birthright_rpg | Entries tagged with brian

Brian sat on a long bench at the Reno Avenue bus stop. Overhead, an awning lined with fluorescent lights cast a bluish glow on his skin. Behind the bench, a wall of ads hawked hair and skin care products. Someone had drawn a magic marker dick on an ad for Oil of Olay face cream. He flipped through a magazine until he got bored, and then he rolled it into a tube. His Toyota was in the shop for an oil leak, which stuck him with public transportation as a means to get between work, practice, and his apartment.

A bum hunched at the opposite corner of the bench with a boombox playing Lionel Ritchie's "Hello". The man was fast asleep with a half-empty bottle of liquor between his feet.

Brian eyed the power button. 'Wonder if I can...' He narrowed his eyes and focused, but as hard as he stared, he couldn't depress it with his brain. A change in tactic was needed. After a quick check of his surroundings, he flexed his fingers and flung out his arm, pretending to throw an object at the button.

The whole boombox pitched to the side and clattered onto the sidewalk.

The bum jolted upright and looked around for the culprit.

Brian became preoccupied with his hair.

[Thread: Open to Anyone]

valerie_vause

Things unravelled in the oddest of ways. Everything that had happened since she’d gotten to UNLV had been quite unusual. With so many different things happening Valerie had pulled away, secluded herself and thrown her focus into school and patrolling. Not that it really helped, because Brian was there in her thoughts, just under the surface. Reminding her of the dangers that being with him could lead to. The fact that there was a Watcher where she spent her daylight hours unnerved the blonde and she had to wonder if the woman would be against her seeing anyone. The Council liked their girls to concentrate on the supernatural entities. Then something happened, a change began to take place as she came to the conclusion that since Rhiannon also patrolled, taking a night off wasn’t a crime.

Valerie had felt the anxiety shift to something else, not anger, but a restless energy that she turned into purpose. Her entire life since she’d been called had revolved solely around her duty. Time for a change. Time for her to get a life of her own. Gathering up a few things, gum, wallet, keys, the blonde hesitated and turned to open the mini fridge freezer. Fingers caught the thin metal case she’d kept under the ice cube tray and slid it into her back pocket. All in all it was a bit bigger than a pencil case, half an inch thick, with a little clip to keep it locked.

She strode out of her room and through the dorm before it occurred to her that she hadn’t changed. It doesn’t matter. The voice in the back of her mind said, and Valerie nodded and continued onward into the night. Jeans spattered with paint, torn in places, and streaked with blood from accidents happening in patrol. After a few washes the dried crimson had turned orange, and most people chalked it up as some sort of paint or that she’d wiped pasta sauce down them. Blonde hair was hidden by the hoody, underneath it a clean t-shirt sported the same kind of artistic abuse as her jeans.

Legs might have been short but they carried her at a fast pace, and within half an hour she’d managed to walk straight to Brian’s apartment building. Valerie tilted her head back to take a good look at it, street lights casting it in a pale glow that seemed to emphasize how old it was. Small chips and cracks could be seen, the faintest hints of moss clung in sparse patches further up, and she splayed a palm against the bricks to feel the rough texture. Old, but oddly beautiful. Both hands lifted then to push the hood down as the blonde took in a slow breath and checked her watch. Nine at night wasn’t that late to show up unannounced, was it? Only then did she realise he might not even be in. Why hadn’t she called? Oh, right, fear.

Shaking herself out of it, Valerie gathered herself as best she could and knocked three times on Brian’s door. If he didn’t answer at least she’d followed through on her impulse, and that was better than nothing.

birthright_npc

The hotel's crowning achievement is its roof, which features an open-air bar with live music, a dance floor, and two sparkling pools. Servers wander with trays of hors d'oeuvres (included in the cover charge). There will be fireworks at midnight.

[Thread open to anyone.]

holiday_pirner

When Holly entered Tracks, the record store was mostly empty, save for a few people milling over some new releases. A Cinderella track was playing over the sound system, and strains of glam metal accompanied the brunette as she wandered over to the cassettes.

As she rifled through the Q's, trying to find a Queen album a friend had recommended, a movement in her periphery caught her eye. A boy, maybe in his mid-teens, was grasping a few tapes in his hand and acting twitchy.

