Rebels & Mutineers is set in modern day New Orleans, Louisiana. R&M is fueled by player's plots and group input.
Supernatural people have always had their place in society, hidden in plain sight or locked away for their own protection. New Orleans, a haven for the strange and mysterious and a magnet for the supernatural.
Established: Oct. 27th, 2018 Recently Updated Posts && Recently Updated Threads
05.11.19
As the community reels from the untimely death of Lucia Lovelle, life has to move on. Primrose readies for the annual Prom celebration! Keep your eye out for a event board and have fun!
02.27.19
It's not too late to vote for February's OTM winners! The winners for January, keep an eye out on your messages for your winner's graphics for your signature. Already voted? Make sure you check out the Mardi Gras event board! Party up, have a good time, and enjoy!
Josephine Jane Rochester had a hard time keeping assistants around. There just seemed to be something about the position that attracted the worst people. Kayla could never remember a coffee order, Lisa was cute but typed slower than a sloth on downers, Wendy spent more time flirting at the watercooler than doing her actual job, and don’t even ask about Heather. Heather had made her want to pull a Naomi Campbell, which would do nothing for her reputation around the office, and with how hard Heather’s head was, she would have just shattered her cellphone. Needless to say, Heather had to go, and since her, Joey hadn’t even tried to hire a new PA.[break][break]
But the days were long without her morning coffee, and she had more to do with her precious time than wait in line. She had tried it one morning after a night out and decided then and there that it was time; she would have to break down and hire someone new. As soon as the idea formed, she sent a text to Beatrice Fawn Rochester, asking how to acquire one of the creatures she taught to perform such menial tasks. After being informed that teenagers did not prefer to be called creatures, Joey had her efforts directed away from Primrose, which was for the best. Joey remembered being a student there, and she remembered the types of people that Primrose reared. They were not exactly the type to be particularly enjoyable; they were more Heather than anything else. Her office was already full of adults too privileged to be worth a damn; she didn’t need to stock it with teenagers with the same attitude.[break][break]
Instead, she had put out a feeler to another local school, who she had heard gave some of their students up for similar internships. It did not occur to her that other internships were relevant to those students’ career interests; she just knew there was a bank of teenagers with powers who could be in want of a little spending money. She had spoken briefly with an English teacher there, who agreed that such an opportunity could be useful experience for the kids. Joey didn’t question how doing her coffee runs and copying was useful experience and just left her name and number and decided to wait.[break][break]
It didn’t take long before the teacher called her back and had a student interested, someone she specifically called “a sweet kid.” That was good enough for Joey; as long as the kid could handle coffee orders and how to perform rote tasks around the office when she needed them, they would do. It wasn’t as though she had plenty of kids beating down her door to work for her. She arranged for the kid to meet her in a local café on the first day he could; it wouldn’t be much of an interview, though. She was desperately jonesing for her morning coffee again. She chose a spot in the front of the café and projected an air of professionalism and no-nonsense. Or at least she hoped. There was only such a little window of time to put the fear of God in the hearts of new hires.
Post by Elliot Bartholomew Davies on Mar 3, 2019 5:45:06 GMT
❝ Heart beats me down, hollow now this house is a burial ground
I guess I'll just see you around ❞
No matter what Elliot did it seemed like everyone saw him as nothing more than a kid, even worse, a young kid, a little brother, a nuisance. It was infuriating. He needed to find a way to alter everyone’s perception of him so they would treat him like the budding adult that he was. That was proving a difficult task. It didn’t matter how well he spoke, how good his grades were, or how much he knew he was still just a child in everyone’s eyes. Most disheartening was that he was still a child in his siblings’ eyes. Even Ezra, who was less than a year older than Elliot, thought of him as nothing but a kid.
When Miss Morgan mentioned a job opportunity Elliot saw it his opportunity to change everyone’s mind. What was more grown-up than getting a job? A job in an office no less. He wasn’t exactly sure what the job entailed but he knew that he wanted, wanted it more than anyone else at Phalanx.
Ell spent the entire day before the interview preparing. He neglected to tell Jaxon, Piper, and Ezra though. This was something that he wanted to do on his own. If he asked for their help it felt as if somehow it would diminish his accomplishment. This was something that he had to do all on his own.
He spent hours researching what went into a resume and wrote and rewrote his own until it was polished to near perfection.
