An Alleyway in the Abandoned Warehouse District, Thursday

[whatafuture.livejournal.com]

Sometimes, a boy just needed to get a bit of reading in. Which is why William was currently perched on the back step of a building, nose buried in a French translation of The Art of War.

Perhaps not the most inconspicuous reading material, all things considered, but the fact that it was in French (and the fake cover he'd carefully glued on in place of the real one) would hopefully be enough to throw off any potential loyalists who might take issue with his reading material, should they happen upon him.

And although he looked for all the world as if he were completely absorbed in the book, William had been in Fandom (and a part of the resistance movement) long enough to know one could never really keep one's guard down, and so while most of his attention was indeed focused on the book, he was also listening carefully to his surroundings, and darting quick glances about the alleyway every so often.

[ooc: expecting one, but also open! SP once afternoon rolls around.]

Magic Box, Thursday, 7/26

[world-enchanted.livejournal.com]

Every time Tara came into the shop, she expected the worst. It operated in a grey zone -- as long as almost nothing was on display except worthless plastic amulets and smelly incense, most of the time Umbridge and her goons let it be.

But that was only most of the time. There'd been a couple bad days over the last few years.

But today things were as normal as they ever were, so Tara started her day unpacking a shipment of Chinese Zodiac 2013 calendars. At lunch, she might take a risk by locking the door and letting herself into the real supplies to see what she could cobble together for Saturday, but that had to wait until she could be certain no one would wander in.

[OOC: Open shop! Any discussion of the Magic Box stocking anything with real magic is for resistance broadcast only.]

The Streets (and Rooftops) of Fandom, Thursday

[hehasheart.livejournal.com]

After a busy morning, being on patrol was kind of relaxing. Honestly, this was the part of Clint's job he liked the most, getting to watch what people were doing and putting the pieces of everyone's lives together into a great big island puzzle. Getting to shoot the people when they were bad was just a bonus at this point, and as for his shooting, he was determined that no one would be getting away from him today.

[Open!]

The Umbridge Arms, Thursday

[weldedtomyspine]

Jaime was distracted. Which wasn't entirely unusual. What was unusual was that he was distracted enough to, well, be noticeably distracted. He was usually quite good at being attentive and helpful and getting work done.

And of having a good idea of where the loyalties of everyone around him lay. Considering the work he did on the side, that was pretty important.

But today he was just distracted. He was at the front desk turning a bit of pink plastic over and over in his hands. It looked an awful lot like a make-up compact, actually. Not something that Jaime was likely to have considering the fact that he didn't wear make-up himself, and that he didn't really spend that much time around people who did. Mostly because he didn't spend that much time around people.

Maybe he'd just found it lying around somewhere. That seemed likely.

Every so often he would shake himself, trying to escape whatever thoughts held him in reverie, and look around. After all, he had a job to do. Two, really. Assisting Arms guests was one, and doing what little he could for the Resistance was the other.

And given his discussion with Ender the day before, that second one was beginning to feel more urgent.

Atlas Gym, Thursday

[sonofgreathern.livejournal.com]

The resistance was full of some rather tough characters, as Tim knew from experience. So he was careful to keep in tip top fighting shape.

In addition to a regular work out, he trained with his sword as often as he could.

The problem was, when he did, it kept bringing back memories of the girl who had taught him most of what he knew. A girl who had had to be...

He paused in his routine to take a few deep breaths. Don't think about her, don't think about her.

[Open, naturally.]

The Nominal Probably Temporary Wiggin Hideout, Thursday

[lockeunlocked.livejournal.com]

Peter was back in today.

He was clearing out his desk. It was a periodical activity - he never liked to leave anything lying around where it could be found. So: gathering up large amounts of paper that was... probably edible (but like he was going to eat that?) and dragging it out to the center of the room to put it through the shredder.

After shredding, he was probably going to burn it somewhere controllable.

But right now: shredding.

[[ open for interacting with peter and with one another, la ]]

The Perk, Thursday afternoon

[hiddenkilt.livejournal.com]

Priestly was looking slightly more rumpled than usual, today, sitting outside the Perk with his tea and his papers and cookbooks. His slacks were wrinkled, his tie loosened around his neck. His five o'clock shadow was a good three hours early, and judging by the bags under his eyes, he hadn't slept well, last night.

Mind you, he never slept well. He just usually managed to hide it better.

He was meant to be starting work on his lesson plan for next week's class -- it was a fairly standard, innocuous sort of behavior to be caught at, demonstrating his supposed devotion to Umbridge and her administration. Today, he was mostly just flipping idly through cookbooks and wishing his tea was spiked.

It was hard to focus on a lesson plan when there was a possibility that this would all be over by Saturday night.

