I have finally discovered what has been draining my energy and causing both the low grade fever and the inflammation problems that have been messing with me for three months--apparently an allergy to mosquito bites runs in my family, getting worse as we get older. :/ I will try and keep up on current rp threads, but between this, trying to find an agent and the usual work craziness/disabled sweetie stuff, I remain somewhat slow, for which I really do apologize. I promise to make it up to people with interesting stuff or at least lots of humor as soon as RL stops using me as a trampoline.

Current Mood: drained

Daimon clambered back down the pine tree now growing near the lighthouse at the far end of his property, and stepped back to peer up at the nesting platform he'd just installed. At the base of the tree, he'd piled materials--small twigs, straw, and a small bag of Harvey's fur for lining.

The Bunny himself occasionally wandered up to the fence to investigate (and beg scritches). Daimon had deliberately picked a tree that was on the other side of the fence, as the last thing that his transformed guests needed was a clumsy (destructive) visit by a curious megabun.

"Phew! Well, that's it--everything's ready." Slapping bits of bark off his palms, he let out a little sigh. Now for the hard part--convincing one half of the nesting pair not to kill him when they transferred the eggs....

"You know, you're lucky," Daimon purred as he carried Zance up the stairs. "I should have just set to on the couch downstairs and let you live with the risk. Unfortunately, I've no desire to accidentally break your sister's brain..." He laughed gently into her hair.

He remembered the first time they'd taken the trip this way, frantic and stumbling and with his head still half full of doubt and guilt. Now he only worried for her safety, and not right now. Right now he could lay all of that aside.

His loafers were downstairs by the door; he kicked off his socks and then set her on the bed and stopped a moment to steal another kiss.

Current Mood: naughty

My sweetie's in the hospital again, and I won't know how he's doing until the end of the night at the earliest. Apologies to those I owe tags, but I can't really think about rp at the moment.

A quarter ton of tiger with unusually bright orange eyes and a sparkly-ass disco-ball of a crystal on a gold rope around his neck: not. Inconspicuous. At all. Normally, anyway. And most especially if he should be sneaking (back) into Zance's bedroom, a red satin bag that wiggled slightly hanging from his jaws.

He paused to look at Zance, hoping she was still sleeping, and then gingerly set the bag down on the bed where he'd been curled up half an hour ago. "OK," he whispered to its contents. "Your show now."

He backed off and ducked down onto the floor, doing a fair imitation of a (very large) floor pillow.

http://community.livejournal.com/sages_of_chaos/8407453.html?thread=564981917#t564981917

I don’t even know what I’m going to do to that cult when I catch them. But I know that the next member I see is going to come stumbling back to his own world completely mind-wiped. In fact, I’m really thinking of taking my partner, going there now, tracking them down and killing them all myself.

I’m sick of this. Miriam and my family are propping me up while I try for the umpteen bazillionth time to get Zance, her lover or someone else from that shithole world-set out of trouble. There’s always some goddamned reason why we’re supposed to let those cultists live, and I’m done listening. The cops didn’t do shit. Jean-Claude didn’t do shit (except hit on Zance, making him a bastard as well as useless). It’s time to get rid of that cult and anyone trying to protect them in the most final way possible.

I just wanted to fall in love with a nice girl, have lots of sex and be happy. For once. Now instead I’m always dealing with an ENTIRE GODDAMNED WORLD that lusts after my girl and wants to kill her, fuck her or enslave her. I’m ready to beg Hermes on my fucking knees to close those gateways for good.

I swear…I’ll save Zance from those goddamned cultists and shut them down, just like Miriam helped shut down Nathaniel’s attackers. But after that, anyone who brings any more motherfucking drama into my life from that world is going to be sent back to theirs in GODDAMNED PIECES. I don't care whose friend they are.

And then I’m quitting the Nexus for good. People can find someone else to help protect them, and help them work out all their shit, and all the rest of it. I’M BEING DRAINED DRY.

Off to find Joshua, or that hunter, and take some of this rage out on them. People here will be safe now that Ezra’s around.

Daimon sat with Miriam on the porch of his townhouse as they went over the short list of supplies. "Yes," he was reassuring her, "I won't have a problem maintaining contact with you and all the hunters at once. We've done more than that during the zombie attacks."

"Yes, but I still don't want to overtax you." Miriam's arm was still in a cast, now emblazoned with even more signatures--some of which looked very weird.

"I'm more worried about overtaxing you. Whatever happens tonight, stick by me physically, all right?"

"Unless I'm desperately needed elsewhere, of course."

"So, the plan is, we go up into the Berkeley Hills. The Dog Patrol will be flushing boars for us, and we'll have a secondary team on standby to help us--who?"

"Haldir, Bob, maybe Jen."

"Jen? This is a boar hunt, not a bong party."

Miriam shrugged. "She wanted to meet people. And she does have a number of useful healing skills."

