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[22 Aug 2004|10:43am]
Hellooooooo?? *sniffles*
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...Vedavati... [13 Jun 2004|05:54pm]
ooc: Aww, Chammy, I'm sorry! *snugs* All will be well.

*Five hours later, and Tyler was still lying on his back in bed, eyes wide open, staring at the dark ceiling. He had gone to bed shortly after Chammy. He hadn’t gone in after her. God, she must hate me. Who am I kidding?; I hate me. Such, he decided, was the cause of his insomnia. At least he hadn’t tossed and turned and thrown the sheets from the bed as he did when he went to sleep with a particularly trying case on his mind. No, this was worse. He just lay there, staring. He had to make this up to Chammy, somehow. And himself. Otherwise he’d never be able to sleep with himself again…
Abruptly, he got up, going to his pile of clothes thrown on a chair in a corner, and easing a white shirt over his shoulders and buttoning up the front. After clothing himself the rest of the way, he very slowly opened the door, easing the hinges open so they wouldn’t squeak. He held his shoes in his hand, his socked feet not making any noise as he crept to the apartment door, taking care to make no noise as he opened it and closed it behind him. He didn’t put on his shoes until he was outside.
He unlocked the Corvidery and entered to the indignant squawks made by birds that are awoken by an irritating human who wakes up before 5 A.M. He went to search out a very particular bird…

It was several hours later that Tyler entered the elevator with the young magpie on his arm. The magpie itself, although it had done nothing, looked rather pleased with itself. Her parents had been among Tyler’s very favorite of the Corvidery birds, and he had been overjoyed when she had hatched in October the year before. She was very commonly rented out, mostly due to her kind demeanor and beautiful, metallic voice, but didn’t seem terribly content with this. And, above all, she was absolutely devoted to Chammy.

Tyler pushed open the apartment door a crack. The magpie stuck her beak through, looking left and right. “All clear, Ty.” Even when she was speaking, her voice sounded like a flute playing. Tyler paused before entering, looking down at the elegant black and white bird, still possessing some of the gray down of a chick on her breast. “Thanks for this, Vati.” She nipped at his finger reassuringly. “Hey, that’s what I’m here for, Ty.”

Tyler went inside and sat on the sofa. Vati jumped to the table and began deftly digging out last night’s French fries from under the mess of papers. Tyler bit his lip and waited for Chammy to wake up.*
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...Don't Believe in Regrets... [13 Jun 2004|03:45pm]
*Zohariel’s eyes were narrowed, and the feathers along his neck prickled as he stared at Tyler. Cath was never like this. This was some foreign creature inhabiting Cath’s body. 70 rivels, indeed? Fine, Cath, put a price on my companionship. “Raven!” he cawed in rebuke, at the same instant Annie did. Tyler didn’t seem to be paying attention. Fine. Walk away, damn human.
But something else caught his attention.
Everette stepped forward and began emptying his bag into Chammy’s purse. From the mouth of the sack cascaded a torrent of shining metal. Zohariel’s eyes went wide, shifting from foot to foot on Everette’s shoulder, and watching hungrily as the flow of coins receded. As Everette drew back the bag, Zohariel drew a single silver disc from it. “Wow!” his eyes lit up as he examined the coin in his beak from all angles, putting it down on Everette’s shoulder and circling it, stepping on it so that it wouldn’t ‘get away’. He was like a child with a new favorite toy. He shook his head at Everette incredulously. “I…I just don’t…why the hell did you pay so much for me? I mean, why did you pay for me at all?! Cath only wanted 70 rivels. And you could just have pointed your gun in their faces and gotten away with me anyway. And…why would you pay so much…for me?” Zohariel looked rather touched. “Don’t take me wrong, but what do you need me for? Whatcha gonna do with me? Cath was right; what do you need another bird for? Much less me? I mean, I’m a fast learner and all, but I don’t really know the tools of the trade.” He settled comfortably back into his position of warmly pressed against Everette’s neck, where he distractedly played with the coin, enthusiastically twirling it in his beak. “Shiny,” he explained with mild embarrassment at a glance from Annie. Conspiratorially, he glanced around, then tucked the coin into the outside fold of Everette’s collar, like a squirrel stowing its nuts for safe keeping. He could still see Tyler in the distance, his back hunched, both hands in the pockets of that ridiculous trenchcoat. “Good riddance…” he muttered to himself, again running his beak through Everette’s dark hair, absently looking for dandruff (which Cath had always had a fair quantity of, but Zoh found to be scarce in Ret’s hair.) Chammy still hadn’t walked away. He wished she would; her face full of cold misery was beginning to crack his stubbornly self-promoting shell. “You’ll be okay, Chammy…” he said softly, not quite loud enough for her to hear. Yet, he instinctually felt she had heard. Rather ill-at-ease, he let Everette rub the feathers of his chest, watching Chammy mournfully. At last, he pulled his eyes away from her, and peered at Annie doubtfully. “Yeah. Great friends.”*
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...I Don't Need Anyone... [13 Jun 2004|03:23pm]
Ooc: All of the crows I’ve seen in the U.S., as well as in Australia, haven’t been much bigger than a peregrine at the largest. And the ravens are always a little bigger. What kind of crows are yours, Silv? And yesh, the crows in HP made me very happy. Not as happy as Buckbeak did, mind you :P Gah, I’m turning Tyler into such an idiotic bastard in order to get the reactions I want, like Chammy pressing for the 38 thou, and the birds poking him for calling Annie a crow. Ah well, poor Tyler, I’m cruel.

