Once upon a time (Open)

[Branton Applegate]

For the hundredth time, Branton's emerald green eyes scanned over the books at his finger tips. His hand gently brushing across the surface of each spine. His somatic sensory system picking up on the varying textures of each book. From the withered and soft of an old classic, to the fresh and crisp of a new paperback. Each having a story of their own to tell. Some brought you to historical places in time, others told you secrets of a person's life, but his favorite had to be those that open the door to a new world, a fantasy. Walking down the immensely larger non-fiction aisle, Branton began to tap each, and every book he passed. His index finger creating a loud tap-tap noise. Something that wasn't exactly smile upon within a place of silence, but that would require him to actually give a damn. 

"No. Nope. Ew, you're just straight up boring." Scrunching up his nose in distaste at the book. Branton leaned in toward the self, and whispered as if it had an ear. "You know. I never did like non-fiction." Leaning back he took one last look at the five hundred something pages, and made a shoo gesture toward it. "Go away." With his little heart-to-heart over with, he gave a mocking bow to his audience, and went on his marry way. His hands imminently going back to the tapping as he came around the corner. It had taken a while, but Branton finally realized that he had actually taken a moment to stop, and have a conversation with a book. An inanimate object that had no way of speaking back. Bringing his hand up he proceeded to promptly slam his palm directly into his face. God, he really hoped no one saw that.

Letting out a sigh. He began to pat down his pockets for a familiar shape as he walked toward the nearest desk. "Aha!" Holding up his lighter in victory he pulled out a chair, and sat down in it. The stack of books in his other arm placed in front of him. "Looks like it's Harry Potter... Again." With a roll of the eyes he pulled the first of the seven toward him. Yet again flipping it one to the first page of thousands to come.

[.:|Vincent|:.]

Hollowhill Grove was being bombarded....by the sky. Not too long after Vincent had left the precinct by foot the sky had opened up into a torrential downpour. He swore under his breathe as he moved from one covering to the next not quite sure he wanted to walk to his home in this mess. Lightning crashed in the sky, thunder bellowing out it's gutteral roars. "Blimey...." Vincent sighed as he stood underneath a cafe overhang. People left and right were running to nearest cover, ducking into shops and stores to escape the water that was quickly flooding the gutters of the streets.

He peered about for the next possible safe haven and spotted the city library. "Better en nothin." he said to himself as he covered his head with the newspaper that he had been carrying with him and started the brisk walk across the street and up the stairs before finally meeting the two large polished oak doors. Giving one of them a firm push, he was able to squeeze his way in, the air pressure suctioning the door shut behind him with a small thud.

Brushing off the droplets that still clung to his clothing and hair he shook around a bit to free himself of what moisture he could before breathing a sigh of enlightenment of sorts. Walking forward he looked up and around him. Books lined the walls, but certain parts of void of any sort of book what-so-ever. There were one or two books sitting on the dusty empty shelves, but it was quite likely that they were simply mis-placed by some uncaring citizen.

He had never found it in himself to venture through the library, as this was his first time. Never really having time or the drive to dive into the pages of fiction when it seemed that he was practically living fiction himself along with his entire life. As he was mindlessly wandering, he heard a voice from a younger man coming from just around the corner. Peering around the corner he had taken in the sight of a young man who seemed to be a very strange one indeed. Talking to himself, bowing to God knows what, and when he finally had chosen a book he sat down and started going through the first page.

Vincent stepped around the corner and eyed the man with intruige. "Not many people in this building these days are there" he said smoothly as he slowly walked his way forward.

[Branton Applegate]

"Well -- I remember a lot of green light, but nothing else." As the words left his mouth. Branton kept subconsciously changing the tone of his voice to match the events occurring in the books. It wasn't something the brunette found himself doing often, speaking aloud to what he was reading that is, but being all alone in an empty library with his only company being dead silence didn't exactly help. The quiet was uncomfortably awkward, and maddeningly unhelpfull. "I don't know what I was expecting." He whined under his breath. "Supernatural city? Yea, the Library would have tons of people." Placing his elbow on the table, and resting his cheek on a loosely made fist Branton finally looked up from his book.

