caught in the rain meme

[sockle]

CAUGHT IN THE RAIN MEME

It started out quietly, and then, quite suddenly, you're caught in a storm with an endless downpour. Time to quickly find cover! Nothing much to do but to wait it out. Where is the rain happening? How are you coping? Why are you out when it hits? RULES • Leave a comment with your character's name and fandom. • RNG for a number between 1-10 to get your scenario. Mix and match! • Have fun!

SCENARIOS i WHERE: 001 PLAYGROUND | Well, you can try to hide under the slide or maybe in the jungle gym... at least you're some place fun? 002 PARK | Always happens, caught outside trying to take advantage of the weather... and it ends up pulling a fast one on you. 003 STORE FRONT | Better hope they have an awning you can take advantage of. 004 BEACH | Not exactly the best place to be during a rainstorm, however it is possible to get caught in a sudden storm. 005 FOREST | Mud, bugs and all the rambler's paths are washed away so you don't know how to get out. 006 SKY | On a plane? A pegasus? You were there when the first drop fell. 007 EMPTY CITY | Maybe it was a zombie apocalypse or WW3. It's safer outside when all the nasties take refuge indoors. 008 AT SEA | Nothing is worse than an unexpected freak storm here. Except sea monsters. 009 TEMPLE | It's beautiful, but leaky. 010 WILD CARD | Your call. ii HOW: 001 TREE | Not the best cover, but it'll have to do, stay close to the roots and you won't get too wet. 002 UMBRELLA | Most conventional... Kinda boring. But it works. 003 NEWSPAPER | Not permanent, but it'll have to do. Good luck. 004 SHIRT | Well... y'gotta do what you gotta do. 005 MAGIC | Wave that wand or chant a spell. 006 CARDBOARD | Out of a dumpster. Nice. 007 LEAVES | Not under a tree: just one really huge leaf. 008 CAVE | Not very deep, but it keeps off the worst. 009 NONE | You don't need cover, screw convention. 010 WILD CARD | Your call. iii WHY: 001 REJECTED | Welp. Rejection sucks. And no one will see you crying in the rain. 002 WAITING | For the bus? For someone else? For some revelation? What are you waiting for. 003 MELANCHOLY | Sometimes the best place to feel a bit down is out in the rain. 004 HAPPINESS | Is everything going your way? Are you singing a refrain while walking down the lane? Just singin. Singin' in the rain. 005 ANGER | WELL YOU KNOW WHAT. SCREW YOU TOO, RAIN. 006 ACCEPTANCE | You had to be here anyway, it wasn't a choice. 007 SCIENCE | Everyone else is inside but you've got work to do. 008 ACCIDENTAL | Lost track of time? Forgot your coat? Oops. Now you look like a wet rat. 009 KISSING | They kissed you. How are you supposed to leave them alone out here after that? 010 WILD CARD | Your call. ( based on original by pancaked, edit by sockle )

Comments

[celticromanstone]

The doorman bows them in the door, tipping his hat to her. "Welcome back, Mistress."

She nods in greeting to the doorman and immediately shrugs out of her coat, once they step inside. She waves over a bellhop and hands it to him, paying him a goodly tip to take the coat to her room for her. She immediately waves him away.

Heather is noteworthy for the money she spends. She makes just as much. Walking into the bar, she collapses at a table, waving Connor to the other chair and raises a finger, drawing over a waiter. "I'll have a hot toddy, and whatever for my companion. His drink will go on my bill."

[1stmacleod]

They make a definite contrast, her polite elegance, and Connor's wary feral manners. The bellhop does briefly eye Connor's coat, and the scruffy immortal hunches his shoulders and gives him a glower that banishes any though of actually offering to take it. He'll just drip on the floor, and they can damn well clean it up later. His sword is in his coat, and he's not about to be separated from it.

He follows Heather into the bar proper, and shifts a chair a little so he'll be able to keep an eye on most of the room as well as her, before he sits, but apart from his excessive caution he doesn't seem to feel awkward or out of place in the wealthy setting.

"Scotch. Glenmorangie, if you've got it." His nod to the waiter is polite enough, despite the short answer, and he drops into his chair quietly, waiting until the man is out of earshot to speak to Heather again. "...Thanks. You're not... hunting?"

[celticromanstone]

She snorts and shakes her head. "Enough trouble finds me, I don't need to go looking for more."

Their drinks are brought and Heather wraps her hands around the warm glass, sipping at the warm liquor. She sighs happily, leaning back in her chair.

If he wants a fight, she can probably work up the effort to care. However, she's really just here for business. But there's a reason that she sent her coat, and sword, off with someone else. She's trying to put him at a bit of ease. It's probably not working.

"Honestly, I haven't... been active since... well," she pauses, racking her brain for a moment. "Hmm. Must be the First Opium War." Heather shrugs easily. "Lost my taste for it. When it's necessary, I don't shrink from it, but few challenge someone like me." As old as she is, that is.

[1stmacleod]

Slowly, still watching her with those intense grey eyes, Connor leans back a little in his seat. The chair creaks softly. He takes a healthy gulp of his scotch, and some of the tension seems to ease out of him. "...Good. I was just trying to mind my own business, you know."

He's too straightforward a man by nature to lie about that. He gets restless, which sets him wandering, but once the rain really started coming down he headed for his car and was aimed at the parking lot when they spotted each other. It's an ugly night for a fight, anyway. "There's enough headhunters in the world not to go seeking any more out." The burning gaze is just him, ultimately, but it does seem to be dialing back a notch.

