The Underbelly [open]

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[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width,500,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=style, background: url(http://i134.photobucket.com/albums/q81/eaglestar222/ss035_zps5ec1910d.gif), bTable] you never feared the beast - - - - - - - - - - because it was always hidden - - - - - - - - - so, here's what happened: [style= font: 10px arial; text-align: justified; padding: 4px; filter:alpha(opacity=70); opacity:.7;] The basement was hazy with cigarette smoke, the air thick with the scent of perspiration, blood, and beer. A constant ramble of voices filled the space between matches as the janitor mopped the moisture from the square between the ropes that marked off the arena. Had it been any other context, there would likely have been a lot of blood shed, due to the mixture of species present, but Violet wasn't there to fight anyone but the opponents she'd signed on for. Besides, the enormous werebears keeping the peace were enough deterrent to prevent anything untoward from the vampires or the werewolves, or even the scattered humans who didn't understand enough about the underground to know that they were sheep in a den of wolves. Violet took a long drag of the cigarette between her fingers as she leaned back against the wall, the tape around her wrists making the motion somewhat more awkward than it would otherwise have been. Still, the thick menthol scent helped her to focus among the otherwise stimulating smells that littered the air. Getting into the mindset for a good fight was hard enough without adding the complication of several dozen creatures' body odor and blood. Besides, staying calm in the presence of injured prey was not the simplest task, even for a werewolf so experienced as her. It would not do to get over-excited before it was her turn to earn her rent. As the next two competitors stepped in the ring, Violet closed her eyes to focus on shutting out the noise from the bookies and the noisy crowd as they prepared for the next bout. Strictly speaking, she wasn't the most intimidating creature, based solely on appearance. Her long hair was pulled back in a thin braid which fell down the center of her back, and the semi-darkness hid the full tone of her thick biceps and shoulders. Her intense eyes were obscured by shadow, and for all the world, she just looked like a slightly-tall human woman. But most of these people knew better than that, and she knew that their bets would reflect that. The vampires and weres could smell the wolf blood in her veins, and could see the beast in her eyes. They were well-versed enough in the ways of werewolves to recognize an immortal werewolf when they saw one. The ring of the bell was obnoxiously loud to her ears as the fight began, and she brought the cig back to her lips. Two humans? An abnormally boring fight for this kind of club, but at least that meant that it was likely to be over quickly. Humans lacked the supernatural stamina of their peers. She closed her eyes again as she waited for the fight to reach its conclusion, a breathing a small sigh of boredom.

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words;; 478
song;; Handel - Sarabande

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if i leave my heart with you tonight

promise me that you're gonna treat it right.

Sorche was barely paying attention to the fighting. She was more interested in the client she was arguing with. He was a werebear with a hot temper. So Sorche had a hand in her pocket gripping her gun. Still what did it matter? Silver bullets hurt but they didn’t kill. That much was certain.

“That’s not how I work, Luc,” she said. “You tell me what you are looking for. If I got it on me, I consider if your price is worthy or not. If I don’t have it, I charge extra. The amulet you want is very old, very powerful and very protected. I don’t have it and I want one mil for it. You don’t have it, then find someone else to do the dirty work.”

With that she turned to walk away only for Luc to grab her and slam her into the wall. Her head hit the wall hard and her eyesight dimmed for a second. She managed to get her gun out and shoot him in the foot, before she sunk to the floor, dizzy. She had to have a mild concussion. That much she was certain. It wouldn’t be her first one, but damn her head hurt. She just sat there on the filthy floor trying to gather her wits back.

Of course, being a human working the supernatural world was very dangerous. Sor was good at what she did, however, so why shouldn’t she work how she did. Werebears were just some of the more lethal things that went bump in the night. It was why she had loaded her gun with silver bullets and why she didn’t hesitate to shoot the bastard.

LISTEN UP! THIS POST IS FOR VIOLET. IT HAS 281 WORDS. SHE IS CURRENTLY WEARING THIS. BY THE WAY, SORRY IT’S SO SHORT. OH, AND THIS TEMPLATE WAS MADE BY DUCK DUCK'S NOT A GOOSE

AT CAUTION 2.0. DON'T STEAL. IT'S DOUCHEY.

