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Post by abbie on Feb 28, 2011 17:51:16 GMT -5
Generally speaking, Abby was an innocent, law abiding citizen. In fact, she normally went out of her way to obey rules and very seldom broke them. Its was just something ingrained in her personality since she herself could tell when ever someone was lying and she absolutely hated it when she had to do anything that could be construed in the same light.
Unfortunately, the only way she could get some of the images she really needed for her book was to sneak into places that were closed to the public. Places like this old, abandoned building that sat like a lonely sentinel. Something about the place had drawn her like a magnet and she hadn't been able to resist when she'd pulled her old ford up down the street and furtively slipped inside with her camera in tow.
Now, as she walked the floors of the place, the pretty blond snapped pictures of long forgotten furniture and slowly fading history. There almost seemed to be life in the tattered settings and a feeling of sadness welled up in her as she picture up an old black and white photograph of a man, wife and three small children. It looked to have been knocked from the old desk along with an antique looking phone and various other paraphernalia. It made her wonder why it had been cast aside so carelessly and what had happened to leave the room looking as if someone had thrown a temper tantrum and then simply walked out. Oh, how she wished building like this could talk at times. The stories they might tell.
Sighing, Abbie started to stand and suddenly felt as if she wasn't alone. Spinning on the ball of her foot, she barely missed the chair that seemed to carreen towards her of its on free will. Blinking in astonishment, she squeaked and then ran for the door when the desk started to slide. What in heavens name? she thought to herself even as she took the steps two and a time and practically fell down the last few as a chunk of wood tried to take her head off.
WHAT IN THE HELL WAS GOING ON HERE??
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Post by Jackson Taylor Kincaid on Apr 22, 2011 14:37:51 GMT -5
Jack rubbed his chin and then reached down to lift the sleeve of his heavy wool coat; suddenly remembering he couldn’t check the time because he never wore a watch. He smirked and shook his head, resuming the path he had made several times before; back and forth across the dusty wooden floor of the second room on the third floor of the abandoned building. The room where -he- was keeping an appointment with a shady man from whom the Creole man was going to retrieve a very rare and very cursed item. Should have known the junkie wasn’t going to be on time. He didn’t know why he had even bothered to make it there exactly when they’d scheduled the exchange. He really coulda’ stopped for that beignet and some good chicory before comin’ round. Maybe he had time yet. Taking one last glimpse out the window Jack made to head back down and out the building through the rear exit. That-a-way he wouldn’t attract any unwanted celebrity. His cohort wasn’t exactly on the right side o’ the law and neither was he for that matter. Not lately anyway. There had been that ruckus at the mayor’s house with Makayla Rhys-Damara and of course the time down in Savannah with the runaway corpses. Good times. He woulda’ made his mama proud and his daddy shake his head. Taking the stairs two and three at a time Jackson was whistling a song Misery used to sing him as a lullaby. Something about the baby that fell out of the tree sprouting wings and flying right outta’ the bayou. Damn. He always loved that song. Jack mentally chastised himself for how long it’d been since he had been back to that old swamp home where the voodoo witch and her wolf lived, but he’d been busy. Business had been real good. At the bottom of level two the turquoise eyed man gave pause, hearing a commotion from somewhere beyond the heavy door. It sounded like a mini tornado had gotten loose in the building, and Jack was just the kinda’ fella’ that couldn’t let something that could possibly be exciting pass him by. He pushed through the entrance to the level wearing a curious smile and lofted brows, ducking back in just in time for a whirlwind of papers to come flying though the hallway like a stark white colony of bats out of its desk cage. Jack laughed quiet at the imagery and crept down the hall, following the sound of a female squeak towards a stairwell opposite the one he’d come through. He could tell she was coming down from the upper floor and he smiled sly and quickened his pace, catching a flying piece of wood just before it hit his head, coming face to face with the wide-eyed blonde as she was skipping down the steps. “Whoa…. Cherie.” Jack held up his hands in surrender and smiled, dropping the wood before giving her his toothiest grin. “Why you go an’ start all this commotion, huh?”
