[008]

[bloodsugar]

A): phone - mid-morning.

[OPEN;]

[one hazard of spending a good deal of your time lurking on the phone lines is that one might become prone to forgetting that people can HEAR you while you listen. so, it's entirely innocent, of course, when the half-absent and somewhat petulant mumble comes across the phone lines sometime this morning.]

...all this talk of Valentines Day... honestly! As if they're rubbing it in some of us are destined to be forever alone. 'Vow of celibacy'? More like vow of perpetual and ongoing boredom.

[...a pause.]

It's not like I wanted to find out what a romantic holiday with another human being is like, regardless... eh? I'm sure edible underwear isn't all it's cracked up to be, anywa--

[...]

Eh? [wait for it.]

AH--

[...there's a rather flustered squawk, and a hasty CLICK of the phone into the cradle.]

[filter to Charles Fei-Ong]

Alright, so maybe I'm a little late in checking in. You'll forgive me, right? After all, I'm sure you've been busy collecting recipes and taste testing! [no really are you okay... :| last time he saw you, after all, was... uh, colorful, to say the least.]

...I don't suppose you'd be up for a cup of tea, Charles? [he has a feeling you'll just bs him even if you weren't alright over the phone, anyway. CLEARLY HE MUST BE NOSY IN PERSON.]

[filter to Esther Blanchett]

Esther-- do you have a minute? There's... ah, something I wanted to ask you. [AND IT DOESN'T HAVE ANYTHING TO DO WITH EDIBLE UNDERWEAR HE SWEARS DEAR GOD.]

[filter to Django]

How are you holding up, partner? I hope the radio silence is because you've been gloriously enjoying the sunshine, hm? Making up for lost time and all that...! [are you okay partner? :(]

B): action; 1648 Albright Lane - lunchtime.

[there's the smell of something burning, late in the morning approaching lunchtime -- and if Rachel or Cain follows their nose, they might find the source in the form of one (1) Abel Nightroad with his drone wife's FRILLY PINK APRON several sizes too small draped around his neck and haphazardly tied back in the process of butchering... grilled cheese. yes, he is a total failure.

...somehow, he's gotten butter all over the counter and is trying to catch an overturned bottle of orange juice that is apparently spilling its contents over and onto the floor. the pan is burning and he's jostling cups and plates, trying not to drop EVERYTHING EVER as he fumbles to cease the spill of juice fruitlessly.

NO ONE SAID YOUR DAD WAS GOOD AT BEING DOMESTIC. this is why.]

C): action; around town - afternoon.

[the tall, lanky, and often times clumsy priest is among your streets today, Mayfield! anyone similarly prone to hitting up the bakery quite often might recognize his face, or simply wish to gape at the way he's leaving cheerily with a bag under his arm and so engrossed in the effort of inhaling the vanilla frosted doughnut in his hand he is clearly not paying attention to anything else. ...like the sidewalk. which, he may or may not inevitably trip over at an uneven crack and WOEFULLY lose his doubtlessly precious bounty as the bag tumbles to spill the fruits of his labor everywhere...

...and maybe his doughnut might happen to ah. misplace... itself from his hand and end up on your face. WHAT DO?]

D): action; church - evening.

[Abel's day eventually brings him to someplace to seek solace, to rest a weary soul... or something of that effect. one who enters might be hard pressed to FIND said priest who should be more or less easy to spot on the regular, right? how many 6'4 lanky bastards in cassock ARE there in here?

...but if one is apt enough, they might notice that the Father's side of the confessional is occupied. do you care to confess? ...or notice that said Father might just be lightly snoring if you listen hard enough...]

Comments

[bloodsugar]

[AAAH...]

--I wish my ammunition worked like that...! So it's basically limitless, isn't it?

[sunnydwithagun]

(With the gun's battery charged, Django sheathes his gun.)

Limitless as long as there's sunlight. Often times, the undead will have their lairs underground or indoors, but I'm accustomed to using skylights or windows in those cases.

Moon light doesn't charge it either, but eating solar nuts can help recover energy in those times.

[bloodsugar]

Eating... solar nuts? [what is this sorcery you speak of.]

[sunnydwithagun]

They're invaluable during the night time. If a solar child eats one, the nut recovers part of their energy for magic or their solar guns, much like how apples recover part of their strength.