Holly tilted her head, watching him closely. He was too busy looking out for store employees to notice her, until she pointedly cleared her throat. "Are you sure those are the ones you really want? I mean, if you're going to opt for the five finger discount, make it worth your while."

The brunette approached him, ignoring his surprised glare. She grabbed one of the tapes and held it up. "This one isn't too bad, but...is that Quarterflash?" Holly shook her head disapprovingly. "I think someone should call your parents just to warn them of their son's budding horrible taste in music."

He pulled away from her, grabbing the cassettes back. "Do you work here?"

brian_campo

Brian loaded an amp into the van and shoved it across the floorboard. The wheels belonged to Mikey, who bought the vehicle to transport his drums all over town. Now it served as the band’s transportation to and from their practice space and shows. Fully loaded, there wasn’t even room for a copilot, forget about a hapless kid hoping for free candy.

He mopped sweat from his forehead. The gesture made his hair stand at funky angles.

From the back of the Dive, a male voice yelled, “Hey, Brian. I’m gonna get a beer. You comin’ in?”

“Nah, I’m good.” He hopped on the tailgate, electing to sit in the alley by himself. It was rare, but every once in a while, he got sick of the crowd in there. All the body contact with strangers dripping beer and sweat as they squeezed into line at the bar, the odors of pot and crack smoke mingling in the bathroom stalls, and even the noise got to him. It was claustrophobic. He wouldn’t be out there for long – another band was going on in twenty and he wanted to hear their set – so he decided to soak up the privacy while he had a chance.

He tugged his foot onto his knee to inspect a scuff in his boot. An impeccable appearance wasn’t on his must-do list, but the boots were sacred turf. He licked his thumb and rubbed the mark.

[Thread: Open to Tristan]

brian_campo

In a back corner of the UNLV student union, a baby grand sat unused and ever so slightly out of tune. In a display of misguided generosity, a housekeeper had set a basket of artificial ferns on it, lending an imitation of life. The fronds of that were dust-laden, too. Brian sat on the bench, which swayed under his weight, and lifted the cover to reveal the keys: white tinged yellow, black gone dull. He liked to tinker with it on Fridays when everyone left for the weekend. Nobody cared; in his jeans and ratty Mondale-Ferraro ‘84 t-shirt, he looked as much like a student as the next guy.

This instrument provided his only access to a full-sized piano. He enjoyed the chance to stretch his fingers and reach for notes at the far ends of the register. When he was alone at the piano, he thought a lot about being a kid, about learning to play. He remembered the monotony of practicing basic chords and scales, the certainty that he would never be taught anything more exciting than Little Brown Jug, and how his Supreme Ultimate Goal was the Peanuts theme song. Later, the pride of his first “grown-up song”, Beethoven’s Bagatelle in A Minor, Op. 59, and the thrill of figuring out that he didn’t have to wait for sheet music – he could make up songs. And so “Brian’s Brains in D Minor” was born.

Over the years, he had written many more, some for the Fraying Nerves, some for himself. The most recent was called, predictably, “Hands Gone Ape-Shit.” He hunched his shoulders and picked out the melody.

[Thread: Open to Julianna]

valerie_vause

After class Valerie had taken a shower, then spent the next twenty minutes changing her outfit over and over again. The first had been a pair of black pants and a dark hoody. The blonde had looked at herself in the mirror and sighed. “Hi Brian, I’ll be stealing your wallet tonight.” She’d changed quickly into a skirt with a low cut top to match and decided she looked more like a call girl than anything else. That got removed for a dress that stopped just above her knees, and Valerie had to remind herself that they were hanging out, not planning to attend the theater. The blonde stood with her head against the wall in dismay for a few minutes, and contemplated calling to say that she was sick. Well, it wasn’t far off, she felt nervous enough.

Eventually she had left in a pair of dark jeans that flared at the bottom. Perfect to wear with boots, which meant a slim though sturdy stake could be slid inside, point down. With it concealed out of sight she didn’t have to bother with a bag and she found a nice fitting t-shirt to slip on. Admittedly it was dark green and on the front the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles stood proudly. It didn’t matter though because she grabbed a sweater to pull over it. The thick forest green fabric felt soft but light against her skin. It would keep her warm enough that she didn’t need a jacket.

