Encounterlogs
Amelias Odd Encounter Sr Isaiah 240828
In the whimsical room adorned with stuffed animals and vibrant decorations, Amelia, the protagonist with a peculiar affinity for the night, juggles the complexities of her day-to-day life. As a member of a faction and a healthcare worker with an odd schedule, her mornings are consumed with handling texts from various relatives and pressing business matters, while she prepares for her night shift at the clinic. Her narrative begins with an air of mild annoyance directed at an additional task being thrust upon her already hefty list of responsibilities. The task, delivered through a series of increasingly aggressive and vulgar texts, demands she extract information from Varias Caprini without breaking "The Understanding," a delicate task given the inherent constraints and Amelia's struggle to catch up with modern technologies since her unexplained disappearance and re-emergence 19 years later.
As Amelia sets out, her annoyance grows when she mistakenly adds J. Arkwright, presumably a figure of authority and source of pressure in her life, to the group text, escalating her challenges. Despite the morning sun's discomfort and her grogginess, she focuses on her mission to interrogate Caprini, a worker at GenTek, without alerting him or breaking the delicate balance governed by "The Understanding." Her drive to the north side of town is marked by a mix of determination and trepidation, hinting at her complex relationship with her responsibilities, the faction, and the shadowy figures that exert influence over her. Upon reaching GenTek, she witnesses Caprini's guise of confidence and casual demeanor, which contrasts sharply with her own frantic efforts to engage him under a facade of needing his assistance. This moment encapsulates not only the strangeness of her task but also the nuances of navigating a world filled with secret factions, modern technology, and the remnants of a life interrupted by a mysterious absence.
(Amelia's odd encounter(SRIsaiah):SRIsaiah)
[Fri Aug 23 2024]
In a room in transition
This room has a whimsical air, characterized by pristine white walls that serve as the perfect canvas for the enchanting decor. At its heart, the room features a collection of large stuffed animals, each contributing to the room's girly charm. Among these cuddly companions are giant rabbit characters, their floppy ears and round, expressive eyes creating an atmosphere of comfort and playfulness and and some fantastical creatures that look like they're from Japanese media.
The colour scheme of the room is a mix of soft pastels and bold, bright hues, creating a cheerful atmosphere. A canopy bed with sheer curtains provides a cozy and dreamy sleeping space, where one can rest and dream of their next adventures. Shelves are filled with books, trinkets, and souvenirs from various locations and realms visited. A small writing desk by the window is adorned with journals and sketchbooks, where the owner records their thoughts and drawings inspired by imagination and adventures alike.
It is dawn, about 73F(22C) degrees,
(Your target and their allies have been tasked with extracting a piece of information from a member of an opposing faction or subfaction but they cannot break the understanding to do so.
)
SRIsaiah just requires Amelia to emote a description of what she's doing and we can begin.
Amelia might look a fair bit like a feline craving caffeine while being statically challenged, but she has finished getting dressed and brushed her hair and put herself together as well as she can manage beneath the first rays of the dreaded day star peeking over from the eastern horizon. Off and on, she is texting with one Arkwright relative or another, along with some business from the President of the Hand that she needs to deal with, all while also preparing for a day (read night shift for her) spent at the clinic beginning well, whenever she gets there. Her nature and position with one of the Factions giving her a little leverage on flexible scheduling. Still, sick people need her some times, and it is usually best that she gets there to actually be useful in times of such need. Or for when no one else wants to work incinerator duty in the morgue and she can volunteer to be in the back and quiet instead of upfront dealing with people. Bodies are just that much easier to handle.