(Like mana, but it's not called mana because it doesn't want to be called mana.)

[bloodsugar]

A 'solar child...'

Are you born able to use the sun like this, Django? Or... are you initiated, something like that?

[sunnydwithagun]

Every solar child is born with the ability to utilize the sun's light. Most have to go through training to properly use it, such as those who become vampire hunters. They have to train in not only survival skills and combat, but be able to use that which is their greatest strength and the immortals' greatest weakness.

[bloodsugar]

Are they common, then? Or... are there only a few?

[sunnydwithagun]

They were rather common...

...Right now, there's only me and my brother, Sabata.

[bloodsugar]

['were?']

Did something happen?

[sunnydwithagun]

...The Count of Groundsoaking Blood. He and several other immortals wiped out everyone, even his greatest rival: Red Ringo...my father.

Sabata was kidnapped by the Queen of Immortals, Hel, at a young age; my father set out to rescue him, but was eventually defeated and turned into a vampire by The Count. He left me his solar and his scarf before he left; I was to take his place as a vampire hunter if he never returned home.

(Django's player is going by what he remembers of the story and may be off on a few details, but it's the gist of it.)

[bloodsugar]

['Count of Groundsoaking Blood'... well, if that isn't an intimidating title, he has no idea what is. this person killed his father and the others... ;(]

...I'm sorry, Django. I didn't mean to, ah... [bring up such a delicate subject ;;]

[sunnydwithagun]

It's fine, really. The Count has been truly defeated and I can talk about it without tensing up. It's terrible and tragic that they all died, but that's why I don't just life my life for myself; I live it for others. For my friends, for my mentor, for my family...for everyone.

(Django is saying this with a warm smile. It says a hell of a lot if he can wear one of those after everything he's been through.)

[bloodsugar]

[...for all the times he's been 'sentimental' in Django's company, this... is something far more sincere as he looks at him.

that smile isn't fake, is it? it's real. despite losing so much and having his own kin turned against him like that... that smile is real, and as bright as the sun he worships so much...]

...

[sunnydwithagun]

(And just as poetic. Nice work.)

...but we've no time to linger in the past; the engine doesn't dwell on the fuel that keeps it running strong. We have a mission to complete and lives to save!

(And there goes his determination again; this guy's practically a superhero.)

[bloodsugar]

[slkdjf Django. Abel takes a moment to properly suffocate sincere admiration (really, your type always hits ALL THE HEARTSTRINGS), before giving a little nod with a smile.]

--Right. Right! A job to do...!

[;;;; you're so precious what even... WHEN HE GROWS UP HE WANTS TO BE JUST LIKE YOU what]

[sunnydwithagun]

(Django seems to do that a lot, but he's not exactly sure how he does it.The mark of a true hero is humility)

Then let us continue forward, partner!

(And after giving Abel his autograph refreshing his zeal, Django opens the doors to the library. The literary adventure begins!)

[bloodsugar]

[lksjdf such a gentleman, too. Abel walks in at the invitation, looking around the interior curiously. HM.]

Alright, alright... where do you think books on holidays will be?

[sunnydwithagun]

It's hard to say; if the library's as fickle as I've heard, it could be anywhere. Perhaps there's a history or tradition section we can look for?

[bloodsugar]

Hm, that's a good idea... Maybe find an official calender archived somewhere?

[sunnydwithagun]

Maybe. The librarian might not be much help, but perhaps the files on the main desk have some hints in them?

[bloodsugar]

Do you think we can take a peek? I bet there might be something useful...

[sunnydwithagun]

I've dabbled in stealth before, so I don't see why we can't...

(Thanks to his experiences as the main character of games by Hideo Kojima, Django sneaks on over to the desk while the drone librarian is busy talking to herself about keeping the books in organized disorganization or whatever she spoke about. In the meantime, he swipes a binder or two and presents them to Abel.)

[bloodsugar]

[see, this is why Hideo Kojima is our ninja god.

Abel tries to cover his amusement behind a hand, but it isn't going so well as he takes a binder and flips it open, his back to the desk.]

You're pretty crafty, aren't you?

[sunnydwithagun]

(That is the undeniable truth of the world.)

Years of experience.

Find anything in there, yet?

[bloodsugar]

No, no calender yet... Come to think of it, they never do mention the year even on the news, do they?