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About Astra D.

  • Birthday 10/23/1990

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    Los Angeles

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  1. Astra snorted with laughter as she tipped the bottle to her lips and took another swig. "Premium dating service? Riiiight. Anyway, yeah, I'm cool with a sort of loose association of people 'in-the-know,' since I've got plenty to deal with already where formal organizations are concerned." She shrugged, her slim shoulders inching upward slightly in a gesture that might've been dismissive or apologetic. "Most will-workers don't throw fireballs or call down lightning, so we've got to fly under the radar as much as possible. It doesn't always work, as you've seen, but we're still waiting on a full report of the incident you were involved in, so." Another shrug, and the raven-haired mage shifted on the chair she'd hauled over, crossing her legs. "I suppose that's one advantage we have, a sort of pre-existing structure and defined purpose, although the bureaucracy involved can reach UN commission levels."
  2. "Hey. Mhhm. Beer Bitch." The sound of crunching accompanied the verbal intrusion on their moment of shared bliss; Astra, the previous object of Ari's ire, leaned against the doorframe, bowl of cocktail peanuts in hand as she snacked. How long had she been standing there? It was an unsettling thought, given how little attention they'd been paying, well, anything. Had they been that loud? "If you're done breakin' in the stallion I plan on takin' home, we're still waitin' on our drinks. Thanks, darlin'," she drawled. Tipping, for good measure, the cowboy hat she'd acquired from some other party-goer, she of the ebon braids and perpetual smirk popped another peanut in her mouth and headed back downstairs.
  3. ,, "I'm not sure you'd call them friends," Astra admitted ruefully, hazel eyes bright with humor as she popped the cap off one of the offered bottles and tipped it at Declan in a gesture of informal gratitude/acknowledgement. "Associates, maybe. As you might be finding, friendships aren't all that common. It's hard to trust someone when the potential for them to fuck you over at the first opportunity is so high." She shrugged, taking an appreciative pull of the cool ale before continuing. "Of course, we- will-workers, that is- aren't the only ones with trust issues, and rightly so. It might be easier somewhere else, where the freaky factor is a little lower, but LA's is off the fucking charts." She shook her head in exasperation and took another drink. "Anyway, yeah, word got around some kids'd been screwing with things they shouldn't have been, and some good samaritans helped one of ours handle it. Or... something like that. Well, when I found out someone was going to be sneaking around in the woods, it sounded more interesting than grinding incense and watching old episodes of 'The Finder' so I headed out, and there you were."
  4. And then, there were three. Astra whistled softly, hazel eyes wide as she slowly shook her head and regarded the two men remaining in the room. ,, "Whooo. That... could've gone better," she breathed. Her mind was working overtime, but given the circumstances, it seemed wiser to keep her lips still. Whether or not the groundskeeper liked it, she knew, the other two had a point in all that tense discussion, even if it probably wasn't the point they'd intended to make. August could probably be a liability, but she seemed enough of a firebrand to stiffen her spine when things got bad- hell, she'd been seeing dead people her whole life, which meant she had some mad coping skills. No, the problem would probably be Declan, and his attachment to the girl, which could easily translate to distraction and tragedy. Still, tempted as she was, she resisted the urge to take a little peek; the attractive young couple might not appreciate the answer. Then, carefully and evenly, "There's no possible way I can eat the rest of this. You guys gonna help? You, I think, have at least worked up an appetite," she added dryly, that faint smile tugging again at the corners of her mouth as she looked at the vargr.
  5. "Hmm. What can you do for me?" the newcomer asked, pursing carmine lips as she canted her head slightly in the classic pose indicating thought and tugged on a stray lock of raven hair. "Honestly, I'd tell you, but I sincerely doubt your lovely companion over there would appreciate it. Unless," she amended with a wicked grin, considering the comely brunette with the fiery temper, "she'd be doing it too." ,, Flustered, and still riding the wave of righteous anger, August was initially too stunned by the blatant flirtation to react with the appropriate level of snark. Her wide turquoise eyes blinked in surprise, moving from Astra's mischievous smirk to her boyfriend, who was busy chewing a mouthful of meaty, cheesy deliciousness. She managed a startled laugh and shook her head, and the black-clad woman's grin widened. ,, "Shame," the mage mused, "but you can't blame a girl for trying. Well, since that's out, I'm honestly not sure. Mostly, I suppose, I'm just curious. L.A.'s something of a hotspot for the weird and terrifying, and it might be easier to keep tabs on things if I know others who are doing the same."
  6. "Hey." The other brunette in the room interjected casually and without rancor, but with just enough volume to carry over the sound of hackles raising and claws unsheathing in what was destined to be yet another fight. She leaned against the doorway, one booted foot crossed idly over the other, and for all the violence and rage and impromptu kitchen remodeling, she seemed utterly nonplussed. "I should probably point out, here, that only one of us can't really function in the human world, since the rest of us have been doing it all our lives. We have to. In fact," she continued, hazel eyes more green than gold as she tilted her head and smiled, earnestly as any here had seen, at August. "As much as I hate to spoil a good tirade- and I've heard some winners tonight, believe me- we can all still do those things. I," she emphasized with a slim hand against her chest, "do them every day. The things that I can do don't make me inhuman. They just mean I'm a little more..." There was a brief pause as the black-clad Acanthus slowly bobbed her head from side to side, considering. "Open-minded. So." ,, Uncrossing her legs, Astra straightened and her expression grew more serious. ,, "Here's the deal, and I hope you don't take this the wrong way, but none of what you just said about driving cars and doing research counts for much. Now, if we were