*Tyler watched Black Widow empty most of his bag’s contents into Chammy’s purse, looking impatient. As soon as the last coins fell, he turned on his heel and stalked back up the street. He didn’t need a cab. Nor did he need all that money. Nor did he need that loud-mouth bird. Nor did he need…no, the one person he needed was Chammy, because she was the only person in the world who needed him. But, he thought painfully, she needed Zohariel at least as much. He fished around in his pocket until he pulled out the sticky, browning slice of rotting apple, which he threw to the pavement and stepped on so that brown sludge seeped from under his shoe. Damn bird, causing so much heartache. If Rena Vemsbiek had told him in the first place how obnoxious the crow was, Tyler would have refused to take him in. His walk quickened, trying to leave behind Black Widow and his birds as quickly as possible. Chammy would catch up. God, Chammy…Tyler wasn’t looking forward to the coming hours, to a Chammy consumed with bitterness. He tried to keep telling himself this wasn’t his fault, that he didn’t have a choice, that Klax had wanted to go…but if Tyler had listened to Chammy and not sent the crow out after Everette in the first place…
It was beginning to rain. Tyler could see the dark clouds gathering and turning the sky still darker gray. Perfect, the only thing the atmosphere of shame lacked. It took nearly an hour of walking before he arrived at the apartment, drenched and beginning to shiver. The entire time, he had refused to look over his shoulder. He couldn’t face anyone right now, especially Chammy. He let himself in. The room was so quiet without the usual loud, scolding greeting. Tyler’s fists clenched. He let out a roar like an angry dog and kicked over the coffee table with a loud bang. He sat down on the couch quickly, burying his face in his hands. You’re a moron, Tyler Cath, and you’ve completely ruined your life and Chammy’s, and now probably Klax’s as well. No, Klax had wanted to go, and Tyler had wanted to let him. The only real victim in all of this was Chammy.
Tyler’s eyes were turning red and bloodshot from tiredness. He surfaced from his position buried in his hands, righting the coffee table and then staring at it. But he was determined to set things right, somehow. He would make it up to Chammy. Somehow.*
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...A Conflict of Interest... [12 Jun 2004|05:40pm]
*Tyler looked indignant, “When have I every thought you were useless, Chammy?” Tyler was feeling very uncomfortable in this situation, and didn’t feel that Chammy or Klax were helping at all. His irritation was halted by a prickle of reluctant fear as cold words entered his ears. “I’ll buy him.” A demand. That was quickly reinforced; "Whether you accept or decline, I walk away with this crow..." Tyler eyed the bag of rivels. God, they could use that money. The Corvidery was rapidly falling into disrepair, and a bit of a boost in their funds could really help that. But, even as he looked at it, he had to wonder where it had come from, and who was destined to die that night because of it…and whether he ought to be stopping it. He ran his tongue along his fangs again. Zohariel was right; it wouldn’t be a great loss. Besides, the crow WANTED to go. There was just one part of this equation tipping the scales in the other direction. Chammy. Tyler felt the need to discover Everette’s motives. Not for the crow, who he now considered rather treacherous and more of a nuisance than he was worth, but for Chammy. “If I may ask…why do you want him, Black Widow? I see you already have a crow.” He was finding it hard to feel too worried for Zohariel when the more pressing concern was the safety of Chammy and himself; Zohariel seemed perfectly comfortable. He wanted to give Chammy further words of reassurance, but he instantly recognized that this ability was far beyond his league. The only words she would hear now were those of the little black bird, who now glided over to settle on her shoulder. They exchanged words that Tyler could not hear, and felt he was not meant to. Finally, the crow turned to him. ”C’mon, Cath. Let me go.” Tyler breathed in deeply, letting it out slowly, looking at Zohariel’s familiar shape as he stared at him with the same earnest gaze he had worn every time he had begged Tyler for an owner. Well, it wasn’t like he had a choice. If he refused, he knew Black Widow wouldn’t be easily overruled. And even if he did manage it, he didn’t want to return home with a crow who continued to lurk behind the radiator, plucking out his feathers. “Okay, Klax. Go with Black Widow.” The bird nodded to him gratefully. “By the way, TYLER…you owe me a beer.” Zohariel nipped tenderly at Chammy’s cheek before his light weight left her shoulder, and resumed its place on Everette’s. Tyler couldn’t help watching him, thinking; there goes another child Chammy has lost now. And Zohariel had, after all, been their companion for quite a while now. Despite all of his irritating habits, and his uncanny ability to get on Tyler’s nerves, he was really going to miss the crow. He found himself suddenly greatly regretting his decision to let Zohariel go with the assassin. After all, he hadn’t even considered what would happen to Zohariel when the dangerous vampire walked away with him…but he knew that somewhere under Everette’s coat was a certain gun intricately carved with spider’s webs. Tyler looked downtrodden, as if he had been somehow defeated. “Pay up then, Black Widow, we have a play to get to. I don’t want your huge bag of money; you’ll throw my accounts out of order. That crow costs 70 rivels.” He held out his hand, and was pleased to see that it didn’t shake, although he wasn’t so sure about the rest of him. Or Chammy. God, this was just what Chammy needed right now, wasn’t it? He closed his eyes for a long moment, feeling more defeated and downtrodden then before. What choice had he had? Better this than risk putting bullets through both of them. Still, he was very, very concious of Chammy standing right behind him. ~You are a bastard, Tyler Cath.~*