The sudden appearance of the random stranger came as a bit of a shock to the magician. His bright green eyes widening a little bit before calming down. The realization that someone could waltz right into a public building hitting him like a sack of bricks. Giving his head a small shake at his own foolishness before he answered his newly found companion. "It sure seems that way, but you never know with those vampire guys." Turning his sights back to his book he proceed to dog ear the page he was on before closing it. His other hand making a swirling gesture making his finger point all around the room. "They could be hiding in the shadows right now." Once again he whispered, this time for dramatic effect. Letting a moment pass by so that what he said could sink in. So that he could scare the older man, not knowing he was much more experience with the supernatural than he ever was.

Once the moment had passed. Branton reached underneath with his foot to the other end of the table, and kicked back the chair opposite of his. "Well then, have a seat me matey." He said as he made a welcoming wave toward the seat. Like it was some kind of malicious throne. A sheepish grin on his face the entire time that was matched with a mischievous glint his emerald hues. "Now, why don't you tell me what you brings you into this deserted building?"

[.:|Vincent|:.]

Something about this kid just sent the wrong sort of message to Vincent's head. Whether it was the odd way that he talked to himself, or the way that he seemingly attempted to diminish the darkness that truly lurked in the world. Either he had no experience with fear at all.....or he had every experience with it that was possible. He started inching his way forward, letting the guy talk, as if he was setting some sort of stage, problem was that Vince didn't know who was the main role yet.

Pulling back one of the older wooden chairs he shuffled forward and slowly drew out the chair, the legs  scraping the floor below, creaking as he easily set himself into it. He sat slouched, completely unbothered by the attempt to instill fear into him. Sniffling he dragged a thumb along the base of his nose/upper lip before tapping his cigarette pack on the table in a slow, steady beat over and over. 

"Well....you see funny you should ask that. Its currently raining like a bloody waterfall outside." he scoffed out shaking his head. "Gets hard to have a puff" Vincent claimed as he pulled a cig from the pack lighting it up in the library. Not like there was anyone around to stop him. "So...." letting the word draw out as he blew out a cloud of smoke tossing the lighter on the solid oak table. "What would one such as yourself be doing in a place like this?" Also....do you really think there are Vampires in here....?" he said leaning forward with eyes wide, feigning a bit of worry for his own fun. 

Although it was true, there could be anything in the depth of this cursed building. After all it was practically abandoned. There very well could be an Enclave of cultist Vampires dweling in the basements, or a city pack of Lycans for all he knew. But currently, as long as they left him alone....he honestly couldn't give a bloody fuck. 

[Branton Applegate]

Theatrical; It was probably, most likely, the best word that be used to describe the oddity that was the twenty-one year old. His very personality could be seen as mildly over dramatic. Often behaving in way that was meant to attract attention, but almost never genuine or sincere. Although, to those who knew the brunette, this wasn't unexpected. With him being a magician by profession, and a trickster by nature theatrical was a dominant part of his personality. This predominant mischievous side of him was reflected by the gleam in his eye as he walked his newly found companion inch closer to him. The thumb on his free hand repeatedly running across the tips of his fingers while the rest of Branton's body remained more calm and less fidgety.

By the time Vincent had reached the table, and pulled out his chair, Branton's knuckles were beginning to ache. Scrunching his nose in annoyance he slightly lifted his head away from his hand, before resting it back on it. His fingers comfortably cupping his cheek. A slim brown eyebrow shooting up behind his bangs at the pack of cigarettes, and Vincent's first response. Before ultimately his mouth form a small O' shaped ring once he had given his full reasoning. "Seriously?" He mused aloud as he reached over the table, and grasp the lighter in his hand. Half way paying attention to the conversation. "Hard to believe a rugged man such as yourself would let himself be chased by a few drops of water." He teased with a smug smirk on his face that was matched with playful glint in his emerald hues. Quickly afterward, as if to add insult to injury, Branton held up the lighter so it was in plain sight. Even clicking it a few times to help prove it was real before closing his hand around it. 

Turning his hand so that back of his fist was facing Vincent, he secretly slipped lighter into his wristband before turning his hand and opening it. Only to reveal that the object had Magically disappeared from existence. "Tada!" Placing his hand back on the table, he began to gently drum his finger thoughtfully. "Hm..." Looking up and to the right, the left-handed magician thought over how to word his response. "Well I came here to pick a book, but I also wanted to meet some new people and make friends." A half truth to say in the at least. When in reality, all he wanted to do was to mess with people. Much like he was attempting to do now. 

