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(Untitled)
Nadezhda had received a phone call from a very weary-sounding vampire. Normally when this happened it was a case of ringing up Greta Helsing and telling her to go on up to the Moon and do something involving yelling and inhalers, but in this case...no. Personal involvement seemed on the menu ( Read more... ) -
[Paper journal.]
....well, that was the saddest, sweetest abduction I've ever experienced. Not like when Crane did it. That was neither sad nor sweet, that was a killing offense.
Oh, poor Marginatus. Um. I think I learned something, though: it sucks horribly to love and not be loved in return, but it also sucks to be loved and not love back ( Read more... ) -
Housewarming party at Mayfair Nexus!
Come on over and be drunk and disorderly in style. -
(Untitled)
Due to amusing little antics, RL issues, and some complicated stuff that has been going on for a while now, N is now confidential.
Please do not take this as a personal slight, anyone. I have been meaning to do this for some time.
( Read more... ) -
(Untitled)
Nadezhda has been home from the Prince estate for a day and a night now, and while still trying to shake off whatever ungodly perversion of flu she managed to acquire, she is amazed at the calmness with which she has dealt with this latest upheaval in her life. The conversation with Thunder still needs to be had, and she isn't looking forward to ( Read more... ) -
Locked to Solice.
She's set wards and wards around the lab, and cleared everything other than the single exam table, cushioned and gleaming beneath the surgical lights. Nobody is around. If anything horrible goes wrong, she and Solice are the only ones who will be hurt. -
At home. Not at ease. Possible spoilers.
*She paces. It's been hours, now; not like this was unexpected, but she still paces. Her cigarette is burning unheeded between her fingers, and her hair has extracted the sticks she's tried to put it up with and is trying, uncoordinatedly, to play air drums with them.* -
(Untitled)
[locked to Snape]
She appears with him in the pleasant clutter of her office, flopping into the chair behind the burn-scarred desk and lighting a cigarette.
"Sit down, would you? You look like a Lethifold's laundry. And have a drink." -
Pleasant ennui.
*Nadezhda is sitting at the desk in her office, absently writing up notes on the General's progress, head resting on her hand, a cigarette smouldering gently in the grip of a tendril of hair. A lot has happened in the past few days, not all of it bad ( Read more... )