[celticromanstone]

Heather laughs, sipping her drink. She's starting to warm, though she needs to keep herself to the single drink and stick to coffee after that. She still needs to be very, very careful with her alcohol consumption or she could slip back into what she was back... well, it isn't all that long ago.

"I don't hunt." She shrugs. "There's usually a youngster or two that I come across now and again that seems rather eager to lose his head. But other than that? Not run across many." She tilts her glass toward Connor. "You seem to be far more wary than I remember being."

[1stmacleod]

Connor smirks faintly, but he does believe her -mostly, and he's looking much less like he'd be ready to pull his sword at any moment. Even for him, he's jumpy, but he's had some rough times, not so long ago. Nowadays he's hunted a lot more often than he's the hunter, and he's feeling a little worn down for it.

"You can say paranoid. Everyone else does. But I'm still here." He continues to smirk over his scotch, taking another gulp. His tolerance is very high, so he feels less need to be careful about it. One glass isn't enough for him to even feel it.

[celticromanstone]

She snorts and lifts a finger, ordering a coffee for herself. While her tolerance is probably high, she still spent most of latter part nineteenth and the beginning of the twentieth centuries drying out from opium and alcohol. She's no wish to go back to that. Immortals now are far more savvy than they'd been back then - or at least more technologically connected.

She puts down the toddy and waves it away when the waiter brings her coffee. She really wants the toddy back, so she should stick to coffee for the rest of the evening.

"Then again, so am I and I'm not as... wary as you. Perhaps that comes with age?" She's met some paranoid Immortals. "Besides, if you were paranoid, you never would have come to the bar. You would have bolted for the first holy ground you could find."

[1stmacleod]

While he's never fallen prey to the addictions of opium or anything else history and geography have had to offer him, Connor does drink like a fish. High tolerance helps, and he's careful about not getting actually drunk unless he's in company he trusts, he does have a history of drinking often enough that his few friends have taken note of it.

"Maybe. Maybe it comes with bad experiences. But I'm not hiding on holy ground." That's not quite true, because he has taken to heading for holy ground to sleep, but that's more of a reasonable precaution. His waking hours are not spent in hiding.

"But I'm not hunting, either. Not right now." He has, in the past, but he's always been selective about the who, going after immortals he knows are causing trouble in the world.

[celticromanstone]

By the time she'd fallen to the addictions, she was already fifteen hundred years old. It takes a toll being that old. She's sure that others who haven't found their peace and quiet in their age, have fallen victim to worse things than opium and alcohol.

She raises her eyebrows, sipping her coffee. "There's no shame in staying on Holy Ground." Heather's done her time on holy ground more than she'd care to admit. She still remembers stumbling out of the bombed church in the middle of a war and not knowing where the hell she is.

"I haven't come across a hunter in... well, since the first war." She ticks up an eyebrow. "Have you?"

[1stmacleod]

Both the man's eyes jump, and he gives a raspy, staccato laugh that fits perfectly with his hoarse voice and brash personality. "Lucky you. Plenty. Some with personal vendettas."

Now he's thinking she must have either spent a lot of time on holy ground, or is very good at keeping her head down, because Connor has faced more people after him than he wants to think about. He's laughing, but there's a hollow sound to it.

[celticromanstone]

Heather snorts, sipping her hot coffee. She knows there used to be Immortals with vendettas against her, but they all died, because she surrounds herself with mortals. Today is an aberration.

"You must not have learned how to remain quiet then." She shakes her head. "I guess it's my line of work that taught it to me." She hadn't had a choice. Plus, for a long time men wanted to keep her safe. That certainly works to her advantage.

...eyebrows jump, not his eyes... *facepalm*

[1stmacleod]

Any hint of a smile is quick to vanish again, and the intensity of the brooding gaze ramps up a little. "...Good for you." There's plenty of bitterness packed into those three words. Connor has surrounded himself with mortals before, and they paid the price for knowing him, so he's more than a little leery of trying that route again.

It's true that he made his worst enemy through his own actions, but that was a long time ago before he knew what he was, and therefore entirely an accident.

"...What was your line of work?" He's got a guess already, but she should appreciate he's making an actual effort at conversation. It seems to be a struggle for him.

[celticromanstone]

"Is, not was." Heather is still what she became almost two millennia ago. She puts her cup down and it's almost immediately refreshed by a hovering waiter. She waves him away.

"I'm a whore." She says bluntly. "Have been since I died." She shrugs. "I'm very good at it, and it pays well." Sex is just sex to her. There are different reasons behind it, but in the end, it's all just the same thing. "I've dabbled at being other things: nurse, mistress, real estate broker... but I always come back to it in the end." She stares at her coffee cup for a moment. "Are you hungry? I'm starving."

[1stmacleod]

He's quiet for a moment, although the slightly wary, intense expression doesn't flicker. Either he's a slow thinker, or he's just not good at talking. Those aren't the eyes of somebody with a slow mind, though. "...I don't know." Connor blinks, and rubs the back of his neck. He hasn't been taking good care of himself, lately, or noticing the needs of his body. Eating would probably be a good idea, though.

It strikes him that being a prostitute would actually be an excellent way to lure immortals in and get them to lower their guard. She wouldn't be the first to try that tactic, probably. On the other hand she hasn't tried to invite him to her bed (which is just as well, because he's too cautious to accept), and she said she's not hunting.

"I guess that's one job that never goes out of style." He manages a smirk.