"Ah, I wouldn't worry about some old cryptic man-bat." The mischievous gleam in his eyes quickly becoming replace with a wild look in his eyes. "After all, I hear that they fear fire just everyone else." Lifting up his hand, he pulled out the lighter and some flash paper, but kept both out of sight as he did. As he open his hand he quickly spark the lighter. Causing the flash fire to quickly burn, and true to it's name, very brightly. Leaving only the solemn lighter in the palm of his extended hand. Offering it back to Vincent. "Of course, everything burns. Even the supernatural...." 

[DOMINICK CAVANAUGH]

Dominick didn't have to hide anymore. This was a fact that he consistently had to remind himself of given that only a few short years ago, he would have fallen somewhere between "debunked" myth and horror movie subject. Nonetheless, it was likely not the wisest thing of him to drift up through the middle of floor of the library, his form one of humanoid, ethereal black miasma with a sharp radiance of frozen cerulean shuddering from his lower back and his left arm for a moment before he pulled himself forth into tangible existence. The place had a reputation for being deserted, at least up here in the actual library portion of the building, and it similarly had a reputation for being haunted.

He briefly wondered what that was all about...

His blue-black jacket, a cloak of carefully tended fabric adorned with buckles and belts that reached nearly to his ankles and had an entirely too large collar that stabbed up from his neck, fluttered behind him as he lowered slowly to the ground, the haze of inky darkness fading away as he manifested, boots eventually colliding with the floor causing a quiet thump as his body became fully weighted, standing right in the middle of the fiction section and glancing about a bit as he reoriented his awareness. The realm of Shadows was awfully disjointed in comparison, so getting used to the physical world took him a second, and it always left him a bit dizzy at first. He sauntered over to one of the myriad shelves with a somewhat lanky swagger as if nothing odd had just happened. Perfectly unaware of the two nearby, he gently browsed some of the titles scrawled along the spines of the books, running a long, dextrous finger over each in turn.

He was new enough here to have little to no idea what an individual in his situation was to do with himself, and frankly, he was a little bored. People here just didn't quite react to a haunting like they used to; too calloused and in touch with the supernatural now, he supposed. It just wasn't entirely fun anymore. And hell, half the time, the people that he found living or working in whatever building he decided to make his new haunt were supernatural themselves. That was never a pleasant circumstance to deal with, and pissed off vampires were a quick way to ruin any good time, even without a circulatory system for them to slurp on. They tended to just be a little bitchy about things.

Libraries held a certain soft spot within him now. They felt old, no matter how new the building or the tomes housed within really were. The knowledge, the tales, were timeless, and with the way things were for him these days, it appealed to his deeper recollections of time that he had never experienced. Distance could be manufactured in an instant just by opening a page and reading a chapter. Add to that the sheer amount of lore, knowledge, and learning that the walls held, and it was like the world was spread out before him and laid bare, if only he had the time to lose himself in it. He had plenty of time, he imagined, and he had lingered in the dark longer than he probably should have. Despite what he could do, it was never a good idea to prod the Eldritch for longer than necessary.

Still oblivious to the other two only a few aisles away, who without a doubt should have seen him float up through the floor and take on his physical form, he meandered toward the historical fiction section and started browsing there. Remembering over fifty years of time will change ones tastes slightly.

[.:|Vincent|:.]

As he breathed in deeply he held it in, watching the kid in front of him. As he blew the cloud of white smoke into the air, after removing the cigarette with his right hand, he wondered exactly what was up with him. There were very little actual people in the city, especially as young as him, that would joke about the Supernatural. It just didn't really make any sense to him. He chuckled a bit at Branton's comment, "Not afraid of it chap, just dont really care much for it is all." he said slouching back into his chair. "You seemed to have chosen the wrong place to meet some people" he said looking around and raising his eyebrow, "Anyone who has been here more then a week knows that this is easily the slowest moving spot in the city." he said calmly poking at Branton's story a bit, seeing if he let loose anything else. 

Smirking as the man in front of him acted so brazenly nonchalant about creatures that could potentially and very easily maul and drain him in a matter of minutes. "You must not have very much interaction with the other species if you talk so plainly about them." he mused as he watched his lighter picked up from the table and flicked open. Just then something caught his eye to the right, a dark figure that seemed to coalesce right out of the darkness and molded its body into its choosing. 

