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Jun 22, 2016 18:33:23 GMT
Post by tina on Jun 22, 2016 18:33:23 GMT
Tina sank a few hundred thousands of dollars into hiring the best PIs money could buy. As time passed, she knew the longer she saw the word missing, the more likely it was only a placeholder for the word deceased.
Just this morning, a private eye had called her to give their condolences and a cash return. They were giving up.
This evening, as the light faded into night, they called again. Change of plans, they were keeping her entire deposit. They also provided her the address of a dingy bar, one that her security glanced at and firmly escorted her away.
A man dressed in a black suit worth more than the entire bar walked in, not quite as if he owned the place but close, and he passed Jason a note written on elegant but nondescript stationary.
Creata. 1477 Castle Way, at 67th and Castle. Creata is one of the nicer bars in Innsmouth, quiet with secluded booths, an excellent wine selection, and an even better whiskey selection. It's usually a place for millionaire businessmen to drink themselves into oblivion.
Tina paid for an extra dry martini, which she hasn't touched. The glass sits in a small puddle of its own condensation.
She waits.
She's not sure if she dares to hope.
NOVA
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Jun 29, 2016 22:01:43 GMT
Post by NOVA on Jun 29, 2016 22:01:43 GMT
Jason: Enter.
Jason's right had began tap on the stool he sat on in a very specific manner, beginning to arm a spell to deal with this henchman before he got any closer to him. The man was too well dressed, too well mannered, and too well brought up in general to be in such a dump of a bar that Jason was drinking at. As the black suited man approached closer and closer, the spell the young witch had been preparing began to take form, itching to be released.
"What do you want?" Jason asked, hands hidden as he readied his magical offense. The man replied with a grunt and placed a small piece of parchment before the blond and left. Curiosity overcame his cautious gut feeling and Jason opened the envelope to see an address written inside in delicate cursive handwriting. The swirling pattern was that of one which Jason could never forget.
It didn't take the witch long to find his way to the diamond in the rough bar that was Creata. Hell, he'd even fancied the place before the whole massacre thing. Jason entered with his glasses on, hopes high, and stomach fluttering. It'd been over four years since he'd seen her. Would she even recognize him? Would she even want to recognize him? More importantly, was it actually her? Was this all some elaborate trap to claim the last of the Royde coven?
All the thoughts of "ifs" and "woulds" vanished, however, when Jason saw a familiar blonde sipping on what looked like a martini. "Tina?" Jason asked, as he approached her secluded seat.
> ==> | [attr="class","pester"][newclass=.pester a]font-size:8px;font-family:verdana;color:blue;font-weight:bold;text-decoration:underline;line-height:11px;[/newclass][newclass=.pester a:visited;]color:purple;[/newclass] | |
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