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...The Crows of Black Widow... [12 Jun 2004|05:40pm]
*Zohariel lifted his beak to allow the cool, pallid fingers to stroke his chin. Rani would scratch him under there, sometimes, when she came to the Corvidery to see her half-sister. He only half-listened to the continuing conversation, rather entranced by the rubbing he was receiving, rather like a dog being rubbed behind the ears.
“Um, excuse me, Black Widow, sir,” Oh, always such an eloquent one you are, Cath. “Would you like to rent-”
”I’ll buy him.”
Zohariel abandoned the stroking hand to slide a few inches down Everette’s arm to look blankly at Tyler, and then stare at Black Widow with the same expression. “Really?”
His dark eyes glittered with hope. “Whoa…” This was not what he had expected. He should have been heading back to the Corvidery on Chammy’s shoulder even as they spoke. But Everette wanted to buy him. He was going to have a human, his own human, again. The fact that this particular owner was a notorious hitman didn’t seem to cross his mind. Assassins were a danger to other people, not to crows. And not, certainly, to their own crows. The Crow of Black Widow. Oh, that sounded good. "You think I should?" Zohariel made a little indecipherable clucking noise in his throat before he managed to find words. “DO I?” He didn’t know what he ought to do; he had the urge to fly around in circles over the dark city, cawing his heart out, letting every bird in Hemaclot know that he, Zohariel Klaxtil Stormcrow Caneti, had a vampire. He didn’t think his wings, or his new owner, would approve of this, however. Instead, he inched up Everette’s shoulder again and ran his beak through the black hair affectionately. Rather as he used to do with Chammy.
Oh damn. Chammy.
No, couldn’t think about that. He couldn’t throw this away, even for sweet, patient, kind Chammy.
But what it really came down to was Tyler. He was the real owner of the Corvidery, and hence Zohariel’s real owner…what if he said no? Well, that wouldn’t really make a difference, given Everette’s attitude. Zohariel had a chilling image of Tyler saying no, and Everette calmly shooting Tyler between the eyes and then coolly stepping over his body and strolling away.
“38 thousand rivels? Is that the best you can do? Is that all I’m worth?” He asked, dripping of a proud sort of sarcasm that seemed a unique brand belonging to the loud crow. He knew that, had he been sold to anyone else, he would have been lucky to fetch Cath more than 50 rivels or so. He was, needless to say, rather arrogant about the price being offered for him.
His feathers were fluffed out to their maximum, so that he looked less like a crow than like a fluffy black football. “Hey, if you want to call me L.O., that’s fine with me. Heck, call me Shithouse if you want!” he piped happily, still pressed against Everette’s neck warmly. “No…I mean, if you’d prefer…I’d rather if you call me Zohariel, B.W.” (he liked Everette’s sarcastic suggestion of nickname) Only Tyler and Chammy would understand the importance of this gesture, of this allowance. But maybe the Black Widow would come to understand it in time. Tyler always called him Klax, despite how hard Zohariel fought against it. And Chammy…Chammy always called him Cantei. He grew silent. “I’m coming with you,” he told Everette softly, “But…can I talk to them first?”
Zohariel painstakingly managed to glide from Everette’s shoulder on to Chammy’s, although even this slight motion made him feel weak. He sat still and silent for a moment, gently preening Chammy’s dark hair. “I always listen to you, Chammy. I just don’t always hear you.” He said cheekily, “And ignoring Cath is quite easy for me,” he added, crest rising and falling in Tyler’s direction, but his sarcasm rapidly faded away and he became somber in a way he very rarely did. “Why don’t I want to come back?...because…because Black Widow is giving me a chance I never thought I’d have again, and its something I NEED to have. You and Cath are awesome, but…I can’t be your crow in the way most people have crows. You two have businesses to…attend to. You have a whole shop full of birds if you ever need to send a message. You don’t need me. You really don’t. There are lots of crows in the Corvidery. You don’t even need a crow. But…I need a human. More than anything in the world. I need Rena back, but since I can’t get her, I’ll settle for the one kind, concerned person who wants to buy me. I love you too, Chammy, but you’ve gotta let me go. There are things you just can’t give me. Please. I want to go.” Chammy’s pleading eyes were matched with Zohariel’s equally beseeching ones. He turned to Tyler. “And that goes for you too, old man. C’mon, Cath. Let me go.”*
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Moving-ness [12 Jun 2004|05:35pm]
Ooc: I’m having the time of my life. But I’m getting nervous about burying myself so deeply in these plots, since I’m not sure how active I’ll be able to be next month. Better tell you guys the whole plan now. On the 16th the movers are coming to pack us out…but the computer is going Air Shipment so they might take it later. At any rate, I’ll make an effort to keep posting somehow. I’ll…I dunno, call Ashie and ask her to tell me what the posts were about, and then write them out on paper and give them to her :P Yeah, Ashie, I’m mean, but what would you do? Anyway, I should be able to manage up to the 25th, when we actually get on the plane to fly back to the states for Homeleave. We’ll be there for about a month, during which I should, I hope, have on and off computer access. Then in early August we fly to Bangkok, and then it will be a week or two before the Air Shipment gets to us, and then however long it takes for us to get internet set up, so…I’ll do my best. I can’t tell you how much I’m annoyed about not having consistent compy availability when I’m having so much fun with this. But eh, I’ll hand out powerplaying rights and stuff, and find reasons for my characters’ absences. There, just wanted to update everyone on this whole moving deal.