Amelia takes in a long, unnecessary breath and exhales it through barely parted lips in a wheezed huff of mild annoyance. "I have seventy-two things on my check list to get done today, and you want to add something to it? I swear, if I find these little IT weasels, one of these days, I will surgically remove their spleen," she grumble growls to herself, heading out the door before even bothering to read them. She makes her way down the stairs and into the alley where her car is parked. Blood red, because her patriarch bid it to be so. Who was she to argue? He made her. But at least he opted for the nearly opaque tint on the windows. Certainly not street legal, but rated to keep out all but the most direct UV light for obvious reasons. Once she is in the driver's seat with the door closed, she holds up her phone to finally check these supposedly important alerts. In the world she returned to after 19 years being disappeared, 14 of which she was officially declared dead for, the information age has hit her hard. So much information from such a small device. She was not prepared for it. When she disappeared, the Wireless Web was still a thing cell phone companies were still trying to get off the ground. Sure, she knew about the internet, but phones have become so much more.
Whoever is on the other end of that series of texts does not enjoy being ignored by Amelia as she opts to make her way downstairs first, rather than immediately reading the information. Read receipts are the Devil, they really are. When finally she does get down to business and open the conversation, it's to find that some higher up is a bipolar control freak on a power trip. They start out simple:
Disregard your current schedule. Find Varias Caprini. Interrogate. Then: Stop taking a shit and let me know you got this.
It all goes down hill from there. "Hello?? You lock yourself in your fucking coffin??"
You're old enough to know how phones work you fucking moron. Open your texts.
LET ME KNOW YOU GOT THIS, BITCH
I'm going to stake you through the heart you dumb fucking cunt.
And finally, a text that has too many typos to even be decipherable. It's a mess, and it only gets worse the longer it takes Amelia to read, let alone respond. She's called quite a few bitches, whores, and sluts at one point- all in the same text.
Amelia has definitely been learning about phones since she came back. And she also knows how to screen capture. But better than that, she knows how to make a group text and include history. She adds the Hand President to the chat when she replies with: Will do.
That's it. Just two words. Enough for acknowledgment and also a deliberate, textual slap in the face. A smile forms across her lips, briefly, before she shakes her head and pulls up whatever information they have on this guy. Even though she is in the safety of her car, the dreaded daystar's rays make her feel groggy. She does not need to do it, but she makes herself yawn out of habit. It helps pass the time while waiting for Varias's information to load.
One more text: A cluster of information on this Varias person. Male, five feet, nine inches tall, one-hundred-eighty pounds, Sicilian Italian, blue eyes, black hair, works at GenTek, and most importantly, is unaware. Don't break The Understanding.
Perhaps that last bit complicates things, or perhaps it doesn't. But what just /might/ put a damper on Amelia's day is what happens after a second set of bobbing chat bubbles stops typing, and then the message arrives:
DON'T GROUP CHAT ME, BITCH. - from the same guy; and this time Amelia's groggy eyes can read the contact information: J. Arkwright.
Everyone fucks up in the mornings, right? Perhaps she can convince him that it was an honest accident. Or maybe she's brave enough to tell him to go fuck himself. Who knows, for the day is young and the sun is shining warmly on everyone but our unfortunate heroine here.
Well, if that J stands for James, Amelia may as well save him the trouble and go find a stake and impale herself. But then he would just come and pull it out of her chest, berate her for not doing what he asked before staking herself, then stake her again for good measure.
She lets out a sigh and says, "Gee, include all the useful information except ... Oh. GenTek. I guess he could be at work." She rests her head against the head rest of her seat for a few moments. She had just gotten her meds right. Getting doses that work right on a vampire without ODing is tricky. Can't even give the drugs to someone for them to bite, because the drugs still work on the person. So she was starting to feel even. Starting to feel level. Starting to feel ... normal. And just like every Arkwright that has come before her, there He is to tear that curtain back and make sure she can still see the cold, harsh reality.
She shakes her head violently, in part to get rid of that train of thought, but also to try to rouse herself to a more wakeful state. Despite that, her hands tremble when she turns on the car and starts to drive to that part of town.
