[open/active] If you like it innovative Better get someone creative honey

[godofcologne]

Characters: Thomas Raith, anyone who wants to run into him
Time: Daytime
Location: Blackstone Hotel: Charity's forge, the lobby, in the halls, gym, etc
Content: One vampire, armed to the teeth, wandering around the Blackstone Hotel. Because this'll end well.
Format: Poster's choice. Prose/commentspam/whatevs.
Warning: Beware of Thomas.
Notes: Multiple

Comments

Bad Idea? Probably. Gym

[becauseimboring]

[godofcologne]

He took a few more swipes at the chairs before he was satisfied that whatever damage dragon fire had done to the falcata had been undone. Or at least mitigated. Thomas turned his attention from the splintered furniture to the newcomer, a smirk growing on his face as he watched her stack weights on the bench press. "Benching without a spotter's liable to get you killed, sweetheart. Don't they teach that in gym?" he drawled.

[becauseimboring]

[godofcologne]

Thomas shrugged off Clare's comment about his sister as he opened the duffel bag and slid the falcata inside. He'd called Lara worse and meant it more. "Hate the player, not--" He paused and chuckled, catching his own words. "No, hate the game too."

He watched Clare on the bench press for a repetition or two, and shrugged, zipping shut the duffel bag. "Suit yourself, sweetheart. Sixty pounds or whatever those weights plus the bar are worth'll still hurt like hell if your arms give out mid-rep."

gym

[keeps_in_step]

Derek had explored a few areas, carefully as there were a lot of less than pleasant beings around and bad weather. When he didn't feel like risking outside, he explored inside the hotel and tried to get a better sense of who had also found themselves in this strange place.

The sounds of crack and something small falling to the ground caught Derek's attention. Someone was doing something at the hotel's gym. He doubted it was push ups.

Peering in, he saw a man slicing away at a wooden chair. It seemed more lay in wait for the same faith. Derek waited a moment longer before entering the gym and asking, "What did the chair do to deserve that?"

[godofcologne]

Thomas kicked the chair's wooden leg out of his path before turning at the sound of the voice to regard a vaguely familiar man at the door. He couldn't place him, not immediately, despite the very large, very distinctive red afro. "The chair was looking at me funny," he answered, running a hand through his hair and hefting the falcata again. "Maybe I'll even set its head on a pike as a warning to all the other chairs."

[keeps_in_step]

It was the hair, wasn't it? Initial changes in melodies were always because of the hair. At least, that had been what the Agent had grown to know.

Derek nodded his head toward the other chairs on the dolly. "Think this works too." If chairs could be threatened, attack one in front of them had to count. Then a thought occurred to him. "What would be a chair's head, anyways?"

[godofcologne]

It was the hair, but it wasn't shock for Thomas, just a niggling sense of faint recognition. It was probably nothing, and Thomas shrugged it off for the moment. He laughed, amused, at Big Red's willingness to play along, and nudged the broken chair with his foot. "Beats me," he answered. "I'd say it was the top of the back, but that's not particularly impressive mounted on a pike."