- Mood:
drained
Leah House is a shelter and soup kitchen in the South Bronx with a bit of a twist--it also shelters and acts as an information/cooperative action center for parahumans of all types. The rules are simple: respect the privacy of the tenants, respect the peace, and don't give up the House's secrets.
NPCs include Miriam, her partner Daimon, and their employer, Ezra.
Crossovers, besides my novelverse, include the Heroes 'verse, several mythologies and any 'verse canonically located in New York City around the year 2009.
Plots will include mundane, superhero, science fiction and a somewhat Catholigoth-themed Anakim plot involving Miriam.
Anyway, that's the idea; please let me know your thoughts.
- Mood:
geeky
- Mood:
sick
- Mood:^_^
Unfortunately, he "went for a walk" during this period, and by the time I found him he was sitting there with a baffled expression on his face and...marinara sauce...in his hair. He kept mumbling about noodles. And laughing.
At least he's sleeping now. But I'm just left pondering the eternal question:
What the Hell was THAT about?
Meanwhile, I ran into a horrifying hockey-masked revenant who said he worked for Cthulhu.
Aheheheh...heheh...oh ye gods, my brain.
- Mood:O_o
With all the emergencies going on, people in peril, people desperately broken and in need of shoring up, cults to hunt and my own situation—with all the REAL emergencies going on, I should say—the LAST thing I needed was to be dragged off to another world, endangering myself and Ezra in the process, just to ease the anxieties of some teenager who has just discovered his penis—and then have him whine at me because I don’t want to date him!
He had everyone genuinely worried! I thought he was in real trouble! If anyone had seen us, both of us could have ended up being imprisoned and burned by his rabidly anti-weirdness father! And all because he got his cherry popped and now has a perpetual hard-on!
He seemed quite disappointed that I didn’t want to immediately jump down on his “problem” —with three worried people waiting outside the door, yet.
I’d like to give that selfish, sex-obsessed little prat something to whine about. There are people with REAL problems who need my time!
- Mood:disgusted
This article is very simplistic, but sums up the major points.
I support Israel, but I support neither side in this fight. Instead, I support Israel's continued existence and the protection of its citizens. But its political agenda has been completely over-the-top and mad for twenty years now. Therefore, like many Americans, I love my country, but hate its government.
--Yamamoto Tsunetomo, Hagakure: The Way of the Samurai
The dojo was unfinished, the whole place still smelling faintly of wood-stain and sawdust. Miriam had set up a pallet in one corner of the greatroom, screened off with paper screens which served as the only dividers in the dim, cool space. Up closer to the door, standing lamps ringed the single table with its heavy wooden chairs. A tea service had been set out.
Miriam meditated behind the screens, her kneeling shadow cast against them by the light of a candle.
- Mood:serene
Yeep. Now what do I do?
- Mood:O_o
...and I can't help it. Daimon's right. That place...needs a vigilante like nobody's business. But I don't have the power, even with the sword...
Damn them all. And damn me for having no option but sit here with my hands tied until they set foot off their little hell-world and come bother us again.
It makes me want to stake myself out on the Sign with a sniper rifle. But that wouldn't work either.
- Mood:powerless
"The gateway leads right to Grand Central Station," she says, gesturing with her free hand. "Give me a moment."
Unslinging her computer bag, she digs through until she comes up with a set of subway schedules, which she offers. There are a few drops of dried blood on them, and a smeared thumbprint even larger than Vandemar's.
"It doesn't matter which one you choose. He'll be on the last trip of every train. That and that fox-faced train operator. Not sure how they manage that, but that's probably more your department than mine.
"I can't accompany you, I fear. The train operator and I don't mix very well. I put a few bullets in him last time, and he never forgot how they didn't bounce off. Good hunting, gentlemen. As it were." Thin smile.
The gateway is right at the edge of a dark platform of dirty tile and concrete. Cold, fetid air blows through the gap.
"He'll be the dapper fellow in the butcher's apron. Very difficult to miss."
- Mood:creepy
http://community.livejournal.com/writer
- Mood:
nervous
In her older incarnation, Miriam looks like a very tall Israeli woman, but when she opens her mouth she sounds like an Oxford professor. She is in her sixties, but is very athletic and well-preserved save for her limp, scars, cough and various other ailments. She carries a cane to support her bad hip and knee, and never wears any color other than black. She refuses to dye her hair, and in fact got extensions after her chemotherapy which included her normal gray streaks. Her eyes are an unusually pale blue and are very light sensitive, requiring her to wear dark/polarized glasses and/or special contact lenses to protect them.
In her younger incarnation, the gray, scars, and infirmities are gone, but her eyes remain at least as light-sensitive.
Miriam is also the main character of my novel-in-progress and has actually seen print recently in the annual San Francisco Writer's Conference Anthology. Details can be found here:
http://www.iuniverse.com/bookstore/book_
The short story is titled "Chance Encounter".
- Mood:
creative
Profile
![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif)
azraelsdaughter- Miriam
Syndicate