Edit: I wrote that ooc, as well as my Zoh and Tyler posts, this morning. At about noon, mom and dad dragged me outside to ‘go take pictures of the lake’…turned out my friends had thrown me a surprise party by the lake. I am completely…COMPLETELY overwhelmed and emotionally drained, so…I’m just going to post what I have so far, and leave the rest for later. I need to go eat, or sleep, or cry…or something…
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...Out in the Open... [11 Jun 2004|01:39pm]
*Tyler’s shoulders rose and fell in a shrug as he looked doubtfully at the bleak surroundings. “I don’t know where Klax is. But, if he’s anywhere, it would be here.” And, of course, he didn’t know how right he was. “HEY! Chammy! Cath!” Tyler stared in amazement. There, indeed, was Klax…sitting on the shoulder of Black Widow himself. “Hey there, Klax. Wow…you’ve done…well.” Tyler had only sent out the crow to find out where Everette was, but to see him actually perched on the Black Widow’s shoulder as if he belonged there…Tyler suddenly realized what a dangerous situation he was in. Black Widow probably wouldn’t respond all that kindly to the knowledge that Tyler had sent a crow to seek him out. Still, Klax seemed alright. Maybe Black Widow was in a reasonable mood. “Now, sir, I can explain. I was rather anxious to take up your offer of ‘tea at five o’clock’, but when I stopped by here earlier I was told you weren’t in. I didn’t want to miss your invitation, and my crow can search far more effectively than I can, so I-“
“YOUR crow? Since when am I YOUR crow, Cath?”
Tyler frowned. “Look, Klax, we’ve been over this. Miss Vemsbiek gave you to me to be used as a crow of the Corvidery. That legally makes you my crow. In addition to that, I think you’re being very ungrateful. You have no experience in deliveries and are a loud mouth to boot, so I’ve been having a great deal of trouble finding anyone who wants to rent you.”
Zohariel had seemed completely unhurt by Everette’s bestowal of the title ‘the loud one’ on him, but Cath’s remark along the same lines caused him to wince, as though the man had physically hurt him.
“I’m not going back. You’re gonna keep me in that dratted place for the rest of my life without Rena. And you’re right, who would want to rent ME, especially after you’ve made it so clear that I’m completely USELESS to you.”
“Look, Klax, its not-“
“Can’t you just leave me alone? I can’t help you out, and I can take care of myself.”
Zohariel scooted backwards so that he was pressed against Everette’s neck, as if for protection. He felt very strong here, on the shoulder of the assassin, and knew Tyler was fully aware of what he was up against.
“FINE! I-“ Tyler stopped, clenching and unclenching his fists and trying to slow his breathing. “Klax, I don’t think Miss Vemsbiek would be very grateful to me if I just dumped you in the streets. Besides there are Crows Rights laws, I could be fined a lot of money if I just left you out here. I have to rent you out.”
Zohariel didn’t say anything. He just retreated farther behind Everette, settling half inside, half outside his black collar. He glanced at Annie, as if hoping for guidance.
Tyler watched him, so fearlessly defending himself behind the infamous hitman, perched so confidently on his shoulder. What HAD happened in that alley? It was only now that Tyler noticed blood on Klax’s head. At first he thought maybe the assassin had hurt him, but it wasn’t that sort of wound, it was far too slight. Klax had clearly run into a window. Again. It wasn’t bleeding very badly, though. It looked like some kind of ointment had been applied to it. This surprised him as well, Tyler’s eyes traveling from the cheeky crow to the pale face of the vampire on whom he sat as if he was his crow. Tyler ran his tongue over his fangs.
“Um, excuse me, Black Widow, sir. Would you like to rent a crow?”*