Its body twisted and contorted, blurring his human eyes, as if his body was telling him this is something he should not be seeing. Clothes began to mold out of nothing, and it was either this man had been dead for quite a while, or he had a very odd love for the 80's timeline based on his choice in garments. 

"Must be one of those Shade beings...." he thought to himself. He hadn't had the chance to ever encounter one, but he had read on them and many other species heavily. "Not all things burn naturally kid....you will do well to learn that." he said slowly reaching his hands to his pockets, grasping the few cold iron pellets that he had kept on him, not really sure what to expect. He ran through his mind trying to remember all that he could about the beings, Cold iron, definitely a issue with them. If a solid enough object is swung through them that is made of such metal, then the Shade is dissipated from its current form and shoved back into the Shadow Plane. Salt is also extremely aggravating to them, mudding all senses that they have. Its a shame he doesn't look good with a cane. Or else he would have a little more of a weapon in case things go south.

He stood up so he would have more of an ability to react to any sort of hostility and took another hit off of his cigarette before speaking once more. "And what do we owe this pleasure Shade" he said gruffly, his dislike for all things supernatural showing in his voice. The safest thing that one can do in such situations is automatically assume that it is hostile, and he was very much doing so.

[Branton Applegate]

A slim eyebrow arched up, becoming barely visible behind choppy brown bangs as Branton observed the way the man held his breath. The curious young fellow he was, Branton was greatly so by the man's reaction, but decided against poking at it for now. Although, it did being a small smirk to the brunette's lips as he briefly mused over what it could be. Maybe he was breath taken by Branton's natural charm? Was this stranger perhaps a long secret admire of the Great and Amazing Applefire?! The thought caused the young adult to snicker. He had never had a male admire, a few females, but never a male. "Can't say I blame you." He said. Blinking a few time once he realized he was snapped out of his train of thought. "Their suppose to be Gods tears, and I'd rather not walk in that bastard's sorrows." Even though he had just insulted The Lord, Branton said it nonchalantly.

"Huh?" A pause. "Oh, well um...You see..." At a lost for words. Branton hurriedly taught for a way to make his story seem more believable, but sadly came up short. "Crap baskets..." He muttered under his breath since he was so easily caught. Letting out out a deep sigh he ran a hand down his face. Trying to wipe the shame off his face before continuing where he left off. "Well truthfully I did want to grab a book, but I also wanted to mess with some dimwitted people." He said honestly. Leaning back in his seat as he crossed his arms against his chest, tapping his finger on his arm. "Although, it did lead me to you." He said with a playful smirk. One that stayed on his face until he noticed something catching Vincent's eye. Blinking a few time in confusion he turned around to see what he was looking at. And what his emerald orbs gaze upon was something annoyingly familiar.

Cursing under his breath, the young man continued to watch with Vincent until the shadows finally gave away into a human shape. One that was also annoying and stupidly familiar. "Or do they?" He said ominously. As if he knew something Vincent didn't, and wasn't incline to share such information with him. The confused expression contorting into a much more mischievous one he rose to his feet. Picking up the Harry Potter book as he did before he staggered over to the bookshelf. Placing the story on top before looking through them once again for what he was looking for. "Don't worry about that one there stranger." Addressing Vincent once his word had reached his ears. "He might be a bloody pain in the ass, but he's harmless. I think." He said a bit absent-mindlessly as he kept on searching. His index finger tapping each hard cover as if crossing them off a mental list. 

[DOMINICK CAVANAUGH]

   Pride and Prejudice. . . Girl with a Pearl Earring. . . A Tale of Two Cities. . . Dragonfly in Amber. . . So many books on so many shelves, so many pages telling so many stories in so many worlds. This was why he loved libraries, and the historical fiction section was typically his preference above most others. To see the world written differently, a false tale in a true world painted by reality, was beautiful to him, a fine line between the real and the created that made him believe that maybe the mundane could be so much more. Somewhere in this too-real world was fairytale love, epic stories of deep and driving emotion that swayed an entire web of lives. It made the unreal seem completely plausible when it was decked in the trappings of the known past.