( So my relationship is officially open and I'm not even yelling at Nate for what he did. But is that good enough? Noooo. )

Aoife has a solution. It will involve exposing Miriam to the same Fae energies that saved her. It may make Miriam a half-Fae too, which would be...odd...but it would save Miriam from becoming evil under the yoke of a more powerful Beast.

She's accepted. It's such a relief. She's gone from re-reading the Hagakure and leaving traces of silver in her bullet-molds to going around the Nexus trying to get her cast signed by the most unique people she can. I think the actual danger is past...

...but I suspect impending weirdness is NOT past.

What happens when you take an overabundance of human life-force, a lycanthropy infection, and Guardian Fae energies, and...mix them all together in the body of a woman with Miriam's...heritage?

O_o

Oh well. It can't be any weirder than giant bunnies.

(Can it?)

Current Mood: hopeful

( Cut for relationship stuff and ranting )

( Cut for smiting and a solid R rating... )

Gah. I had a bit of bad luck, and I'm currently noodled out on muscle relaxers due to a badly pulled shoulder muscle. I'm still here, and am feeling a bit better, but I'm going to be slow until tomorrow.

Thus any new plots, including the silly sexy one, need to be on hold for about 24, and my pups will be a bit slow. I'm sorry about that. :(

Daimon's bedroom looked like a Disney acid trip at the moment. If it had been just him, it would have been a simple matter of a pale, sweaty, queasy-looking fellow in bed, sleeping off a hangover or the flu or something similar.

However, besides Junior curled up in the crook of his arm, there was a purple jerboa curled up on Junior's tummy, an enormous, lanky black puppy at the foot of the bed, and a tiny pastel-colored pegacorn curled up on his pillow.

"Ugh," he managed, unaware of much of anything as he woke up and flailed for the bedside phone. least I'm not puking anymore. But I gotta see where Zance and Miriam got to.

OK. So. Daimon just got smote by His Lokiness. He's...er...uh...yeah. I'm gonna just put this behind a cut. XD

( I know you're all gonna look behind this anyway...hee... )

ANYway, here's how I'm going to handle this plot. I am exhausted tonight and tying up all sorts of other plots, and want to check something with Loki-mun, so I will instead start this plot tomorrow. There will be one private and one or two public posts in total. I will not, again, be tagging other people's posts unless there's no IC excuse not to.

After this, I need to do a slightly backdated post from when Daimon returned home after fighting Joshua. After that, the next RP post will start the plot.

Daimon always made sure to give the front room a proper cleaning before Mio showed up. Her careful attention to protocol was almost intimidating at times, and he wanted her to be comfortable. So today, besides making sure her flower pictures were up, he set a framed and covered piece of artwork on the main sideboard, just across from the door.

He's a little tired, and every once in a while he rubs one shoulder a bit as he works. Long week, but I'm still feeling better than I have in a while.

Humming, he unties his apron and goes to put it away.

Today, I do my level best to start showing a very ladylike lady that it's just fine to kick ass and take names when you have to...and that you can learn to do it without blowing your cool. I have a feeling she has a talent for it.

He stopped outside on the porch to set incenses in each of his wall shrines, especially Lakshmi, Siva, and Kuan Yin, who each got an extra stick.



((OOC note: This thread takes place a few nights after Daimon's return to the Nexus, for the sake of continuity of ongoing plots and...all that sorta stuff. :)))

Current Mood: happy

And here he was, sneaking home like a randy teenager for some private time before Junior came back from Miriam's. Feverish, almost drunk-feeling and radiating happy horniness like a psychic lamp just so the excess didn't make him crash the Lotus, he pulled up in front of the kyoto-machiya and sit there a few moments just to control his galloping pulse.

( So she wants to test my self-control, he thought, with a gleam in his eye that the brown contact lenses didn't do much to hide. )

Current Mood: happy

How is it that ginormous predators can be so damn cute sometimes?

( Streeeeeetch.... )

You know, screw this. I am tired of staying isolated in my head all the goddamned time because people in the Nexus carry around so many paranoid and undeserved prejudices against psychics. I am going mad from the silence and the sense of being utterly alone. No real friend would expect me to do this to myself. And why should I worry about the comfort level of bigots? They should change their thinking, not guilt-trip me into pretending to be head-blind!

I'm going mad. From this and everything else. So to Hell with anyone who expects me to just keep suffering so they can be a *tiny bit* more comfortable around me. If they cared about me one bit, they wouldn't make me do this. Let's not even go into the sense of rejection and being unfairly distrusted.

So, I have to explain this to everyone who hangs out with me regularly, and see who my real friends are. Because no real friend would put me through this, and I'd rather see them show their true colors now than keep falling apart.

On top of everything else.

The smell of barbecue drifted over the cluster of kyoto-machiya, originating in Daimon's back yard. No, Harvey had not met any untimely end; he was frolicking in his paddock, along with a giggling tiger cub. Instead, today's grill was barbecued albacore and mixed vegetable shish kebab.

Daimon hummed as he worked. Well, gifts are all bought or made and wrapped, except of course for the one showing up Christmas morning for Junior. Think I'm on time for the meal...wonder who Aoife's bringing?