ooc: I just have too much fun posting these guys.
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...A Crow By Any Other Name... [11 Jun 2004|01:38pm]
Ooc: LMAO, Annie is awesome.

*Zohariel felt himself land softly, which was a bit surprising, as he had suspected to collide with hard pavement once again. His little chest was heaving, and he closed his eyes for a moment until his head stopped spinning. He opened them again blearily, squinting up at Annie. “I know when I ‘can and cannot fly’, but when you’re somewhere between a gun and a hard place, you flap your wings whether you think it’ll work or not. ‘Juvenile delinquent’ indeed…” He was spared any further arguing as Everette pinched Annie’s beak shut mercifully. Everette raised his hand to his shoulder, and Zohariel peered at it disdainfully for a moment. Slowly, cautiously, he stepped down from Everette’s hand and perched comfortably on his shoulder, ruffling his feathers. He craned his neck so that he could see past Everette’s neck to the other shoulder and see how Annie felt about all this. He had an immense urge to stick his tongue out at her, but decided to fight it. Maybe politeness was worth a try, in this case. “’The loud one’ is fine with me, if it so suits you,” Zohariel piped up cockily, as though he was rather proud of the rather less-than-flattering nickname, “But I do have a name, as it so happens. Zohariel Klaxtil Stormcrow Caneti, at your service. And I’ve already been informally introduced to Annie here…as for you, buster…well, I know who you are. Black Widow, eh? Interesting name. Your mother must not have liked you much.” He cocked his head to the side, studying Everette from this new, closer vantage point. “…no chance you have a less…erm…infamous name?” He turned to glare at Joseph. “And who’s this guy? What’s the deal with him? Ya gonna shoot him or what?” He asked, rather hopefully. Everette pushed his way through the alley door, into the club, and back to the street. He must have looked odd, with a crow on either shoulder; one whose crown was wreathed in graying feathers and another who was bleeding and dizzy. They appeared on the dark main street, and Zohariel perked up instantly. “HEY! Chammy! Cath!” Opps, wrong again. There was probably some stupid VIA rule about not giving away your connections. Well, so much for that. “Uh…I mean…I’ve never seen these two before in my life…” he put in doubtfully, realizing the jig was already up. He shouldn’t have said anything at all. Stupid bird, now Cath is going to take you back to the Corvidery. Zohariel rearranged himself on Everette’s shoulder, trying to blend with the black of his coat and remain inconspicuous. A great problem with being Zohariel was that you were NEVER inconspicuous.*
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...Blending In Badly... [10 Jun 2004|05:04pm]
*Chammy had varied reactions to all of Tyler’s hesitant suggestions, but she suppressed them all. But, at last, Chammy laughed, and Tyler eased, feeling far more comfortable. He drew away, holding her by the shoulders at arm’s length. “As if crying could make you look any less beautiful, Chammy.” Whoa, where had THAT come from? “I’m glad you’re not planning on getting drunk again, though. Once a week is more than enough, I think.” He saw her eyes drift to his shirt and shrugged. “It’s alright, don’t worry about it. Tears are great; unlike blood, they don’t stain, and people can’t tell what you’ve been up to by looking at you…” he trailed off, watching as she shifted into a completely different person.
Chammy’s strange ability amazed him every time, though he wouldn’t admit it. Her chameleon-like traits were what made her so useful to VIA in the first place. She could blend in to any crowd, in any setting. Tyler almost wished, at times, that he had some demon blood in him; it would have been awfully useful to have some sort of magic he could use to his advantage.
He shook his head, as though clearing it from the shock of her transformation. “Uh…right, a play. Yeah, there was something on at Patrick Theatre. Hang on.” He went to the couch, picking up a newspaper still lying there from a few days ago, and he flipped to the Entertainment section. “Huh…they’re doing a production of “The South Tower”. Feeling up to it, Chammy?” He smiled at the pale woman with black hair that Chammy had become. She looked far more like a vampire in this form. There had been a time when Chammy’s changes had unnerved Tyler, but he had gotten used to recognizing those distinctive pale green eyes. “Come on.” He folded the newspaper and threw his coat over his shoulders, walking to the kitchen counter and pulling Chammy down.
In a few minutes, they were out the door and down to the street, waiting for a cab to pass. “I’m wondering if we should open the Corvidery tomorrow. I’m a little concerned; peak season for VIA conferencing is coming, and we might have to hire someone to watch the shop for us.” At last, the sound of hooves could be heard, and Tyler waved down the cab, which stopped in front of them. Tyler clambered in after Chammy.
“Where to, mac?”
“Patrick’s Theatre. Take it slow, the show isn’t for another hour.”
The cab began its slow progress down the narrow street. They had been going for only five minutes or so when Tyler began to feel chilled, and put his hands in his pockets. Inside one, he felt something cold and sticky. He withdrew his hand, and in it was held a browning slice of apple, no doubt shoved in his pocket when Klax had nothing better to do then make the coat sticky for Tyler. He stared at it for a minute.
The cab driver turned to look at him questioningly.
“Can you take us to the strip joint by the docks instead?”
The driver’s eyebrows rose so high that they disappeared into his hair, but he didn’t ask any questions, only turned the horses down the next street. Tyler didn’t say anything. He closed his hand around the slice of apple and shoved it back into his pocket. Chammy didn’t seem displeased.
They came to a stop in front of the now-familiar strip club. Tyler shoved some rivels into the driver’s hands and jumped to the pavement, wondering what, exactly, he was hoping to accomplish when his hours of previous attempts had failed.*
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...Speaking With My Hands... [10 Jun 2004|02:04pm]
*Rena was still biting her lip, staring furtively at Tasha for instructions.“Ask him his name, Rena.” She called out softly. “With hands, though.” With hands? Like charades? That seemed to be what the unicorn boy was doing as well, gesturing at the door, confirming that she wanted to go inside. Rena was about to gesture back, when the boy seized her by the wrist and dragged her through the door. She blinked in surprise as he dragged her along as if he had a better idea of where they were going than she did. She had never met anyone so unaware of the idea of ‘personal space’, so open with emotions, so willing to spontaneously make physical contact. So she let him drag her, powerless to do much else, and listened to him speak smoothly, if rather nervously, in his entrancing, alien language. He seemed to be taking an interest in the ship, running his fingers along the planks, and Rena was anxious to bridge this communication gap in any way she could. She touched the planks near his finger, gesturing around them with the other hand, trying to indicate the ship as a whole. “Storm Crow,” she said slowly, pronouncing each syllable sharply. The boy seemed to catch on, and then gestured to himself. "Kah-lick-ee," he said, then pointed to Rena. What was he trying to say? Clearly he meant himself, but was he telling her his name, or was that, perhaps, his way of saying ‘unicorn’? Rena peered at him. “Kay-lee-key?” she said, having difficulty reproducing the oddly formed syllables with her own tongue. “Your name is Kah-lee-key? Or is a unicorn a Kah-lee-key?” Naturally, he couldn’t understand, but she felt the need to say something to try to understand, and to indicate her confusion. But he was pointing at her, asking her about herself. What to answer? Should she say ‘werewolf’ or ‘phoenix’? Explaining she was a hybrid would be very difficult. At last, she decided to assume he was telling her his name. She patted her open palm on her chest and slowly said “Reh-nah.”*
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...I Wish I Knew What Was Going On Inside You... [10 Jun 2004|01:41pm]
Ooc: Eeep. Just realized I’ve been thinking Bellianne is Chammy’s sister. Opps.