He pestered Mr. Carver into taking him to Goodwill where he picked out a beige suit that was likely older than he was. Carver’s snorting laughter was a blow to the boy’s confidence but it was lessened by the fact that the bearded recruiter paid for the suit.
He walked the French Quarter, preparing his route to the Quarter Cafe and finding alternatives in case something happened.
He even set twelve alarms to make sure that he woke up in time to get ready, setting two of them on Ezra’s phone much to his brother’s chagrin. Elliot had done everything within his power to make sure that he was prepared for the interview with the exception of sleeping at their selected morning spot. Despite his preparation, he was a bundle of raw nerves. He spent the night tossing and turning. Apparently, he hadn’t needed the alarms as he was awake when the symphony of buzzers filled the air. As tired as he was, he meticulously went through his morning ritual and put on his threadbare suit.
He was out the door of Phalanx before almost any of the student body were awake.
--------
Elliot fiddled with the resume clutched between his hands, the plastic cover crinkling with every twitch of his spindly fingers. He had spent hours killing time within close proximity of the cafe just to make sure that he’d arrive on time. Now that it was time to hold the interview he was having second thoughts. Exactly how taboo was it to not show up to an interview? His sense of duty won out against his nervousness as he pressed forward into the breach.
Elliot had little trouble picking out his prospective employer. Even from afar she radiated an aura of… it wasn’t quite authority in the sense that Elliot was used to dealing with. Nor was it simple entitlement. He was too young and inexperienced to truly place it but it left no question that this woman, where ever she went, was in charge. “M-miss Rochester?” Elliot stammered as he approached the stoic woman. “My name’s Elliot, I-I’m here for the interview.” Elliot stood beside the chair and awaited instruction before sitting down. He wasn’t exactly sure how the whole interview process worked but waiting to be told what to do seemed like a good call.
Joey sat, straight-backed and ankles crossed beneath her chair, and waited for the inevitable kid to walk up. In her head, she was already picturing some acne-covered sixteen-year-old who would barely be qualified to replace the paper in the printer. Ugh. It wasn’t like it really mattered; anyone was coachable if you yelled at them enough. That had always been her creed. She was not expecting, however, the baby-faced boy who walked up. Oh. Fucking. God. This kid was twelve. Could twelve-year-olds even work in Louisiana? Actually, on second thought, they probably could; it was a backward ass state. Honestly, he looked like someone had stuffed two toddlers into a beige tent and then let them loose in downtown New Orleans. She had no idea if she should hire him or help him look for his lost mother. Before she could stop herself, she eyed up the kid with a bit more judgement than she intended. Oh, this was going to be interesting, at the very least.[break][break]
She cleared her throat and squared her shoulders before gesturing to the empty seat in front of her. She had even sprung for a pair of prescriptionless glasses for the occasion, to complete the look of intelligence and authority. She looked at him over their tortoiseshell rims. “You must be the applicant from Phalanx. Did you bring a copy of your resume?” She could clearly see the plastic-covered thing in his hands, but he did not seem to want to give anything without explicit instructions. That was definitely a point in his favor. He was less likely to go rouge if he could follow her instructions to the letter. Unlike Kayla, who thought that two sugars would suffice when she was clearly asked for three. Would they even sell a twelve-year-old coffee?[break][break]
She wracked her brain for the kid’s name, but she couldn’t remember for the life of her if it was Elijah or Eliot. Or maybe it was Elvis. Either way, she ditched the first name entirely. “So, Mr. Davies, is it? Tell me about yourself.” That was a totally standard question during interviews. A good old standby. No one could totally tell that she was more used to firing than hiring.
Post by Elliot Bartholomew Davies on Mar 31, 2019 20:59:34 GMT
❝ Heart beats me down, hollow now this house is a burial ground
I guess I'll just see you around ❞
Elliot almost crumpled under the scrutiny that the woman placed him under. Her eyes seemingly judging everything about him. His palms grew moist with perspiration and he felt the familiar sensation of his knees weakening. When Miss Rochester gestured to the seat he was all too grateful. Ell tried to take his place with all the grace his gangly frame could muster, which was apparently none. Using more strength than he meant to he yanked back on the seat and sent it clattering to the ground. Eyes in the coffee shop turned to the rancor. “Sorry,” he mouthed, reaching down and righting the stool before joining his prospective employer at the table, passing her his resume as he got situated.
“Tell me about yourself.”