[Deleted]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width,500,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=style, background: url(http://i134.photobucket.com/albums/q81/eaglestar222/ss035_zps5ec1910d.gif), bTable] you never feared the beast - - - - - - - - - - because it was always hidden - - - - - - - - - so, here's what happened: [style= font: 10px arial; text-align: justified; padding: 4px; filter:alpha(opacity=70); opacity:.7;] Violet's gaze shifted as she heard a loud thud, which she surmised was the sound of the human woman who had just hit the far wall. It was odd, considering that unorganized interspecies fighting was forbidden at these sorts of events. It was just the sort of thing that could get a person into trouble of the lethal kind, if they weren't careful. Still, she watched as the tall werebear struggled to keep from transforming, his body shivering and his scent changing. Everyone in the basement froze as they heard a gunshot, and smelled silver residue enter the air. Ohhh dear. She really needed not to get involved in this, but the human woman was at such a disadvantage that a fair fight between her and anyone else in the room seemed unfeasible. That didn't sit particularly well with Violet. As some of the closer Werefolk stood to head over and deal with the silver-slinging human, Violet made her way over to the Werebear, who had dug the slug from his foot with his bear claws, and was snarling at the acidic pain of the substance. She herself skirted around the bullet, her nose warning her of the danger and setting the hair on the back of her neck on end. Kneeling beside the human woman, she glared a warning at the other Weres, who growled but returned to her seats. It was lucky for this human woman that Violet had the reputation that she did. The underground community didn't take very kindly to humans who kept silver bullets in their guns. "You are either suicidal or intensely unlucky," Violet said softly, her voice just carrying over the resumed sounds of the fight. "Shooting a silver bullet in a bar like this? Very bad idea." Lifting the woman's chin with motherly gentleness, she looked into her eyes. Focusing seemed difficult. With the impact she took to the wall, it wasn't particularly surprising. How a human this reckless was still alive was beyond her, but she still had some time before her fight, and no one else was rushing over to help. Some of the other Werebears were already tending to their wounded friend. "You need to be seen at the hospital," Violet told her. "Can you tell me your name and date of birth?"

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words;; 391
song;; Handel - Sarabande

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if i leave my heart with you tonight

promise me that you're gonna treat it right.

Sorche looked up as the woman came up to her and spoke. She scoffed and let her eyes close for a second. The words were probably true, but Sorche refused to see it that way. Considering her line of work, she considered herself to be intensely lucky. After all, she had gotten herself caught in some very dangerous situations and was still alive to laugh about it.

“Depends on the day and my mood,” she said, opening her eyes as she was grabbed by the chin. “I don’t think you should call me unlucky. I’m still alive so what unlucky about that?”

It was true. She was still kicking and screaming. She was too stubborn to die, but for the right price, she didn’t care if she did. She liked the way she lived. She enjoyed getting paid for her less socially acceptable skills. She loved breaking into places and stealing. Sure, she knew she was messed up in the head. Who the Hell cares about that? At least her life wasn’t boring. Her love life, however, was nonexistent. She really didn’t care about that, though.

"You need to be seen at the hospital. Can you tell me your name and date of birth?"

Sorche raised an eyebrow at that. The woman was crazy if she thought Sorche was dumb enough to give her any of that. Heck, she couldn’t show up at a hospital. She hated them with a passion. Besides, they’d probably turn her into the cops. She was technically a runaway and fugitive. That and hospitals just made her nervous in general.

“No hospitals,” she said, shaking her head and grimacing as her head rejected the movement. “I can’t.”

At the moment she didn’t even bother answering her about her name and birthday. Yeah right. She didn’t even know the woman.

LISTEN UP! THIS POST IS FOR VIOLET. IT HAS 304 WORDS. SHE IS CURRENTLY WEARING THIS. BY THE WAY, IT'S A LITTLE BETTER THIS TIME ^_^. OH, AND THIS TEMPLATE WAS MADE BY DUCK DUCK'S NOT A GOOSE AT CAUTION 2.0. DON'T STEAL. IT'S DOUCHEY.