The drive to the north side of town is likely had in awkward silence by Amelia, but who knows- maybe she's one of those girls that chatters away at herself when she's upset. Maybe she's running scenarios through her head on what's going to happen, or how she'll try to get out of it, or if she really will just 'take the lumps', as it were. Speaking of lumps, when that blood-red whip pulls up alongside the GenTek building, her mark is in the midst of smoking the last few puffs of a cigarette, enjoying the sunlight, and then tossing it aside as he stalks back towards the door. The store will be opening in one minute, and he has to get his mood right for his best customer service voice, it seems, because he's seen practicing smiling, waving, and nodding at his own reflection before he even attempts to go inside. The guy can't be called not- handsome. He's got a lovely undercut coif of curly black hair that scatters over thick, dark brows that play the perfect partner to piercing blue eyes. A surprisingly square jawline has a faint amount of stubble on it, and though not as tall as the behemoth men that typically wander Haven, the quiet confidence he carries about himself makes him seem larger than he is. If he's not a gym attendee by nature, Botox has certainly served him well.
What doesn't serve him well is the way he humps the air after his practice session is over, a firm vulgar thrust as he cheers himself on before tearing the door open and strutting inside with his chin lifted and his arms akimbo. It's always something with dudes that keeps them from being perfect, but at the very least it may not stop him from being... Delicious if push comes to shove.
Amelia does a quick check on what the heck GenTek even does so she won't sound like a complete moron going in there. Once that is done, she slips out of the car and quickly moves to the door to make it seem like she is frantic. It helps that she wants to get the hell out of the morning sun. She may arrive before he opens the door, but that is part of the plan, trying to increase excitability to get his guard down. Maybe so he lets her in early, and she can get him alone for a couple of minutes before someone else arrives. She scans the lot on the way over to see if anyone else is there. She tries to open the door and makes some typical aye-aye-aye type motions if it does not immediately open, trying to look frazzled and frustrated.
For a moment it seems that the mark isn't going to open the door, pretending he doesn't hear Amelia's 'desperation' on the other side of the glass. However, a quick peek over towards the door from him sees him blinking in surprise, then grinning. He faux-rushes towards the door as though he had no idea the store should already be open, and then offers her a path with a sweep of his hands. "Buongiorno, bella... What can I do for a creature as beautiful as you today? Vitamins for your perfect skin, hair, and eyes? Picking up a prescription? Dropping one off..?" he inquires, that Sicilian accent really laid on thick as he watches her.
As Amelia sets out, her annoyance grows when she mistakenly adds J. Arkwright, presumably a figure of authority and source of pressure in her life, to the group text, escalating her challenges. Despite the morning sun's discomfort and her grogginess, she focuses on her mission to interrogate Caprini, a worker at GenTek, without alerting him or breaking the delicate balance governed by "The Understanding." Her drive to the north side of town is marked by a mix of determination and trepidation, hinting at her complex relationship with her responsibilities, the faction, and the shadowy figures that exert influence over her. Upon reaching GenTek, she witnesses Caprini's guise of confidence and casual demeanor, which contrasts sharply with her own frantic efforts to engage him under a facade of needing his assistance. This moment encapsulates not only the strangeness of her task but also the nuances of navigating a world filled with secret factions, modern technology, and the remnants of a life interrupted by a mysterious absence.
(Amelia's odd encounter(SRIsaiah):SRIsaiah)
[Fri Aug 23 2024]
In a room in transition
This room has a whimsical air, characterized by pristine white walls that serve as the perfect canvas for the enchanting decor. At its heart, the room features a collection of large stuffed animals, each contributing to the room's girly charm. Among these cuddly companions are giant rabbit characters, their floppy ears and round, expressive eyes creating an atmosphere of comfort and playfulness and and some fantastical creatures that look like they're from Japanese media.
The colour scheme of the room is a mix of soft pastels and bold, bright hues, creating a cheerful atmosphere. A canopy bed with sheer curtains provides a cozy and dreamy sleeping space, where one can rest and dream of their next adventures. Shelves are filled with books, trinkets, and souvenirs from various locations and realms visited. A small writing desk by the window is adorned with journals and sketchbooks, where the owner records their thoughts and drawings inspired by imagination and adventures alike.