Elliot hated talking about himself but from what everyone told him he was supposed to brag about himself. He was his least favorite subject. It had been hard enough to write positive things about himself but verbally relaying them… Elliot wiped his now openly wet hands on his suit pants.
“Uhm,” Elliot pretended to clear his throat, remembering that one of the tips he saw online said for him to exude confidence. He wasn’t exactly sure how he was supposed to do that but he was sure speech disfluency was not going to help him seem particularly confident. “Well," he winced, realizing that the did it once more. “I’m a very driven individual who has a knack for organization and punctuality. I have a four point oh grade point average and have never missed a day of school in the last six years. My best subjects are science and math but I do excellent in almost everything else with the exception of creative writing. My teachers say that I tend to try and cram too much in. Which, is my biggest flaw, I try to do too much.” Elliot extended a finger with each point he presented, lightly tapping it with his right index finger as he tried to recall strengths he’d written down before his interview.
Eventually, he ran out of positive things to say about himself that weren’t already written on his resume. Feeling like he hadn’t provided enough he began to pull from his personal life. A horrible mistake as Elliot had never quite learned the definition of oversharing. “Uh, I’m sixteen years old and I have two older brothers and an older sister. I was born in Washington. I spent the last twelve years of my life in foster care and jumping around from school to school. I just started living in Phalanx House a few months ago. When I finish there I think I want to go to MIT and pursue a doctorate in physics, I think.” He wasn't particularly sure what he wanted in his future. It was so far off that he'd given it little thought. For so long his only concern had just been making it to tomorrow. His well of pertinent topics was quickly running dry.
“And, um, I’m strong, really strong.” He did his best to stress the really within his statement. “But only sometimes.” He wasn’t sure how being strong would help in an office setting but it was all he had left that might be useful. Maybe if he had to move a copier? To be fair, he wasn’t sure what was really expected of him.
“Miss Rochester, what exactly would I be doing for you if I get the job? Miss Morgan just said that this would be a good opportunity. "
Josephine steepled her fingers and leaned forward on her elbows, putting on her best business bitch face. The twelve-year-old was going to talk about himself, and she had to listen. Too often, in interviews or meetings, her eyes tended to glaze over, but she wanted to give the kid the benefit of the doubt. It wasn’t his fault he was twelve. His spiel was standard. He was driven, he was good at being on time, he was good at school, he had a flaw that wasn’t really a flaw. All that wasn’t nearly as interesting as his body language, the counting on his fingers, the clearing of his throat before he began. Her senses were sharpened from her other form, her dark eyes narrowing to his micro-movements. He wasn’t doing too badly, all considered. Nervous but that was to be expected; he couldn’t have had many jobs unless he started in diapers. [break][break]
She made a show of nodding and scribbling notes on the copy of his resume that he had handed over. They were just a little doodle of an interesting bird outside, but she was banking on the sugar packets between them would block his view. She made a hand gesture for him to go on, only to stop her doodle mid-way. Her brow raised. Sixteen? Was he actually sixteen? That would at least not qualify them for child labor laws. But that was about all she knew how to process from his next spiel. She had no idea what to do with the fact that he was in foster care, but that definitely explained the ill-fitting suit. Phalanx had never been her corner of the world, but she knew enough that nothing he said surprised her. That didn’t change the fact that, in her heart of hearts, she felt a little tinge of heartache for the poor kid. “MIT, huh? That’s pretty impressive,” she chimed in, trying to chase the last positive thing he said. [break][break]
At first, her confusion was evident across her face, before recognition settled into place. She had requested a kid from Phalanx, who housed people like them. Either way, her interest was piqued. “How strong are we talking, Mr. Davies?” she inquired, dropping her glasses down the bridge of her nose to peer over them. That wasn’t a standard interview question, but curiosity killed the cat. Or, well, the fox. Whatever. She just wanted to know. [break][break]
His question was a good one, an important one, one she had to activate her business-ese brain for. “You would be in charge of most of the clerical tasks I require on a day-to-day basis, like handling materials and some data, typing duties, answering phones, as well as other responsibilities as they come up. As such, you will be present at meetings and in the office setting. We’ve partners who went to MIT and some Ivies, and so you’ll be expected to deal with people like that with professionalism.” It was harder than it seemed. She had to refrain from screaming quite often, but she could hardly see this nervous little kid yelling at Ivy League Chad from Accounting. “Do you think you can handle that?”
