sunnydalealum | (no subject)

February 14th, 2007
Manhattan

Nobody on the street (not even the beat cop on the corner) seems to notice anything odd about the fact that very well-dressed people, singly or in pairs or larger groups, have been walking into the closed-for-repairs underground parking garage and not walking out. Nor do they notice anything odd about the people in question, even those whose faces don't appear remotely human.

As with one particular group, centered around a tall figure with a lionlike face.

Angel has drawn the line at wearing the House Varadeem livery, but each of them sports a badge of sorts with Vayan's sigil -- the same intricate pattern on the ring Angel's already wearing. It doesn't make them blend in with the Rrhayaowr, even the human-looking ones, but it makes certain matters clear to the others waiting in line. There's already delighted gossip making its way through the crowd, glances and whispers.

They've learned the club's name by this time, and it's making the oldest members of the team very uneasy. There's a muttered explanation while they wait, kept vague against the sharp ears of the rest of their party. Aequitas: the Latin word for justice. It's just a little too close for comfort to another place they knew once, with a name meaning mercy.

Probably just a coincidence.

The heavy doors at the far end of the lot are just opening, and two big burly demons taking up positions to either side. A ripple goes through the assembled beings, and the line starts to slide forward like (Andrew tries not to think it) like a snake.

Threaded | Flat

It's a ripple of expectation, of delight and nervous tension all at once. What will it be like inside? Will I get in? Will she? The air is alive with energy that no one cares to subdue. Everyone there has their cards, they're special enough to have them, and now there's only one thing left. One last obstacle to overcome before they can mingle with the latest and the greatest.

A murmur spreads like wildfire from the front of the line, where the two guards make the final adjustments; some sort of technical equipment. Metal detectors? Something more difficult to get by?

And then, one by one the expectant guests start walking up to it. The first three get to go inside and do so eagerly. The fourth one... The fourth one is louder, despite his vertically challenged frame.

"I SHOT THE SHERIFF, BUT I DID NOT SHOOT THE DEPUTY--" After a moment, he dances all the way to where the party's at.