*Tyler sighed heavily, still rubbing Chammy’s back comfortingly, all of her muscles feeling tense and bunched. “Chammy…you hate this, don’t you? You hate being dependant on me and my apartment and my Corvidery. You’ve had damned bad luck with men; always choosing the ones that you need to depend on the most.” Stupid, Tyler Cath. How was that supposed to help her? But something told him that getting it all out in the open would ease her load somehow. She missed family, needed it, needed to be with people who she didn’t feel like she was imposing herself on. “You miss Marriette. It’s okay.” His voice so full of reassuring confidence that it startled him. “We could go down to VIA HQ and see if Rojer is around today…or how about Rani? We could see Rani…” He was hoping this would be a last resort. The sociopathic, gothic, destructive, pyromaniacal, demonic dragon that was Chammy’s younger half-sister worried him, but in this particular case, he was desperate to do whatever would calm Chammy down. "I can't go out like this!" “Chammy, no one is going to care what you look like. And if anyone does…well, I have my gun with me.” He dared a smile. Chammy seemed to be calming down…kind of. It didn’t stop him from feeling horribly uncomfortable. “No, Chammy, you’re not being an idiot…” he could feel the wetness of her tears on his shoulder soaking through his shirt. “It’s up to you, Chammy, really. Whatever you want to do. If you really don’t want to go out, we don’t have to, but I think it would make you feel better…because don’t thin for a moment I’m going to let you drown yourself in beer again.”*
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...Lift Me When My Wings Forget How to Fly... [10 Jun 2004|01:22pm]
*Zohariel was rather content to see Joseph grin at him. Comedy was vastly under-appreciated there days in the dark vampiric city, but was a sure people-pleaser…even with assassins. “If Charon’s clever, he’ll leave you on the bank of the Acheron…” he muttered irritably. He continued to keep his eyes on Everette, filled with hesitant mistrust, but allowing the vampire to apply whatever it was he was rubbing on the crow’s forehead. “Well, you’re full of surprises, aren’t you, Black Widow? A hitman AND a vet. You’re reading me all wrong. I assure you, I’m very grateful to be in one piece, just a little…uh…concerned about what your sort do with…uh…’spies’ is far too strong a word…” He was pleased at Annie’s clear distain at his mention of a cage; here was a cultured bird. Maybe he wasn’t giving the old feather duster quite enough credit. He was shocked when Everette put him down and told him he could go. Zohariel could see no gun glinting anywhere to shoot him as he flew off, no net to throw over him…was this guy serious? “You're obviously not much of a threat..." Zohariel bristled. “Excuse me? Perhaps I’ve misunderstood, but you seem to think I’m no good. Pft, when VIA comes to track you down and you’re hanging from the end of a rope, you’ll have me to thank, buster.” Opps. Okay, try that again. “Eh, don’t worry about me. I have no one to report to anyway.” That was when the real jolt of the situation hit him. Black Widow was letting him go…but he had nowhere to go. How ironic. He certainly wasn’t going to fly back to Cath to sit in the Corvidery day after day waiting to be rented by some moronic person who would use him as a delivery boy. Still, he’d best get away while he had the chance and worry about where he was going later. He began to flap his wings, but each stroke seemed feeble as he rose into the air gradually. Already, with that slight effort, his vision was fogging swiftly and his wings immediately began to seize up in protest of his physical activity after bloodloss. He had gotten about a quarter of the way up the building when he couldn’t flap any longer, and made a less-than-graceful spiral (more like a dive-bomb, really) back to the alley floor, his little chest heaving and shivering from exertion as he staggered to regain balance, worryingly close to Joseph’s large feet. He grinned up at the vampires sheepishly. “Hehe…err…would one of you fellas be, uh, kind enough to get the door?”*

ooc: Yeuch. Just watched a crow having its wing amputated on Animal Planet, and after wards he was so dopey and depressed…*clutches her ickle Zohariel* He just lost so much blood…anyway, thought that would supply some reason or my odd post. Other than that I don’t want to leave Everette and Joseph, who are incredibly fun.
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...How Far Can Impotence Take You?... [09 Jun 2004|03:00pm]
Ooc: *drool is slowly puddling on the floor*

*Zohariel jolted slightly at the sound of the pistol snapping shut, but didn’t struggle. If he was going to have a bullet put through him, he didn’t want it in his back. His clan would have given him full marks for bravery. But he watched with bated breath as both vampires’ guns returned to their holsters. As Everette began mopping his wound, Zohariel began to feel put-out. “Oh, lovely job, Klaxtil. He knew you were on the ledge the whole time. Brilliant work there. You creep like a shadow on cat’s paws.” He scolded himself. At least this Black Widow guy didn’t seem interested in putting a hole through his skull. Zoh supposed that ought to be comforting. Not that you could ever really trust assassins. Still, he relaxed in the hands that held him, arching a brow at Annie, “’Elder’ is a bit of an understatement, doncha think?” His eyes flashed. Yup, if he was going down, he was going to be sarcastic, cynical and obnoxious right down to the last second of his existence. “Thanks very much for giving me the choice there, ‘Anichahara’, but if you aren’t planning on shooting me, I’m perfectly content to keep my neck, if that’s perfectly convenient.” He glanced at Joseph with a scowl. Something in his instincts told him to trust that vampire even less than the one that held him, despite the disagreeable stranger not being an infamous hitman. “Then again, if you’re not going to kill me, what do you plan to do with me? I’d rather meet my maker here and now than rot away in some cage filled with seed like a canary.”*
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...Please Don't Cry for Me... [09 Jun 2004|02:46pm]
*Tyler thought he was going to get another lecture, and decided the more he went along with it, the sooner this would be over with. “Yes, Chammy, we’re both idiots.” What came next he had not expected. Chammy didn’t cry. She just…didn’t. With the exception of the odd occasion when her bastard ex-husband sent her a letter that really rattled her, which wasn’t as often as Tyler would have thought. Tyler had thought the situation couldn’t get any worse, but this…this was far worse than staring down a gun’s barrel. This was something Tyler didn’t know how to deal with. “Oh, Chammy, please don’t…” He shuffled forward, putting his arms around her and rubbing her back soothingly. “Chammy, don’t…please, Chammy…I’m sorry.” Were those the only words he knew how to say? “I know, it was completely idiotic, I honestly wasn’t thinking. I feel awful that I didn’t think of you, sitting in this apartment by yourself all day. It was the worst possible time to leave you alone, just after He wrote you. And I’m sorry I sent Klax after Black Widow, I…I didn’t know you felt so strongly about him.” He kept rubbing her shoulders, frantically trying to concoct some way of stopping Chammy’s tears. “We could go to Bellianne’s shop now instead, if you want. Or we could go get something to eat. Come on, let’s go out, I imagine you don’t want to spend any longer cooped up in this apartment. Wherever you want to go; I’ll pay for the cab.”*

