Shift in the Guard
5/1/2006
06:26 PM
Logfile from GarouMUSH.
Currently the moon is in the waxing Crescent Moon phase (26% full).
It is currently 18:15 Pacific Time on Mon May 1 2006.
Currently in Saint Claire, it is mostly sunny today. The temperature is 58 degrees Fahrenheit (14 degrees Celsius). The wind is currently coming in from the west at 13 mph. The barometric pressure reading is 30.31 and steady, and the relative humidity is 33 percent. The dewpoint is 29 degrees Fahrenheit (-1 degrees Celsius.)
Odeon - Lobby(#4049RJ)
The Odeon's lobby is testament to a faded and perverted glory. The deep crimson carpet is thick in places but in others stubbly as velveteen, and the rich pattern of tangling flowers is everywhere marred by dark stains. The walls are clothed in kingly purple tatters of wallpaper, and covered with faded posters featuring women and men in various states of undress, posing with various degrees of tastelessness, and screaming out titles like "Male Service", "Bang Bang: a Sexual Explosion", and "A Slip of Her Tongue" in garish lettering. There's no light in the room but what comes in from the street, and during the day the actresses look grey and ghoulish, and the bright reds and purples of the room faded and dusky; and at night, the place might as well be covered in thick black paint.
Immediately in front of the entrance is dull matte turnstyle which no longer turns, where once tickets were taken. To the right are a pair of doors which some joker has labelled "Pimps" and "Hos" with red spraypaint: these are the washrooms. To the left are a pair of doorways which lack actual doors, and opposite is a grand set of boarded doors which lead into the theatre proper.
Please check +view for further description.
Contents:
Christine
Giles
Obvious exits:
Upstairs THeatre Street
Christine comes rolling along the sidewalk outside, her brakeless roller blades jolting noisily over the alligatored cement. She uses the doorway to absorb her momentum, and angle her wheels so that it carries her just into the dim theater. "It's Chris," she calls, to no one in particular, pulling down her hood.
Giles sits in an inward, hunched position in a far corner of the office, his knees pulled to his chest and his back pressed against the wall. He's filthy still, with dried blood flaking from his hands and around his mouth and chin. Head slightly lowered, he mutters under his breath in a steady monologue, his voice too quiet to make out exactly what he's saying, while he picks fretfully at the scabs on his palms; the pentagram wounds are only a day old, if that.
Yi sits at the doorway, just outside of it, looking still a tad cross. She's on guard duty, waiting for the next shift to arrive if there is one. Every so often she keeps glancing inside, furrowing her brow, and then sighing and going back to doing nothing.
Giles continues to mutter from his huddled position in the office, picking at the scabs on his palms and murmuring softly. He rocks his body back and forth, head down.
Christine digs her hand into one of her capacious pockets and seems pleasantly surprised to excavate a stale Cheeto. "Who ya got stashed back there?" she asks, gesturing with the Cheeto hand before popping it into her mouth. She sucks the orange crumbs daintily from her fingertips.
Yi looks up to her tribemate, and then into the office again. "His name is Scruffy, and he is a galliard of our Family," she replies, glancing back. "For a galliard though, he is not too smooth a talker. And a little strange. You can speak to him if you wish though. However, he is not to leave this building, and not to go into the theater where Squeaks is yet." Standing, she brushes herself off. "Speaking of Squeaks, I should check on her. Would you mind...?" The fostern indicates the galliard, along with a silent query to take over.
"Mind what?" asks Christine, mouth pursing suspiciously. "Uh. Yeah, don't take too long. I was just on Squeaks sitting duty." She checks her pocket and comes up with a forlornly empty hand. Burying both hands then in her sweatshirt, she sidles up to the office and plants herself in the doorway. "Hey," she says.
Giles doesn't react, only grimaces as his dirty fingernails rip one of the scabs free, making the wound seep blood. "Mark, the mark, the mark," he mutters, repeatedly, worrying the other scabs free, teeth bared. Soon enough, both pentagram marks are bleeding again.
"I will only be gone for to get food for the both of them," Yi promises, looking back in at Giles and then to Christine. "Treat him like Family." That's all she tells the theurge before heading to the theater, opening up the door and slipping in.
Christine gives Giles a sighing look, even if she doesn't sigh aloud. "Chris, Theurge, Cliath, Say Your Prayers. What's your story?" She leans slackly against the doorframe, blocking most of the already dim light coming into the office.
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