Absit Omen RPG
Role-Play Boards => More London Locations => London => Burgoyne Burbidges Lofts => Topic started by: Waverly Roh-Ballentyne on November 22, 2019, 08:52:16 AM
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Directly following 4 Feb 2012 - Left My Arm in my Sleeve [M] (https://absitomen.com/index.php?topic=20616.0)
4 Feb 2012 at 11pm
Burgoyne & Burbidges Lofts
Barking, London
Waverly Roh-Ballentyne Apparated to the courtyard of the once churning muggle chemical factory that had since been turned into affordable magical lofts. She was dazed with a warm face and cold hands, latter of which were stuffed in the pockets of her light blue coat. She nearly stumbled upon re-appearing, her toe snagging a bit of protruding pavement. Above her, some of the large arched windows of the flats were lit up, but most were dark. It was late - anyone up was out, anyone in was asleep.
She’d just asked a vampire to bite her and take her blood. She’d dared face the unknown with only a enticing, dangerous tale from Virgil Carstairs who was not exactly a volunteer.[1] She’d been face to face, veins to mouth, hand to thigh with Terrence Hooker, who unbeknowns to her, was possibly the most ruthless and uncaring of his Camden Town Hookers. She’d hurried hurried out. The overwhelming feeling of being drunk (Virgil had said ‘better than sex’) followed by the shock of it ending had her rushing home. She didn’t know what was next, only that it invoved being wholly alone. She needed to come down, she needed to wake up, she needed to reclaim herself after she’d freely given some of it away.
Just as he was pulling open the doorway into the main lobby, she nearly bumped into a young man at the mailboxes. She stood back and stared at him with mania behind her eyes.
It was Figaro Sellaphix, another tennent and Waverly’s former classmate; they only knew each other because it was required. One couldn’t help it over the passing of seven years in the same cohort. She’d always found him a bit much and he’d felt the same just on a different axis.
He stared back, taking in the state she was in.
“Roh. You alright?” he asked, using her nickname from school. One of her professors had fumbled her name first year and it stuck.
After a beat, she cocked her head. “What are you here?”
Figaro held up a bit of post. “I … live here?”
“You what?”
Figuring Waverly was either drunk or high, Fig nodded towards the stair. “Maybe go to bed.”
Waverly nodded, gave him a final long look. So sweet. So innocent. A boy with all his blood.