ooc: Tyler, you have absolutely no woman-handling experience, do you?
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...I Don't Even Know Your Name... [09 Jun 2004|02:45pm]
*Rena frowned a little. She hadn’t meant to make the unicorn boy feel like he was in the spotlight, as she seemed to have done, judging by how hurriedly he wiped his damp cheeks on the back of his hand. She bit her lip, beginning to feel like she was being rather cruel, staring at him like some animal in a cage. Maybe she should back off. Maybe. So entranced was she by this stranger that she had paid no heed to Carde and Asher at the end of the boat. They didn’t really seem to matter just now. She was still shivering, and feeling foolish, unable to say anything to the boy. But now he was approaching her. Completely unexpectedly, he opened his arms, and put them around her shoulders. Rena blinked dumbly, caught off guard. He was hugging her! Awkwardly, Rena raised her own arms and put them around his shoulders, patting him on the back in a maladroit manner, feeling foolish. He murmured something in her ear. She couldn’t understand a word of the silken language, but it sounded like gratitude. She smiled, feeling slightly less wrong-footed. “You’re welcome…” she said, not entirely sure she had interpreted his meaning correctly. Oh well, he wouldn’t know what she had said either. At last, he let go. Rena wasn’t sure whether she was relieved or disappointed. He removed his own blanket from his shoulders and draped it around hers, rubbing them to warm them up. She smiled to show she was grateful, but shook her head. “No, you’ll get cold. It’s freezing out here in the wind. She felt much warmer now, with the various blankets covering her, and the unicorn boy warming her with his hands, as she stood silently and listened to his strange language as it rolled over her. Was he chiding her? It didn’t matter. They just had to get out of the wind. The boy would probably feel more comfortable in a cabin where there was no one to gawk at him, anyway. She turned around and could see Tasha staring at them with her arms crossed over, clearly disapproving of them staying outside in dripping clothes. She turned to Sybaris. “Yeah, maybe we should go inside and warm up. I’m sure the boys wouldn’t mind if we, uh, borrowed some clothing for our…” Guest? Passenger? Prisoner? Frankly, Rena wasn’t sure how their captain was regarding all of this. She turned back to the unicorn. Despite his kind gesture in giving her the blanket, he looked awfully cold. “Let’s get him inside, Sybaris. I should really change, anyway, I’m beginning to smell like dead fish.” She furrowed her brows, studying the boy, “This feels so strange…and I feel so guilty. I don’t even know your name.”*

ooc: Heh, reminds me of The Little Mermaid for some reason :P
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...Bridging the Gap... [08 Jun 2004|08:57am]
*Rena was still shivering as Tasha tightly tucked a blanket around her and began to wring out her hair. “He followed me home. Can I keep him?” she joked, though chattering teeth. Rena’s lips were turning blue, and she was grateful of all the warm bodies clustered around her. Perhaps a bit too warm. Rena’s keen werewolf senses could detect it, though not half so well as the full-weres could. Tasha reeked of sweat…and not entirely of her own. Rena smiled, all the same. Lucky Tasha had someone, she should be allowed to do what she wanted, away from prying eyes…and noses. Tasha busied herself with the unicorn for a moment, while Rena turned to Annushka. “Why can’t he speak to me?” She felt the unicorn move in her grasp and he pulled away sharply. She rather wished he’d come back; she was still in the mind-set that if she let go of him she would fall into the unforgiving water below. At least she still had Sybaris’s hand. She watched the boy walk towards the front of the ship. She bit her lip, struggling to stand, drawing the blankets tight around her and letting go of Sybaris. The boy was staring at Carde. She knew that face, that expression, that stare. Loss, grief, yearning. He turned away, slumping against the wall to the front cabins. He looked so wet, his cropped hair matted flat, drops of water running down his face looking almost like tears. They were tears. Drat it. Rena walked forward shakily, staring at him through green-brown eyes. “You okay?” He didn’t respond. He could have no idea what she said. So she looked at him with her brows drawn in and her face frowning slightly, in an expression of worry and concern, and held out her hand tentatively; ‘I want to help you’. God, she had never seen anyone look so lost and forlorn. Except, maybe, her crow, when she had left him behind.*
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...Do Whatever it is You Do... [08 Jun 2004|08:56am]
Ooc: Bwawk! *squishes* Gah, Everette’s too cool. And yeah, I figured he wouldn’t shoot my ickle birdy. *follows them around drooling*

