Now, Ruby was no stranger to gore or violence. You didn't keep the sorta' company she kept, and grow up believing the world to be all daisies and rainbows. Even so, the spectacle that greeted her at the window churned her stomach. The Stagecoach laiden with corpses, or at least bits of them. Organs that should have been safely inside, were strewn all over what little remained. It was staggering in its brutality alone.
"That's.." What could you say? How could you even find the words? "I don't really know what that is.."
The blonde flicked her eyes to Diego, but only for a moment. The fire struck up in her peripheral vision, and her head soon followed the visage. Without realising it, Ruby puffed out her cheeks in shock. All of a sudden she wished that she was back at the camp, moaning about Mrs Grimshaw, and darning socks.
"That's not good." An understetment for sure, but it said everything that needed to be said.
So, I have the feel's for a bit of a 1920/1930's Mafia story-line. Think Rat Pack, sultry lounge singers and Las Vegas in it's glamorous Casino heyday - I'm sure you catch my drift. We're talking the style of Al Capone, with scattered cells of Mafia naughtiness all over the place. Ideally, I think we'll use San Francisco as our City, but we could just as easily go for a more Vegas or Chicago feel if it takes your fancy. I want something gritty and dangerous. (I will do a modern take on this too, if that is your preference!)
As far as pairings go, I'm toying with the idea of a Mobster run establishment that the guys use as a legitimate front. It could be a hotel, casino or even a bar. A not-at-all naive bartender gal' on a mafia payroll, and a Mobster (or even a married Boss). Either way, she certainly wont be a damsel in distress, and we could already have her heavily involved in dealings as a professional distraction. Who doesn't pour their heart out to a pretty girl behind the bar, right?
Mix it all up and I'm sure it'll make a delightful amount of drama, action and of course; some of the mushy stuff.
I do want to add here, that neither two characters want to leave this way of life. He will love being a member of the Mob, and she'll have grown up in the environment. This isn't a save me type of deal..
Yes my lovelies, there will be romance and adult content, so 18+ is a must.
Writing wise, I'm looking for High Casual to Advanced. However, this being said - I am by no means a Nazi. I expect good grammar and spelling ability, but I don't do tantrums when I see a typo. This is my hobby, I'm not grading you.
I do enjoy OOC and I like to think that I'm an approachable and to be honest; damn well amusing kinda' gal.
Oh, and as some people get twitchy with me when I don't spell out gender pairing's; I would prefer MxF, and I'm looking to be the F. That being said, I am always happy to play multiple male NPC's.
I'm going to sign off with some words from Al Capone himself..
I am like any other man. All I do is supply a demand
Ohhh, and just incase you're the picky type - here's a sneaky little sample of my work...
Being a corporate drone wasn't quite what Emily had envisaged her future career to be, but who woulda' thought that a Classical Art degree wasn't exactly the most practical when it came down to job choices? Still, it wasn't all bad. The young professional had made her way up the ladder to Creative Director with alarming speed, and of course a little help from the well timed retirement of a Co-worker. The whole suit thing wasn't something the creative types had to sport, and Em was normally covered in some form of artistic medium. Paint, pastel - white spirit. Hell, you name it and she had it.
The so called event of the year spelt out headache for Emily. It was highly amusing that the suits assumed that they actually knew more about aesthetics then the damn creative director. It was always a battle. A proverbial locking of horns so-to-speak. Nevertheless, she stood her ground and normally won for that matter. Simple.
"Meeting? Urgh, I haven't even had a coffee yet.." Em mumbled absentmindedly as she scooped up her papers. And why did Phillip always get so bloody excited in his team talk emails? Weird. He was just weird, or alarmingly peppy. Either way, it wasn't comfortable. However, her irritation was rudely interrupted when she spotted Grey.
Hmm, intriguing.
The eyebrow perked as she watched the man momentarily. He had been a real pain in the ass at School, and seeing him still left a slight prickle on her skin. However, teenage grudges aside, they were adults in their twenties now... It made no sense to hold it against him.. Besides, she'd always found him oddly attractive.
Wow, mature Em..
After realising that she'd been staring, the blonde cleared her throat. A pair of dark purple skinny jeans clung to the curve of her hip and a long sleeved - fitted black sweater finished just above her hip bones. A torrent of unruly curls hung about her shoulders, and a pair of dark green eyes looked out from a freckled complexion. All in all, she was pretty easy on the eyes.
"You coming Emily?!" Greg, her assistant called out, he was late - as usual. But hey, the dude was clutching two coffee cups, so the creative director would let that slide. "Hey, yeah - I'm here.." She wandered her way over with a dismissive wave, and the pair did a well rehearsed swap of paperwork and coffee cups. It was a beautiful spectacle, corporate ballet, that's what Greg called it.
"So, what's this all about?" Greg murmured out the corner of his mouth as they found a seat in the over populated room. "No idea." Em offered cheerfully as she sipped her warm beverage. "As long as it's over by lunch, I don't give a rats ass." And with a delightful smirk, she settled back against her chair.