Valerie made it to Tracks with five minutes to spare, and she took a moment to collect herself. Right now her hair was tied back, and although her hand went to pull it free she stopped. It was only a neck, she didn’t have to have it covered with her hair all the time. Hands checked her pants to make sure she still had her wallet before she fished out a packet of gum and took a piece. She chewed it roughly for a second or two to let out the anxiety. With a slow breath she pushed the door open and stepped inside.

Even at seven the place had customers. Valerie relaxed a little and began to half browse the shelves as she made her way to the counter. It was better than actively standing out as she looked around for Brian. Maybe she’d been too presumptuous about how free he had been. Or was that optimistic? Valerie ignored the voice in her head and almost tripped over a guy looking at an Aerosmith cassette. He grumbled under his breath and she found herself mumbling an apology as she moved on quickly.

valerie_vause

( Voicemail For Brian. )

valerie_vause

During the day the campus thrived. Sunlight made the buildings glow. It kept smiles on faces and brought forth joy to be there. During the night it came alive. Groups formed, wandered and grew to inevitably find a party of interest. Couples walked hand in hand under the stars. Things came out of the shadows to mingle. Valerie walked with her head tipped back to find the moon, a sliver in the sky that looked like a wicked smile, the kind that held secrets. She didn’t return it, simply blinked before she focused on where she was actually going. The air smelled fresh, the faintest of breezes tickled her skin and she sighed.

She felt lucky to be there, to actually live the dream she’d had as a teenager. Valerie tried to appreciate these moments as they came, because who was to say it wouldn’t be the last? The blonde fiddled with the Walkman she had clipped to waistband of her jeans before realising she’d accidentally unplugged the headphones. “Idiot.” She muttered under her breath, stuck the headphones back in, and nearly burst her eardrums. Fingers found the volume and turned it down as she reeled slightly. Yeah well, who needs hearing anyway. Distracted, she almost tripped over a bag someone had left at the bushes by the path. No wait, that wasn’t a bag, that was a person.

Valerie spun to crouch by the girl, it looked as if someone or something had tried to pull her behind them by her feet. “They were trying to hide you.” The words were whispered as the blonde pressed two fingers at the woman’s neck and found no pulse, though her skin felt warm to the touch. She looked to be in her mid twenties, pale but even in death she looked fresh faced. Valerie used her fingers under the woman’s chin to turn her head towards her and felt her heart sink. “I’m sorry.” Two puncture wounds seeped crimson before her eyes and she had to stand up. Still fresh, the blood hadn‘t even begun to congeal. It was always hard finding a body, it was harder when she knew without a doubt that she’d missed the attack by minutes. The blonde caught sight of something clutched in the woman’s hand and pried it free. A chunk of black fabric. She slipped it into her pocket before heading off.

It took her twenty minutes to find the vampire after she’d alerted the campus security about the girl anonymously. By then he’d made his way around the campus and back to a party. He was new, maybe a few days, Valerie had found out he belonged to a frat according to his buddies she’d met by the punch bowl. Any longer and they’d have noticed his absence during the day, especially in classes. They had thought she’d been asking questions about him because she was interested in seeing him. The blonde didn’t bother to correct them and so when they walked her over to meet him she’d smiled sweetly and told him her name. She yawned when he talked and fed him a lie about being wiped out from classes. When he offered to walk her back to her dorm she couldn’t refuse.

( Run if you want & Voicemail for Brian. )

brian_campo

“Hey, Brian. Get your shit together, man!”

“Sorry.”

The Dive was an aptly-named bar about a mile from the famous strip. Its customers were locals and many of them were students at the university. The odors of beer and cigarette smoke had long ago soaked into the wood paneling on the walls, and Brian had never known a time when the cement floor wasn’t sticky. Even so, it was the kind of hole in the wall where people flocked to escape tourism. There was a pool room in the back, drinks were cheap, and the chicken fingers from the kitchen weren’t half bad.

The doors opened at 8 p.m. That left time for a final sound check, one that hadn’t gone well for Brian, who was typically thought of as the technician of the group because he was the only one with formal training. When he screwed up, it was a bad sign.

“You skipped the bridge,” Seth complained. “We sounded like amateurs.”

“We are amateurs,” Mikey called from behind the drum kit.