It is dawn, about 73F(22C) degrees,
(Your target and their allies have been tasked with extracting a piece of information from a member of an opposing faction or subfaction but they cannot break the understanding to do so.
)
SRIsaiah just requires Amelia to emote a description of what she's doing and we can begin.
Amelia might look a fair bit like a feline craving caffeine while being statically challenged, but she has finished getting dressed and brushed her hair and put herself together as well as she can manage beneath the first rays of the dreaded day star peeking over from the eastern horizon. Off and on, she is texting with one Arkwright relative or another, along with some business from the President of the Hand that she needs to deal with, all while also preparing for a day (read night shift for her) spent at the clinic beginning well, whenever she gets there. Her nature and position with one of the Factions giving her a little leverage on flexible scheduling. Still, sick people need her some times, and it is usually best that she gets there to actually be useful in times of such need. Or for when no one else wants to work incinerator duty in the morgue and she can volunteer to be in the back and quiet instead of upfront dealing with people. Bodies are just that much easier to handle.
Amelia takes in a long, unnecessary breath and exhales it through barely parted lips in a wheezed huff of mild annoyance. "I have seventy-two things on my check list to get done today, and you want to add something to it? I swear, if I find these little IT weasels, one of these days, I will surgically remove their spleen," she grumble growls to herself, heading out the door before even bothering to read them. She makes her way down the stairs and into the alley where her car is parked. Blood red, because her patriarch bid it to be so. Who was she to argue? He made her. But at least he opted for the nearly opaque tint on the windows. Certainly not street legal, but rated to keep out all but the most direct UV light for obvious reasons. Once she is in the driver's seat with the door closed, she holds up her phone to finally check these supposedly important alerts. In the world she returned to after 19 years being disappeared, 14 of which she was officially declared dead for, the information age has hit her hard. So much information from such a small device. She was not prepared for it. When she disappeared, the Wireless Web was still a thing cell phone companies were still trying to get off the ground. Sure, she knew about the internet, but phones have become so much more.
Whoever is on the other end of that series of texts does not enjoy being ignored by Amelia as she opts to make her way downstairs first, rather than immediately reading the information. Read receipts are the Devil, they really are. When finally she does get down to business and open the conversation, it's to find that some higher up is a bipolar control freak on a power trip. They start out simple:
Disregard your current schedule. Find Varias Caprini. Interrogate. Then: Stop taking a shit and let me know you got this.
It all goes down hill from there. "Hello?? You lock yourself in your fucking coffin??"
You're old enough to know how phones work you fucking moron. Open your texts.
LET ME KNOW YOU GOT THIS, BITCH
I'm going to stake you through the heart you dumb fucking cunt.
And finally, a text that has too many typos to even be decipherable. It's a mess, and it only gets worse the longer it takes Amelia to read, let alone respond. She's called quite a few bitches, whores, and sluts at one point- all in the same text.
Amelia has definitely been learning about phones since she came back. And she also knows how to screen capture. But better than that, she knows how to make a group text and include history. She adds the Hand President to the chat when she replies with: Will do.
That's it. Just two words. Enough for acknowledgment and also a deliberate, textual slap in the face. A smile forms across her lips, briefly, before she shakes her head and pulls up whatever information they have on this guy. Even though she is in the safety of her car, the dreaded daystar's rays make her feel groggy. She does not need to do it, but she makes herself yawn out of habit. It helps pass the time while waiting for Varias's information to load.
One more text: A cluster of information on this Varias person. Male, five feet, nine inches tall, one-hundred-eighty pounds, Sicilian Italian, blue eyes, black hair, works at GenTek, and most importantly, is unaware. Don't break The Understanding.
