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!
Post by Salome Sage Baptiste on May 8, 2019 3:21:16 GMT
Salome had to get out of the bar. It was too crowded, too jostling, and she wasn’t near high enough to be able to deal with that shit. Even if it wasn’t the people, it was the mini-fucking antennas they carried everywhere in their goddamn pockets. Someone in the throng of people had severely pissed someone off. They had eight missed calls and nearly thirty texts, most of them full of words like “cheating” and “liar” and “bitch.” Eavesdropping – could it be called eavesdropping if she was eaves-reading? – wasn’t her fault. She hadn’t asked for it or the other shit that was streaming throughout the bar. Social media tags, text messages, the television stations that passed by on their way to receivers; they all streamed through her first, as though she were touching a live wire and getting just enough juice to set her teeth on edge. In a way, she was. She was the live wire herself, tapping into everything around her without protection and without thought. It took more out of her to tune it out than it did to tune in, a fact that had always driven her crazier than the signals themselves.
So, after an hour and a number of shots, she gave the fuck up. She had just wanted a night out dancing, something to celebrate evOlvd’s continued success, but everyone had been busy. It certainly wasn’t worth it to be alone in the damn bar and end up with a migraine. She could get one of those by herself, at her house, drinking and smoking shit she had already paid for. But she had no mood for locking herself into her cage to relax, figuratively or literally. There were zones in the city that were quieter than crowded bars and that still offered a change of scenery without locking her away. She hadn’t hung out at the park in a while. She had been elbow deep in code and then elbow deep in everything she could do to wash code out of her head. It already lived in her all the time, and it took too long to wash the hyperfocus out of her after a project.
But it was way more than thirty minutes pasty sundown. The park was definitely closed. Not that she had ever cared about that before. Fuck it. She knew a back way in and had made friends with a lot of the night beat cops from her days as a juvenile delinquent. If it was someone like Bill “Linen Suit” Thompson, all she had to do was promise not to do it again and offer him some of her stash. It was worth it to keep out of jail or worse. On the way, she popped into another bar and got a drink to go, because New Orleans was a glorious and filthy place. She overtipped and made a beeline for the park. It took a bit of security-camera-tampering and a hurdle but she got over to a vacant part of the park, where she had long ago carved out a blindspot. She cheered herself with the Styrofoam cup. She was celebrating her accomplishments, after all. She deserved a cheap drink and a deserted park.