( Distracted )

wolfs_daughter

The van rattled over the gravel of the trailer park's narrow track as Echo guided it back to her lot, and she parked it before killing the engine. She'd bought a chair and a small coffee table from someone who'd put up a For Sale notice at the community center, and with this purchase her furniture situation was mostly dealt with. And the day was winding down, so it wouldn't be too much hot work to lug them inside.

But maybe later.

Searchlight was small enough that you could walk most of it in a couple of hours, so the hybrid decided to make a fast grocery run to pick up something for supper. They had an okay selection considering that the place was pretty small, and she just needed something simple like pork chops and lettuce for a salad. The Wolf demanded meat, and she was willing to feed that need.

She picked up a plastic basket from the small stack at the front of the store, began to pick her way towards the meat section. Pork chops. Lettuce. Maybe a candy bar if they sold Paydays here. No one said she couldn't have sweets, right?

brian_campo

( Behind the Counter at Tracks )

brian_campo

Brian stared at the occult shop, hands in his pockets. It was his reason for driving down to Searchlight. In Las Vegas, these kinds of shops felt like tourist traps, and he worried about running into someone he knew, like a kid who recognized him from a show. His band, the Fraying Nerves, wasn’t famous, not even locally, so it was a conceited stretch to imagine that. Still. His luck, it would happen.

He wasn’t going in. He just wanted to look, to picture himself walking in, to get used to the idea.

Through the filter of sunglasses, he looked around himself. The town was a pit stop on the highway. Dusty, quiet, bright as fucking Tatooine. None of the buildings were tall enough to block the sun. Everything looked bleached.

“Hey, Mr. Hollywood, mind stepping aside so I can buy that paper?”

“Huh?”

A man held up a quarter and gestured at the newspaper stand Brian leaned on.

“Oh, sorry.” Brian straightened up. Embarrassed, he crossed the street and kept walking until he came to a diner. He ducked inside without checking the name and slid into an empty chair. A whoosh of air conditioning chilled the sweat on his face and his arm pits. He tried to discreetly inspect them. Two wet circles darkened his Smiths t-shirt. Great.

He mopped his face on his shoulder and took a menu.

[Thread: Open to Valerie]

brian_campo

”I’ve got magic hands.”

Wow. That looks like a pick-up line. Erase that.

“A lot of people have talents. Some talents include basketball and singing. Mine is magic.”

Great, now it’s a poorly written tenth grade term paper...

“I don’t know how to tell you this, so I’m just going to spit it out. A couple of weeks ago, I was an amateur keyboardist trying to cut a demo with a band I’m pretty sure is ripping off Killing Joke. My biggest concern was whether to pay my rent or buy an amp. Now I seem to be doing magic, only I’m not sure that’s the right word for what I’m doing.”

Better.

“You think I’m crazy. Maybe you’re wondering if you should call the police. Don’t worry. I’m not going to show up at your door. I just needed one person in this city to know what I’m going through and I can’t tell my buddies. That’s out of the question. So like I said, this started a couple of weeks ago. I was in traffic. I was late for a show and this Chevy was blocking the intersection. I started to get pissed. I hit my horn and I called him dick-breath (not my best moment). He didn’t move, so I wailed on my steering wheel. I was strung out and I felt like if he didn’t move that second my brain would explode. I remember this, I yelled, “MOVE!” and here’s the thing. The whole car moved. Not mine, his.

“I know what you’re thinking. This idiot was so high that he rear-ended somebody and thinks it was magic”

Reasonable assumption.

“Actually, that freaked me out so bad I stopped using for the week. Guess what? It keeps happening, and I don’t know why. I can only think of three possible reasons. 1) I’m breaking the laws of physics. The physical world doesn’t react me to the same way; 2) There’s a God with a weird sense of humor. He’s interpreting what I’m saying as prayers and granting them. But I think that means I’m a saint. I’m not comfortable with that; 3) I’m a warlock in Dungeons and Dragons.

( Read more... )

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Birthright

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Entries tagged with brian

The Bus Stop

After Dark

Thread 3: Skylark Roof

Bad Tastes

Introverts Make Convenient Targets

Songs From the Creaky Chair

Walk This Way

Plans

Choices

Sound Check

Natural Allies?

Valerie's Mix Tape

Checking Things Out

Letter to a Stranger

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