    Nick ran his hand along the spines as he read them. He was almost transfixed by the enormity of it all, captivated, utterly taken aback and washed over by the possibilities boiling within each volume. Granted, he knew he wouldn't enjoy all of them ("It was the best of times, it was the worst of times... and this was the latter...."), but the ambient feeling of every unheard tale and the sheer potential of them all was truly what enthralled him, binding him to a slow, lazy gait that carried him through the aisle, oblivious to the two at the table still. He came here for the quiet, knowing that this was often among the more deserted spots in the city. He needed to think things over for a little while: barely escaping an Eldritch was never easy on the sensibilities, no matter how often he did it.

    It had been close as hell. He had spent enough time materialized to feel the exhaustion settling over him like a blanket wetted with molasses, finally deciding to forsake his body and return to the Shadow, albeit begrudgingly, given the poignant reminder of his death that doing so afforded him. It was always a little like a slap to the face whenever he returned to the dark. He had rested there for a couple of days, wandering the faded, quivering streets of the city as they appeared in the Shadow Realm, watching the coagulation of people in a few spots, muffled and dull from this perspective, and wondering so many things. He was caught up in people watching and his mournful recollection of decades past when the thing, a horrid nightmare of tentacles and teeth, crawled from what looked like a fold in space somewhere in the corner of an alley. It had rushed him at speeds that nothing without discernable legs should be able to achieve, and it took some quick work to hurl a plasmic bolt at the thing, fly through the buildings to the next street, dodge a hail of swats and bashes from the writhing limbs, and get away long enough to shroud himself. To say that he was tired would be a sickening understatement. He had never felt so drained in all his life. He didn't flesh could feel empty like this.

    He snapped out of his daze as the stranger addressed him. His eyes averted to the man's hand, still buried in his pocket, and given the hateful, malignant tone he had, he wasn't too fond of Nick's type. There was a threat in there. It was a bit hidden and defensive, but the promise that if he started anything he'd be in deep shit was plenty apparent.

    He wasn't, however, really in the mood.

    Their color diminished from his sheer weariness, his sapphire eyes met with Vincent's, dull and narrowed and clearly not amused. There was nothing threatening about him; he couldn't be threatening right now if he tried, and frankly, his weakness permeated around him. His posture, his demeanor, everything about him screamed worn out and depleted. His hand rested on the edge of one of the books, a quick and curious glance telling him it was Wolf Hall (though he had no clue what that meant), and he offered the man a tired tilt of his head, bright blonde hair flipping a little with the motion.

"Whatever you're thinking I did, I didn't do." He held both hands up as a clear, no nonsense look of innocent surrender crossed his features. Hell, his jacket was even a little disheveled and unkempt, and for anyone who knew him, that would be a dead giveaway just what state he was in. Unfortunately, he had no such familiarity with this man.

That was about when his sight slid over to the other, younger man at the table, and the most prominent expression of "oh gods no not this obnixious bastard" cut his eyes and raised his brow, flattening his entire countenance and leaving him looking even more crestfallen.

He was still gorgeous though. At least there was that.

[.:|Vincent|:.]

He eyed the two that stood in the room, not quite sure what to make of the whole situation. He had yet to have very much interaction with those of the Shade race and while he was more or less pleased about it, he couldn't help but feel that he did indeed with that there was more that he would have like to know about them. Not for personal interest, but simply for an advanced look into the unknown that would help him complete his duties with more diligence. 

He noted the words that Branton spoke, but didn't necessarily listen to be exact. "Oh joy" he responded to Branton's comment on the fact that they were able to meet on this particular day. It was obvious that the kid had ran into this being before, but he wasn't 100% sure how much exposure he had. Was his nonchalant attitude mean that he was accustomed to the ghastly beings? Or did it simply mean that his mind was warped to the point that not even the lowest levels of Hell would worry him.

Shaking his head free of any sort of implications he put his attention back on the Shade, not really wanting to try and do a criminal profile in his mind on a potential psychopath and a dead man. Deciding to respond he answered, "No one is free of sin," he said replacing the cigarette in his mouth and pulling his hands out of his pockets, showing his attempt at deescalating the situation. "If you are no threat to myself or anyone at the present time, pray tell, what is your name and what business do you have in the world of the living?"


As he spoke there was a small sound in the back of the room, not alarming enough to bring much attention if any at all, but there nonetheless.