Perhaps that last bit complicates things, or perhaps it doesn't. But what just /might/ put a damper on Amelia's day is what happens after a second set of bobbing chat bubbles stops typing, and then the message arrives:
DON'T GROUP CHAT ME, BITCH. - from the same guy; and this time Amelia's groggy eyes can read the contact information: J. Arkwright.
Everyone fucks up in the mornings, right? Perhaps she can convince him that it was an honest accident. Or maybe she's brave enough to tell him to go fuck himself. Who knows, for the day is young and the sun is shining warmly on everyone but our unfortunate heroine here.
Well, if that J stands for James, Amelia may as well save him the trouble and go find a stake and impale herself. But then he would just come and pull it out of her chest, berate her for not doing what he asked before staking herself, then stake her again for good measure.
She lets out a sigh and says, "Gee, include all the useful information except ... Oh. GenTek. I guess he could be at work." She rests her head against the head rest of her seat for a few moments. She had just gotten her meds right. Getting doses that work right on a vampire without ODing is tricky. Can't even give the drugs to someone for them to bite, because the drugs still work on the person. So she was starting to feel even. Starting to feel level. Starting to feel ... normal. And just like every Arkwright that has come before her, there He is to tear that curtain back and make sure she can still see the cold, harsh reality.
She shakes her head violently, in part to get rid of that train of thought, but also to try to rouse herself to a more wakeful state. Despite that, her hands tremble when she turns on the car and starts to drive to that part of town.
The drive to the north side of town is likely had in awkward silence by Amelia, but who knows- maybe she's one of those girls that chatters away at herself when she's upset. Maybe she's running scenarios through her head on what's going to happen, or how she'll try to get out of it, or if she really will just 'take the lumps', as it were. Speaking of lumps, when that blood-red whip pulls up alongside the GenTek building, her mark is in the midst of smoking the last few puffs of a cigarette, enjoying the sunlight, and then tossing it aside as he stalks back towards the door. The store will be opening in one minute, and he has to get his mood right for his best customer service voice, it seems, because he's seen practicing smiling, waving, and nodding at his own reflection before he even attempts to go inside. The guy can't be called not- handsome. He's got a lovely undercut coif of curly black hair that scatters over thick, dark brows that play the perfect partner to piercing blue eyes. A surprisingly square jawline has a faint amount of stubble on it, and though not as tall as the behemoth men that typically wander Haven, the quiet confidence he carries about himself makes him seem larger than he is. If he's not a gym attendee by nature, Botox has certainly served him well.
What doesn't serve him well is the way he humps the air after his practice session is over, a firm vulgar thrust as he cheers himself on before tearing the door open and strutting inside with his chin lifted and his arms akimbo. It's always something with dudes that keeps them from being perfect, but at the very least it may not stop him from being... Delicious if push comes to shove.
Amelia does a quick check on what the heck GenTek even does so she won't sound like a complete moron going in there. Once that is done, she slips out of the car and quickly moves to the door to make it seem like she is frantic. It helps that she wants to get the hell out of the morning sun. She may arrive before he opens the door, but that is part of the plan, trying to increase excitability to get his guard down. Maybe so he lets her in early, and she can get him alone for a couple of minutes before someone else arrives. She scans the lot on the way over to see if anyone else is there. She tries to open the door and makes some typical aye-aye-aye type motions if it does not immediately open, trying to look frazzled and frustrated.
For a moment it seems that the mark isn't going to open the door, pretending he doesn't hear Amelia's 'desperation' on the other side of the glass. However, a quick peek over towards the door from him sees him blinking in surprise, then grinning. He faux-rushes towards the door as though he had no idea the store should already be open, and then offers her a path with a sweep of his hands. "Buongiorno, bella... What can I do for a creature as beautiful as you today? Vitamins for your perfect skin, hair, and eyes? Picking up a prescription? Dropping one off..?" he inquires, that Sicilian accent really laid on thick as he watches her.