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Post by abbie on Apr 23, 2011 13:20:55 GMT -5
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My My Mister Wolf, what big teeth you have! That was the only thing Abbie could think when a darkly handsome man suddenly appeared in her path and gave her a toothy grin. Much taller than herself and broader in the shoulders, he had an air about him that hinted that he was quiet used to danger and perhaps even enjoyed it. Caught in mid eep, she felt her mouth snap shut and her eyes narrowed on him as if in speculation. Where the hell had he come from and more importantly... why? Lost in thought for a moment, she didn't even reply to his question but the sound of crashing furniture behind her spurred her to response. Opening her strawberry lips, the blonde finally managed to form a coherent thought and she suddenly wanted to know if this all was someones, mainly HIS, idea of a practical joke. He looked just like the type that would get his kicks from frightening a poor unsuspecting fool with something like this. Well, if that had been his plan.. He had another thing coming. She wasn't just anyones fool and she had no problem telling him exactly what she thought of his reckless actions. Unfortunately, whatever she was about to say was knocked right out of her as something struck her in the back and she tumbled head first right into the mans chest hard enough to send them both tumbling down the next flight of stairs to the main floor. As they rolled, Abbie squeeked and yipped until they landed sprawled on the front foyer floor in an undignified heap. A heap that had landed her in a compromising position with her head precariously near a certain piece of anatomy that she was in no shape or form ready to get more acquainted with. Not that she wasn't woman enough to notice that he definitely wasn't in need of any sock stuffed in there. Oh good gods.. Had she REALLY just thought that? Thank god he wasn't a mind reader! "HOLY CRAP!" she squeaked, trying to push herself off him only to accidentally bring a knee up and almost injure the poor man's hopes of any day having a family of his own. "Oh My gods.. I'm SOOOOO sorry.." she stammered out, reaching automatically to pat the wounded area only to jerk back as if she'd been scalded and turning a bright red. "Crap.... I SO didn't mean to do that....Shit... Damn it...." Luckily, or unluckily, depending on how you looked at it, she was saved from any further mortification as a howl rent the upper level and her gaze was jerked towards the top of the stairs that they had just descended. A man stood there glaring at them angrily and in his hand was a gun. He also seemed to have something dark and sticky on his front and Abbie knew instinctively that it must be blood. So intent on that detail was she that she missed the fact that he didn't move like a normal human. HOLY HELL!THEY HAD TO GET OUT OF THERE NOW!! There was no doubt in her mind that the man had murdered someone and they were now his next victims. "OH SHIT!Oh Shit!! OH SHIT!!" she squeaked out, blasting to her feet and pulling frantically on the hand she'd grabbed on the way up. "Come on.. We've got to get out of here!! He's got a gun!!!!"Feeling resistance on her tug, the young photographer turned wild eyes to her companion and let her temper get the best of her. "COME ON, you big oaf!! This isn't the time to be laying around!! What are you gonna do? Convince him to take a nap with you? That might work on some flighty brained female but the dudes got a GUN!! HELLO??"
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Post by Jackson Taylor Kincaid on May 11, 2011 11:50:59 GMT -5
Jack just stood there grinning like the Cheshire Cat as the blonde made to give him a piece of her mind. Her crystalline eyes were wide with something akin to shock -and- annoyance and her glossy lips open and closed as if unsure that whatever wanted to escape was the appropriate response. He wondered if she took him for the cause of all this commotion and chuckled quiet, his head inflating a little on account that his looks were so mysterious he could be believed to be the bringer of flying chairs and bone shocking wails. If only. His magic was so much simpler than that. Well, most of it. If he could control the necromancy that was perched on his fingertips and his lips enough to do what his mama could do; hell…he’d be a regular ole Albus Dumbledore. Not…not that he read those childish stories about a kid with glasses and a lightning bolt shaped scar… Insert some absent throat clearing here. And then insert a little groaning and cursing as the female was suddenly thrown into him, sending them tumbling down the flight of stairs. When they had come to a stop at the bottom Jackson was too momentarily stunned to notice where the blonde had landed; letting loose one last FUCK and shaking his head to clear the cartoon stars and tweeting birdies circling his head. When his turquoise eyes came back to focus, -that- was when the large male noticed the delicious pressure on his lower half. Pushing himself up on his elbows he smirked down at the flabbergasted girl. Cue some mortified squirming and then one almost nutcracker move and Jack was holding his breath and trying not to move too much even as the female began patting his crotch like one does to a kid on the head. The thinking head. “You outta’ buy a man dinner first, Cherie.”The smile that spread over Jackson’s easy on the eyes face was nothing short of amused; the expression a seemingly permanent fixture on his visage even as the image of the gun wielding ghost made appearance at the top of the stairs. He snickered as the girl leapt to her feet and attempted to drag him with, propping one arm behind his head as if just getting nice and comfy. Blinking in mock surprise when the girl spun around to let him have it, Jack leaned sideways to look around her frame at the haunt, rolling his eyes at the ludicrously cliché image the ghost made. His mood-ring orbs whipped back to the dawlin’ when she tugged him again, raising her voice to a near shriek and mocking his size. “Oaf? That the best you got, Cookie? Lemme handle this.”Jackson pulled himself up to stand and wiped off his goods; smirking at the blonde and cracking his neck before putting his big body between the ghost and the girl. “Gon’ be some ghost-bustin’ up in here…” The Cajun went all ghetto, narrowing his eyes on the specter. He knew all about how ghosts; the numerous ways to dispatch them, but mostly how to annoy the un-livin’ daylights outta’ them. The dark-haired man let his gaze shift east, immediately spotting what his subconscious had noticed before the interruption. Moving with deftness borne of his lineage, Jack was able to grab the iron bar, rushing the phantom headlong and swinging it though the bloody mist of its frame. The beastie immediately flickered like a bad movie, vanishing as its electric charge was disrupted by the iron. He turned back on the blonde as if he was bored. “That angry poltergeist wont stay gone forevah, dumplin’. We got two choices. One, we get the rock outta’ here and get some N’awlins donuts, or two…we find his bones and rid him for good. Up to you babydawl. What kinda’ mood joo in?”
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Post by abbie on May 17, 2011 12:25:34 GMT -5
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