Roleplaying
2004 Archive
2005 Archive
Seminars
| When: | 17 February 2005 |
| Who: | Kacela, Nicodemus |
| What: | Rumors about the previous night’s events precipitates an unusual visit to the office of Kacela Howard. |
A note of interest passed along to known persons of interest in the Austin area:
Kind sirs and madams;
As you are well aware, there has been a rogue figure about the city that's taken a certain glee in yanking the souls out of humans. The fool doesn't seem to know a good thing when he sees it, and has been trying to get himself killed. Considering that a good number of us can think of much better uses for him than letting him slip into Heaven's hands, I thought it best to tell all of you to do your best to keep him alive. Last night, he was gunned down by an angry meat puppet, but I intervened to save his wretched hide. You can find him at the hospital. I do hope you find this information helpful.
->§<- Keiiah ->§<-
East - Austin
There are 'problem areas,' and then there are 'urban wastelands.' Much of the East Side of Austin fits into the latter category. It runs from the Capitol all the way to the eastern city limits, walled in by the University and the Colorado River in the south and an invisible line known only to the street-smart in the north. A reasonably comfortable buffer zone in the east-central and around the highways keeps the worst part of the city from mingling with the best and most important, and it is there that Austin has its most ambitious revitalization projects. The further east one goes, however, the faster the city seems to take an ungraceful dive into vice and decay. The exact opposite of the West Side, much of the East is a true barrio. The streets are unabashedly dirty, littered with both material trash and people, sitting or standing or walking aimlessly by the wayside.
Situated in one of the more revitalized areas of the inner city sits the DFACS office where Kacela Howard makes her living. Currently, she's sitting back in her seat, legs crossed primly, steaming cup of apple-mango tea on her desk. An alto voice purrs out from her, "I understand it is hard, life is hard. There's only so much that the police ARE going to be able to do. They're bound to not do anything until a crime actually *IS* committed... you may wish to consider taking measures to protect yourself."
It is into this harsh reality that Nicholas Lyman enters, the money implied by his deep navy suit slapping the faces of the hard-to-do's the moment he glides through the door. To the receptionist, or the social worker closest to the door, the Austin industrialist bows his head curtly, "Kacela Howard, please?" Today, Lyman has no time for pleasantries it seems.
Kacela narrows her eyes as she hears the name echo out, and leans forward in her seat to identify the source. Coolly, she coos out to the phone, "I have another case to tend to, though, I will be in touch." She slaps the phone down, and then stands, resting one shoulder against the doorsill. "You look lost," she states easily.
Hearing "That's me" in the words of the other caseworker, Lyman looks through the first. "Not so," he asserts, leaving Kacela's co-worker behind and approaching the desk, "I'm looking for a Kacela Howard." At this statement, the Austin businessman begins to observe what are, to him, cramped surroundings. Still, he is not put off, immediately meeting Kacela's gaze after evaluating the room, "It is a matter of some urgency."
The trickle of a small desktop fountain, complete with rock slabs and rounded river stones, finally makes itself known in the silence as Kacela slips the door shut. "I'm certain it is," she says archly, before turning back toward the slightly taller gentleman with a radiant smile. "From the Lux, right? Opening night chaos and all, right?" However, she drops the banter, and says, "The normal everyday business of a man in your position doesn't bring you on personal calls to middle-management. What do you need?"
But Lyman does not immediately launch into his business. In fact, he falls abruptly silent, a measuring stare drifting back to the other social worker. The hint is rather obvious and it results in a shuffling of papers, followed by a short sigh. When footsteps are heard departing from the desk, Lyman drops his voice to just above a whisper, "Word has it that you've had contact with a very...gifted individual. He's been admitted into the hospital? Which one?" At these questions, something seems to spark in Lyman's eyes...something not as natural or inviting as his baby blues.
Kacela smirks at the retreating coworker and the closing door, before meeting his gaze with the depths of her own. That glint is noted, interpreted as a challenge, and filed away for later. Coyly, she flicks her eyes shut as she breathes out, "Brackenridge. You aren't going to kill him, are you? You know that would just piss off whomever it is you're working for."
Oh, it wasn't a challenge, at least not completely, just a simple a tip of the hat to a fellow infernal. Still, Nicodemus, like his corporeal persona, has been known to condescend. The fire in his eyes quickly dissipating, Lyman's face sinks casually, a smile forming, "No, for the moment he may be a useful tool." Something dire corrupts what was becoming a pleasant tone, "But, when his situation is more clear to us, he may be more useful dead." This seriousness fades and Lyman shrugs, "Whatever method is best to divide heaven."
Kacela's eyes brighten. "Oh, I have my own ideas on how to go about doing that, which involves getting a few archangels at each other's throats. But you'll understand if I'm not so forthcoming on the matter, not knowing where you stand." She shrugs quietly, smiling. "Perhaps we can share a sliver of enlightenment, but I have some more souls to touch piling up outside the door." With that, she waves a hand magnanimously, as if she had performed him the favor of the year.
Previous: Logs or 2005 Archive