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[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width,500,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=style, background: url(http://i134.photobucket.com/albums/q81/eaglestar222/ss035_zps5ec1910d.gif), bTable] you never feared the beast - - - - - - - - - - because it was always hidden - - - - - - - - - so, here's what happened: [style= font: 10px arial; text-align: justified; padding: 4px; filter:alpha(opacity=70); opacity:.7;] Violet sighed softly as the girl spoke. There was no denying that she reminded Violet of herself at a younger and more foolish age. In those days, she would rather had bled to death than be caught by the cops, though she realized now that those priorities were somewhat skewed. But she couldn't really pander to that kind of attitude, since it had led her into such trouble in the first place. Violet knew where that road would lead, especially for a human in a world of supernaturals. If the girl didn't get past it at some point, it would likely lead her six feet under one day... "Okay, fine," Violet said, standing and turning to walk away. "Good luck walking home with a concussion." The werewolf was banking on the girl realizing that she had no chance of success without help, and would be able to grow up just that little bit and seek help. If not, she would just have to keep an eye on her from afar until she was not longer Violet's problem. Besides, her fight was coming up pretty quickly, so she didn't have a lot of time left to waste on this kind of non-sense. "Of course, this being under the radar," Violet continued, pausing, "the odds are somewhat low that you'll be able to defend yourself or get to help, if someone wanted revenge." She glanced to the table where the werebears were sitting, grousing with each other about the downed human.

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words;; 265

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if i leave my heart with you tonight

promise me that you're gonna treat it right.

Sorche just wanted the girl to shut up. She knew she was stupid, and she was probably a little suicidal. She just didn’t give a damn. Well, the majority of the time she didn’t. Still, she didn’t actually want to die. So as the woman began walking away, she groaned in defeat and gave up the stubbornness.

“Alright,” she said. “Fine. Name’s Sara. I’m eighteen.”

It was a lie of course, but she wasn’t going to risk a doctor or something getting her file brought up. Last thing she needed was for her shit to be flagged as a missing person or wanted criminal. She didn’t want to be arrested or something. As screwy as it might be, she would prefer death over imprisonment any day. It was just the way her brain worked.

LISTEN UP! THIS POST IS FOR VIOLET. IT HAS 134 WORDS. SHE IS CURRENTLY WEARING THIS. BY THE WAY, SORRY FOR THE SHORTNESS AND THE WAIT. OH, AND THIS TEMPLATE WAS MADE BY DUCK DUCK'S NOT A GOOSE AT CAUTION 2.0. DON'T STEAL. IT'S DOUCHEY.

[Deleted]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width,500,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=style, background: url(http://i134.photobucket.com/albums/q81/eaglestar222/ss035_zps5ec1910d.gif), bTable] you never feared the beast - - - - - - - - - - because it was always hidden - - - - - - - - - so, here's what happened: [style= font: 10px arial; text-align: justified; padding: 4px; filter:alpha(opacity=70); opacity:.7;] Turning back to look at the girl, she appraised her with a cold stare before nodding once. There was no doubt that this girl had a minor concussion, as her pupils were dilated, and she looked like she had one monster of a headache. Luckily, she seemed easily capable of inventing information, and was well in possession of her faculties. Violet wasn't young or naive enough to think that the name was her real name, but her name wasn't particularly important to the werewolf. It just meant that the concussion wasn't severe. However, it didn't mean that the girl didn't need some kind of medical attention. "Be still, and I'll be right back," she said, walking away. Moving through the crowd, she made her way over to the first aid consultant in the back room, pushing her way through the crowd of people. The backrooms were just as smoky as the main chamber, but they were at least a bit more quiet. They were built of cheap wood panels, like some basement out of the sixties, and she could smell that they tended to retain scents for a long time, though she ignored the unpleasant sensory input and continued in her search. She found the man in usual form, asleep on the sofa in the corner, a cigarette dangling from his limp fingers. He appeared to be in his mid sixties, and his scraggly hair lent to an unkempt style that would have been out of place in a medical community. His cheap gray suit was worn and patched, and his glasses sat on a thin nose. Kicking his boot, she startled him awake, and she waited as he sat up and stretched. "Doc, we've got an injured human," she told him, once he had managed to dispose of his cigarette. "I think she's got a concussion." "A fighter?" he enquired, his English accent obvious. "No, just a spectator who managed to piss off a werebear." He chuckled once at that before gathering a small medical bag and following her back out into the more open space. Ignoring the glares from the less forgiving of the werebears, she brought the doctor over to her. Kneeling in front of her, he gave her a hard stare, his bushy gray eyebrow's furrowing as he looked into her eyes. "Hello," he said slowly. "My name is Doctor Bradford. Can you tell me today's date?"

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words;; 425
style;; click

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