*Zohariel resisted the thumb that turned his head to the side, though not particularly energetically. He felt like his energy was being leeched away. The thumb that pressed against his beak was firm, but not forceful. He saw a flurry of black feathers and his heart leapt; perhaps Tyler had sent one of the Corvidery ravens after him. But then Everette began to talk to her and Zohariel’s hopes plummeted again. He grated his beak in troubled annoyance as the raven hopped down Everette’s arm to perch near where Zohariel was pinioned. “Bright? Look at the raven calling the starling ‘black’. Look, old girl, if you had run into a window you wouldn’t be feeling in the peak of health either. And don’t tell me I’m stupid to have run into it; you know how annoying windows are. Now, if you’re going to peck my eyes out or your human there is going to put a bullet through me or slit my throat or whatever assassins do, I’ll thank you to get it over with and stop milking it.” His eyes flickered between the raven and her human. The black of the raven’s plumes seemed to be blurring with the pale vampire’s skin, and Zohariel knew his vision was going hazy. Not good. “As for my human?...I don’t have one. And even if I did, I’m hardly about to tell you and Black Spinster here, am I, granny?” Zohariel may have been stupid, but he certainly wasn’t stupid…Uh…wait…does that work?*
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...Trust Me Like I Trust You... [08 Jun 2004|08:55am]
*Tyler got up so fast that he nearly knocked over the couch. He stumbled backwards and his back thudded against the wall. “Now, Chammy…” she was wearing her whatever-you-say-will-result-in-your-getting-shot face. He had seen it used on one too many criminals they had stalked who had found Chammy attractive. Needless to say, the feeling wasn’t mutual. Looking at her now was like staring down the barrel of a gun as her finger twitched on the trigger. “Chammy, just take a minute to calm down. Breathe.” Her voice was sweet and controlled, which, unfortunately, indicated a Chammy-on-the-edge. “How about we make some tea?” he asked hesitantly, with a weak smile. Typical Tyler-esque behavior. If something was wrong, you could drown it in drink of some kind, though he rarely overdid it like Chammy had the habit of doing. Keeping close to the wall, he passed into the kitchen and began foraging for teacups. He could sense Chammy standing in the doorway, her presence immense. “I’m sorry I worried you, Chammy. I just…I HAD to find Black Widow. I don’t know why, I know he’s none of our concern. But…you saw him, you met him, you know how…intriguing he was. And Klax just kept urging me to go find him; I think he was just as interested as I was, maybe more so. I just kept trying, and I lost track of the time…” A teacup dropped from his hand and smashed on the tiles. “Dammit.” He hadn’t realized his hands were shaking. Tyler’s hands never shook. Tyler’s hand was as steady as a rock. But, facing this most dangerous of enemies, which he could, in no way, hurt back…He swept up the shards of the cup and emptied them into the trash bin. “I’ll make it up to you. We’ll take tomorrow off work as well, I’ll close the Corvidery for some occasion, um…’Butcherbird Day’ or something like that. And we’ll go have a day on the town. How about that? We could go visit Bellianne.” Chammy steadily continued to stare at him in a homicidal fashion. Tyler tended to use Bellianne as an extra shoulder for Chammy to lean on when his own masculine empathy wouldn’t suffice. Of the few pictures hanging in Tyler’s apartment, most of them were from Bellianne’s shop. “Chammy, Klax knows what he’s doing. He’s not about to let one feather on his body get blown the wrong way. Trust me. No, trust Klax.”

Of course, if Tyler had known that, at that very minute, Klax was bleeding profusely and gripped in the hands of Black Widow himself, Tyler would be fearing for his life. Scratch that, Tyler would have skipped town by now.*
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...My Saviors... [07 Jun 2004|05:22pm]
*Rena watched the rope in the Kalyke’s strong hands anxiously as she clung to his wet back, hanging on for dear life. She saw the rope go taught, and she managed a smile; someone was pulling them up. Another wave swept over them, again submerging Rena, but as the rope was swiftly reeled in she was pulled free of the water, gripping the unicorn with all of her strength. She closed her eyes tightly as they began to burn from the salt water. It was then that she felt the unicorn beneath her suddenly become hard to hold; the hair was shrinking away, replaced by smooth, slippery skin. She opened her eyes, and found herself with her arms tight around the muscular chest of a young man with blonde hair and fiercely blue eyes. She was slipping, but one of the man’s arms was around her. He was murmuring in a desperate tone in a beautiful language Rena had never heard before. No wonder it had taken him so long to react to her commands; he didn’t understand what she was saying. At last, a pair of arms reached out to them, and Rena seized one of Selena’s strong hands.
She collapsed on the deck on all fours, tail between her legs. She coughed sickeningly, heaving again and again, retching forth a flood of salt water and gasping for air. She was shivering violently, not so much from cold as from shock. Sybaris came forward, sniffing her, and Rena fervently raised a hand to clutch Sybaris’s. It was then that she realized her other arm was still hooked around the unicorn-boy’s waist, still clinging on as if her life depended on it. But she wouldn’t let go, of either of them.
Selena returned with blankets mercifully quickly, but Rena, still clutching Sybaris and the unicorn stubbornly, could not pull it around herself. She looked up at the African werewolf, and managed another smile. “Thank you, Sele-“ an awful choking noise came from her throat, and she leaned away to another spasm of coughing, but soon looked up again, the smile not lost. “…Captain.” In response to Selena’s question, Rena could only shake her head; she had no idea how the unicorn-boy had gotten all the way out to the Storm Crow. Exhausted, she bent her head to stair at the planks below her as they were soaked by her dripping body.*
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