peachykean: (Groovy.)
Barbara Kean ([personal profile] peachykean) wrote in [community profile] genessia2016-11-21 01:11 am


Dun dah dah duuuun~ ♫

[ It'd been an hour or two since she'd arrived. Barbara had wandered around Genessia City for some time, just observing the place with a sense of wonder. The quiet humming had come about when she'd walked by a dress shop and saw just the loveliest dress. It really was too bad. She smiled and tilted her head slightly. Not ending up in a coma again was probably for the best and the jailbait at the gate made it sound like it wasn't likely she was going to be seeing good old Jim any time soon anyhow. No Jim, no Tabitha. Not even a Butch to play with. This place was boring already.

She turns on her heel to face the nearest person, a smile plastered to her face that seemed just a little off. Not insincere, of course. She seemed legitimately excited all things considered. ]

Hi. Yes, you. Hello, I'm Barbara. Do you mind helping a girl out?

[ There are a lot more things to get acquainted with than the rules and regulations if you want to be comfortable, starting with the people. ]
black_black_heart: (suit and glasses)

[personal profile] black_black_heart 2016-11-21 01:35 pm (UTC)(link)

[Tannusen had paused near the storefront too, he himself dressed mostly in white.]

That depends on the type of help you want, doesn't it?
black_black_heart: (tiger - yes?)

[personal profile] black_black_heart 2016-11-22 05:26 am (UTC)(link)
Ohhh, the sort of question asked by few and far between.

[The tiger-turned-man has his black-gloved hands in his trouser pockets. He takes them out to tick people off on his fingers.]

Let's see... we have literal Dracula in Everglade, and rumor has it we have the actual devil... somewhere. There's a bunch of priests with some very un-priestly tendencies... especially that dark-haired one who bums around in bunny slippers. There's a fellow named Sun Wukong who I've never seen, but he owns a lot of things, and the same goes for that Weiss Schnee lady from the hologram.

No organized crime that I've seen. Nothing memorable, anyway. No gangs, or mobsters that I've seen...


[Tannusen pauses, and smiles as though he'd forgotten.]

...and then there's myself, of course.
Edited 2016-11-22 05:26 (UTC)
black_black_heart: (fae mien - eye)

[personal profile] black_black_heart 2016-11-24 08:07 pm (UTC)(link)
From what I've seen, they just exist and are rich. As for what I'm supposed to be?

[Tannusen considers the question, and then laughs. There's something off about his upper and lower canines. It's impossible to place, the slipped seeming making the veil between his mortal guise and his real form a bit too thin there.]

Hungry, at present. Let's just say, once the shop-keep disappears in a few minutes, you're free to take whatever you want, and no one will be the wiser. He doesn't even have cameras rolling. Have fun!

[With that, he pushes open the door to the shop with the pretty dress, and makes his way casually for the owner. The predator aura is more than just a feeling, it's in his gait, in the casual way he saunters around the counter and drapes an arm around the stranger's shoulders. He's like... well, a big cat.]

[A big, hungry cat.]

[Tannusen casually leads the shopkeep into a back room, and then the pair of them somehow vanish entirely from the premises, if Barbara even bothers to check.]
black_black_heart: (baby you're leaving blood on the glass)

[personal profile] black_black_heart 2016-11-28 03:16 am (UTC)(link)
[No cameras on the premises, a comment about being hungry -- if anyone puts two and two together after the shopkeep never comes back, Tannusen knows there's only one 'witness'. One with nothing for evidence. She'd be next on his menu.]

[In the meantime, however, the pair are definitely gone, with no visible means of escape. There's no one to reply, not even the mop against the wall in the storeroom has a response. Because let's face it, Barbara's not fae enough to get inanimate objects to talk. Unlike Tannusen.]

[She's not missing much there, though. Mops are terrible conversationalists. Fun dance partners in a pinch, though.]