*Riddick is wondering through the streets of queens reign hoping that something fun will happen he had been bored for weeks now and he was starting to feel the itch to do something about it which was not good as that would normally mean he had to go kill something.*

((here's to hoping that this place is at least semi alive i've been out of it for a while but am back again now. ))


"Mein Gepäck..entschuldigen" exclaimed the fiery-haired woman. Her frantic eyes hopelessly searched the crowded streets for her misplaced luggage. She clutched her remaining parcel closely and felt the small coin purse strapped within the smothering layers of her garments. The cold, flat surfaces of the schillings eased her with an uncertain sense of security. It didn't matter if they had any worth here, at least Charlotta had something.


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not happy

(no subject)

Susumu sat in the meeting room with the ambassador’s assistants; his elbows on the table and fingers laced underneath his chin. He knew the ambassador was not irresponsible, and his absence from the meeting had roused the ninja’s suspicions. But Souji had left the room with such a determined look that Susumu fully expected him to return with the ambassador in tow. He wasn’t the type to take excuses, even from someone of status.

...Though maybe waiting patiently was not best. The office door flew open and a young woman entered, frantic and out of breath. It looked as if she’d been crying during her sprint to the room, and the words bubbling from her mouth weren’t coherent.
"What's happened?" Susumu asked, shooting up from his chair.
She couldn't compose herself well enough to explain, so instead she urged him to follow her with shaky hand gestures. They rushed back through the door and down the hall, soon making the turn toward the politicians wing. It wasn’t hard to guess the destination.

Thanking the young woman he broke away and ran the remainder of the distance to the ambassador’s quarters. From the demeanor of maids and others nearby, he could tell the former Shinsengumi captain had already forced his way through; and from their attention on a particular closed door he knew where the cause of this commotion must be. He turned the handle and entered slowly.


Souji felt uncomfortable in his suit as it was, but there was something about the day that caused him unease. He’d thought doubly so when one of the neighborhood cats who frequented the garden hissed at shadows, rather than Souji himself as he went out for his morning exercises.

When he’d woken that morning, chest heavy with the night`s accumulation of disease, he’d felt like there was something wrong. Nothing so noticeable as a change in air, but more like a change in how the light might reflect off the windows. Something impossibly small and so inconsequential it didn’t have a name, because no one could identify just what was strange. Being logical and plain thinking, he knew there was no reason for him to feel uneasy about the day, and he’d forced himself out of his futon, drifting as though still asleep, or perhaps already dead as he put on water for tea.

He would let Crow sleep today, but planned tomorrow to start the boy`s
fencing lessons. While the water was heating, he changed into an old,
well worn and patched kimono and took his sword out into the garden to
remind the disease in his body that it hadn’t beat him yet. That had been when he’d noticed the cat, hissing at shadows.

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  • Current Mood

Intelligence Gathering: A Fateful Encounter

Ah, Cafe Leblanc. That brilliantly changing landscape upon which the intellectually cowardly could dance in an obscene parody of genuine politics. Such cynicism cavorted with equal ferver in the mind of Mr. Dorian Gray as he ran his hand along the obsessively intricate oak comprising the far table at which he was seated.

His own decor was was decidedly drab; a navy blue trenchcoat and disheveled hair that appeared to have had nervous fingers run through it again and again. A passerby was meant to deduce that said digits were his own.

ore ga dare daka shitteruka?

It was depressing, walking next to the police officer. The man was unhappy. Now that he'd finished fooling around and venting his frustration (bottled up from the ship's captain, probably), the boy named Crow could feel it radiating off 'Rupert' in waves. Not quite sadness, maybe, but certainly an underlying unhappiness, the sensation of being a misfit, the instinctive lack of trust for the rest of humanity. It was painful, the way Kafka had been painful, only amplified. At least Kafka had been willing to talk. Silence was depressing.

...frankly, however, being awake this early in the morning was depressing.

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one flew over...

Back home (if home really existed somewhere other than the fuzzy recesses of his mind), people would have called it karmic. Spend all your time helping murderers and rapists find inner peace, and it'll come back to get you.

The boy named Crow, however, figured it was rotten luck that landed on the wrong boat late at night, wings near lame from the day's efforts, and somehow found himself chugging toward Europe rather than Taiwan. After all, luck had to run out sometimes. A masterful success like Kafka was sure to have been a drain on whatever good fortune he had naturally... or would have in the future. It wasn't every day you could mind-play someone into becoming the toughest damn 15-year-old in the world.

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(no subject)

The afternoon out had been tiring for Souji, although he was smiling when they returned home. He couldn’t believe how comforting it was, to have someone he could speak to—in Japanese no less--who knew everything. While there was certainly denial regarding his health,

There were things that only Susumu knew about him, and it was strangely comforting that the ninja, as surly as he was, was nearby. Someone who didn’t have to be asked to slow their pace when keeping up with the long-legged strides started to get harder, and still breathe normally…

“ne, susumu.” He said setting a tray down on the table and lifting off the pot of tea and cups.

“Thankyou. I will be relying on you a lot… I appreciate it.” He said smiling, hoping it didn’t sound serious or foreboding.


-There is a letter sitting on Lusk's desk not unlike the other one, It reads-

Regarding the murder on Thursday night, not much to report.
One Shot fired in the late evening on the corner of West
and Cherry between numbers 627 and 629. Investigation into
which of the houses it came from is still on going.


-Riddick is at present doing is normal round for the evening paying a fair amount more attention to all that is going on the before mentioned corner as he is still sort of trying to work out what happened.-


((time wise this is taking place sometime on the everning of Thursday but I wasn't able to actually do it.))

-On hearing the shot Riddick quickly flattens himself against the wall and peers through the rain to see if he can see anything. When he can't he walks quickly to the first door number 627 and knocks fairly loudly.-