. But she had a remarkable knack for rolling her eyes. As if she actually hoped to see the heavens above and fully expected that the gods were laughing at her.

Who was to say they weren't?

It made sense, anyway.

"I've been exiled from the compound for the night," she sighed. "Something about 'having fun.'"

He laughs softly, not maliciously, at the idea of Artemis "having fun" at a concert like this one. Especially considering what he knows about what's waiting behind the scenes. "I'm guessing you didn't get to pick your fun?"

Unfortunately - mostly for Dean - there isn't a bar on this earth that he can't say no to. In fact, the more of a run-down dive it is, the better. He and Sam are working a job and naturally, Dean needs to take a break and decompress. He's seen Sam's judgmental faces against his back as he walks out the door, but Dean's also gotten past the point of caring.

Alcoholism is as alcoholism does.

He makes his way into the bar and makes his way up to the bartender, using his foot to catch the rung of one of the nearby stools and pull it closer. "Whiskey. Neat."

Alexander glances up as she walks in the door, a warm smile stretching across his face as he sees her. Then again, he always has warm smiles for pretty girls. He's already reaching for a glass behind the bar, almost as though he's magically aware of exactly what she wants to drink and leans forward once she's close enough.

"What can I get you?"

"No," she said flatly.

The boy of letters was smart. Or, at the very least, observant. And with a good memory. A tragically rare attribute in humans, these days. Artemis largely blamed phones that thought too much. And, as Diana put it, the 'Google box.'

But, as she thought about it herself, this didn't precisely strike her as a place where a boy of letters would have fun either.

"What are you doing here?"

The stranger's smile caught Jasmine Flower of the River Banks off guard a little bit. She wasn't used to men who smiled. Not lately, anyway. Ever since she and Percy had left home, she'd seen more than her fair share of scowling faces. Everyone seemed so unhappy all the time. It was refreshing to see something different.

...even if it did put her on her guard just a little bit.

She couldn't say why.

"I don't know," she said, walking closer to the countertop. She'd practiced keeping her Egyptian accent reined in, but it snuck out a little on her vowels. "What are you offering?"

Denise resented the fact that she'd been assigned to another bar. After what happened the last time, she kinda figured Big Bosses would go easy on her for awhile. Let her off the hook. And for awhile, they'd been tip-toing around her like cats in rooms full of rocking chairs. Her first assignments following The Incident had been pretty much softballs. Go with Liam and look tough. Chauffer Chrissy to this party or that party. Babysit the dhampir for a few hours.

Being asked to watch over a bar was a complete curveball.

But what could she do? Say 'no' to the people who had, literally, dragged her out of hell?

Not so much.

Fortunately, the evening had been uneventful so far. The demon she was supposed to be tracking had yet to show. Denise had just been keeping herself busy in the way bartenders did, wiping down the counters, cleaning shot glasses, and sneaking glances at her phone. It was a slow night. But then again, it was a Tuesday.

When Buzzcut walked in and placed his order, Denise poured without ceremony, sliding it down the countertop to him. "Bottoms up."

"Well, we have a number of assorted spirits and liquors for you to choose from," he says with a nod as he leans forward to let his elbows rest against the bar. "It just depends if you like something fruity, something with a little bite, or something with a little spice."

Alexander's accent is still strictly Chicagoan, something he never intends to let go of for as long as he can. It helps remind him of where he's come from, and hopefully take him back to somewhere where he can be again.

Dean smiles as he catches the glass easily, raising it to her in a small toast, before knocking it back just as easily as if it had been a glass of water. That probably says more than anything about how much he's burned out his taste buds.

He swallows, placing the glass back down on the bar before greeting her with a smile. "Anything interesting happening around here?"

"Working a case, actually," he rubs a hand against the back of his neck as he glances towards the stage. "We're pretty sure something on that stage is haunted, we just need to try and figure out what."

In order to do that, he has to try and get back stage, which will be a feat in and of itself.

Oh, great. Another douche who thought he was going home with the bartender, just because he smiled and threw back a shot.

She smiled back, a gleam in her eye telling him that he had no idea what he was getting himself into.

And as for interesting...

"You'll find interesting about three exits back," she replied. "Hollywood and Vine. Sure lots of girls there will find you interesting."

She nodded slightly, mostly to pretend she understood. The truth of the matter--which was blindingly obvious to most--was that Jasmine Flower of the River Banks had little experience with spirits.

Or taverns.

Or much of anything. At least, anything away from the compound where she was brought up.

But she was learning. And learning fast. Both the truth and how to fake it.

"Something with a little spice," she said raising her chin defiantly.

It was probably a sign of everything Fatima said was wrong with Artemis that the mention of a haunting perked her up. Considerably. After the debacle in Phoenix, she'd taken pains to learn everything she could about ghosts and poltergeists.

They were still new to the equation.

"What makes you say that?" she asked, immediately inviting herself into the case.

Sam honestly doesn't mind if she does. He could use the back up as ghosts tend to toss him around like a rag doll when given the opportunity. "There's been a number of unexplained deaths, and deaths with a similar MO have bounced around to more than a few different tours in the past fifty years or so. Ghosts don't usually travel like that, so we think that there has to be something that's passed from tour to tour that carries the spirit with it."

"A tether," Artemis murmured thoughtfully. "Possible. And have you checked for any signs of necromancers? We recently came up against some rather nasty ones in Phoenix. Tell me, does this band have...oh...what's the word? Groupies?"

She scanned the crowd thoughtfully. Certainly none of them looked intelligent enough to raise the dead. At least, judging from the way they were dressed.

Then again, Diana had dressed Artemis up like some kind of trollop.

"And who's we? Did you bring along a friend or two?"

for Wizera } { random rp shenanigans

Surprise Me

Surprise Me

a continuation of the threads we've done with them before?

Sounds good!

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Dean

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