Caritas, Thursday

[wrongkindofsith]

There were tubs of swollen, colourful... things in the fridges behind the bar, and from the looks he was giving her, Tino was both responsible, and wanted her to try out his handiwork. Since it was obvious she wasn't going to get any work out him until she did, she fished a bright red thing out of what smelt strongly of alcohol mixed with fake fruit.

It tasted like sugary burning.

[Open, no OCD.]

The park, Friday afternoon

[vdistinctive]

It was a beautiful day, and there was nothing in particular that needed doing, so Eliot brought Val out to the park to run around and play a bit of ball.

He felt good. Just -- light and happy. And yeah, he knew this wasn't normal, that a guy like him didn't just get up one morning and throw off the weight of almost 20 years of horror and death. He knew Parker and Hardison were worried about it -- hell, the whole island knew that, thanks to the radio. But he didn't care. It all just slid off him. Sure, he'd lashed out a couple of times, lost his grip on his usually iron-tight self-control, but it was important to just let loose sometimes, too. That's all it was: letting loose.

There was one other time in Eliot's adult life that he'd "let loose". The thought of it, what he'd done, who he'd become working for Moreau, usually made him want to be sick, but it barely twinged, now. He tested it, calling up names and faces, final words and last, desperate expressions, poking at what usually felt like raw wounds in his memory -- and hardly felt it at all.

Val barked when Eliot laughed, dropping her ball and gamboling around his feet, enjoying his mood as much as he did. Eliot scooped up the ball and waved it in front of her.

"You ready, girl? Your next retrieval mission?"

Val barked again, leaping up as though to grab it, though she was clever enough to know that chasing was the best part. "Alright," Eliot said, tossing the ball from hand to hand and giving it a nice spin before pitching it across the clearing. "Go get it!"

[ooc: is park. is open. is for occaaaaaaasional slow play while I creep desperately towards vacation.]

Needful Things, Friday

[needfully-yours.livejournal.com]

Leland Gaunt's plans were proceeding ever so nicely. Far better than he had hoped. There were tendrils out in the ether; there were possibilities branching off from one another. He'd known this island was a good choice.

The sign in the window still read:

NEEDFUL THINGS
A DIFFERENT KIND OF STORE

You Won't Believe Your Eyes

and Leland Gaunt waited for more customers.

The Devil's Nest, Friday Evening

[allie-vamp.livejournal.com]

Allie was poking about on her phone, basically killing time until her shift was done and it was time to head over to the party.

She'd welcome a distraction.