[ooc: One expected, but most certainly also open.]

'Dite's Decadent Delights, Thursday

[missteenrebel.livejournal.com]

Petra West would have liked to have stayed in her hideout today, but she had a front to put on, a supply of NEW Lady 'Stache Off with triple beauty action^TM to check on, and supplies to pick up. So she was going to work. She wasn't as deep underground as many members of the resistance--being a beauty queen had its perks, one of which was learning how to be a little two-faced--and so far had been able to hold down a day job without too many problems.

So here she was in this lovely bath and beauty store, manning the counter, arranging things just so on the shelves, and occasionally disappearing into the back room. To check the stock, of course. Yeah. That was it. Certainly it wasn't to pass anything out the back door to any waiting resistance members, or to slip a jar of the special Lady 'Stache Off or a week's supply of her medication into her bag. That would just be silly, and risk her tenuously tolerated status.

Which was to say, no way she was serving you at the back door without the password.

'Dite's Decadent Delights is open. Both faces of it.

Caritas, Thursday evening

[regretiz4u.livejournal.com]

Kenzi was trying to get last minute things done. She had another idea to indulge in on Saturday, as well as a person to wear the Koushang (assuming it really was one, and really worked) to find.

Meanwhile, enjoy your totally normal restaurant. Where the hostess can't drink. Damnit.

The Streets of Fandom

[cold_hard_heart]

Emma had been on her way to hit Demon Marcus and then go see Callie when it hit her, and she stumbled into the street.

Detention.

The angry and despairing thoughts were like a hurricane, even from here, and the cause was Raven. And...Sookie.

Someone was about to be in a lot of trouble with Auntie Emma.

[OOC: Establishy, NFI unless you're silly enough to try and talk to her.]

Demon Marcus, Thursday

[scars-and-money.livejournal.com]

Another week, another productive day of work for Jeremy at Demon Marcus!

At least if your definition of a productive day of work (like Jeremy's definition thereof) involved shuffling around a clothing store all day, waiting for people to come in with reports of any traitor scuffles in town so he could... take said reports back to the castle, probably? He wasn't really sure, because no one tended to come in to report anything that much. And he was fine with that. It meant he could just chill and inspect the clothing stock to see that they were all up to Umbridgean standards. And if today, that meant spending most of his day in the section with men's suits, well, it was just his lucky day, wasn't it?

It was entirely possible that he'd been tasked with this simply because it kept him out of the way of the loyalists who were doing actually productive things.

[ooc: No OCD!]

the graveyard ; thursday evening

[slackernomore.livejournal.com]

Sam actually hadn't been out much since the other day. He'd laid low, taken some time to recharge his batteries and was out again. The graveyard probably wasn't the most normal place to be but Sam was far from normal. In fact, he was actually contemplating raising the whole graveyard just to give the resistance some extra bodies. They'd listen to him, he'd control them and he'd feel like crap about it later.

The graveyard wasn't large but there were enough tombstones that Sam knew he'd have to cut himself and bleed a lot just to get the whole cemetery up and about. It wasn't something he was looking forward to, no.

There was a knife in his pocket though and he was crouched down near one gravestone, trying to stay hidden while he wondered if this was a good idea. Well no, he knew it wasn't a good idea but he wondered if he should do it anyway.

He wasn't great in a fight but he could bring an army of undead so that was...something, right?

[FB for resistance only but open post, shore shore. Sam's not really gonna raise anyone but he's contemplating it, at least!]

A rooftop in the warehouse district, Thursday Evening

[whateverknight.livejournal.com]

Leon sat on the edge of a rooftop, staring down at the alley below. Angelo curled up behind him, thumping her tail and whuffling periodically.

It was way too open and exposed. A loyalist might see him. But... he had wanted to watch the sunset, tonight. And now that it was nothing more than a faint glow over the mainland, he felt a little more at peace. This weekend, everything was going to change -- one way or the other. If they failed, which they probably would... he didn't think he could keep this up any longer. If he was still alive on Monday, he'd turn himself in.

And if they succeeded... well, he didn't have any hope of that. He'd do his best to keep the other resistance members alive, though. He reached back and stroked Angelo's fur gently, finding comfort in her.

[Open like a rooftop! All are welcome to visit, but for Resistance broadcast only.]

'Dite's Decadent Delights, Friday

[regretiz4u.livejournal.com]

D-Day minus one. Not that you could tell that by the front face of the store, stocked as it was with herbal bath salts and bath foam products. Or the perky, sweet girl at the front counter, totally willing to help you find the right soap.

The back room, with its stockpile of NEW Lady 'Stache Off with triple beauty actionTM, was another story altogether.