all freaks of nature dripping with swamp ooze and bristling with spikes so we had to hide ourselves away from the world, it might be different, but that's not the case. Admittedly, I don't have a dog in this race-" she blinked, then grinned suddenly and shrugged apologetically at Swara and Declan. "-Since I'm not signing up for anything without a lot more information and a lot more trust than we currently have. But I think what will count for something, and this is just the opinion of a jaded hussy who gets to tinker with reality, is what you're willing to sacrifice to do what you want. You may be touched by the dead, August, but following this path could easily land you among them, or, perhaps, no longer quite human yourself. If you want to help your scruffy stud over there," the mage mused, eyeing Declan in a way that promised mischief if left unattended, "then your worth, and your value, will be defined solely by your choices. Blondie's mostly right, in that there are lots of things she can do that you can't. Everything's got a price, though, and where her gifts prove a burden, it might just be your vanilla self that saves her ass one day because you haven't got silver burning a hole through you and the smell of blood driving you into a frenzy. Those of us who've already made our choices, or been chosen, will never be anything else. Fate's already got our threads pulled taut. But there's nothing wrong with being human. It doesn't make you less. It means your path's not set yet, not while you live, and your potential is Nigh. Fucking. Limitless." ,, She paused to take a breath, smiling faintly. "And, believe me, that's not such a bad place to be."
  7. Largely content to watch the blonde, buxom wrecking ball plow heedlessly through every attempt at constructing something of subtlety or diversion, Astra was forced to concede that, whatever these four were doing, they were probably more a danger to themselves than others. With obvious hesitation, she briefly clasped hands with the alabaster-skinned redhead, and the tiny crinkles of amusement at the corners of her eyes smoothed by degrees. ,, "Astra," she replied, nodding, "though I think we've covered that already." Something of her wry smile remained in the wan light, and she glanced at the argent-eyed groundskeeper again. "Although, to answer your question, if I had brought silver, I wouldn't be standing quite this close, would I? Close enough to see what big eyes you have," the dark-eyed girl added impishly. "If I thought I needed it, I'd be across campus, looking out a seventh-story window through a scope, with my finger just off the trigger." She shrugged, physically dismissing the idea and surveying the others as she took another pull from her flask. "But I didn't bring any, and didn't know until I saw you that it would even be relevant. I didn't even know you'd be here- just that someone would. And someone was, which is just the way things happen with me. Aaaand yes, I'm 'in the know.' As it happens, actually, I think I owe you a 'thanks.' Chatter around the water-cooler is that you handled an issue for us recently, something we intended on keeping in-house."
  8. A single brow, dark as the night around them, arched skyward. ,, "So," Astra began, one hip thrust outward as she took another pull from her flask and studied the foursome. "A neighborhood watch that hunts werewolves, vampires, spirits, and ghosts, or that happens to be werewolves, vampires, spirits and ghosts? It's an important distinction, obviously. Which are you, I wonder?" Her green eyes, nearly black in the dim light, were oblique and neutral as her expression as she looked at each of them. "Shall I tell you?" she asked, flippant insouciance ringing lazily in every syllable that passed those crimson lips. "Cross my palm with silver," the raven-haired beauty offered with unsettling emphasis as she gazed at Declan, "and I will lay bare your Fate." ,, "Or," she shrugged, her grin Cheshire. "You can try to come up with something more interesting than 'neighborhood watch.' Either way, I'm game."
  9. From amongst the shadows of the trees, a lone, female figure approached the four supernaturals, tucking a small hip flask into the back pocket of her well-worn jeans as she came into view. With her dark hair twisted up into a haphazard knot, her fair skin, and red, red lips, the leggy young woman could almost have been mistaken for a night-walker of either sort, though she smelled of neither sex nor death as she strode casually toward them. ,, "Well, well, isn't this a coincidence?" she all but purred into the tense silence, dark eyes roving over the other three before fixing on the vargr. "Declan, wasn't it?" She tilted her head slightly, almost coquettishly, a faint smile tugging at the corner of her carmine mouth. "Long time, no see. If I'd known you were having another party out here, I'd have brought limes."
  10. The distant sound of whistling, lackadaisical and oddly incongruent with both the late-night environs and the unusual nature of their present company, reached their ears before any other sign of a human presence. Faint at first, its source could almost be dismissed as someone out for a midnight stroll, save that it continued growing louder and clearer at a consistently unhurried pace, and from precisely the same bearing. Even more perplexing, and somewhat annoying by virtue of being utterly apropos, was the gradual recognition of the actual melody: "Strangers In The Night." It couldn't possibly have been an intentional choice, of course, but if it was... ,, A brief pause- the scrape of metal- a faint whisper of alcohol on the wind- and the whistling began again. Whoever it was, they'd almost reached the little group, judging by the volume and clarity of the song.
  11. "Well," she replied dryly, a mischievous glint in her eye, "since I don't know most of the rules anyway, we might get to that part sooner, rather than later." Carefully, she drew a card from the shrinking remainder of those still on the table: a 9. "Nine was... rhyme?" she asked uncertainly, moments before she remembered questions were forbidden. "Oh, fuck me," she grumbled, taking a drink from her cup. "No way," the girl with white streaks threaded through her hair (Aradia? she thought she'd heard) crowed gleefully. "You have to take two! Double jeopardy rule!" Pursing her lips, Astra conceded with a grin and took another swallow of her dressed-up rum and coke, enjoying the faint aftertaste of lime. She was beginning to feel a little warm, though whether it was from the alcohol or Declan's proximity, she couldn't say. Either way, it was decidedly not an unpleasant sensation. "Fuck me, it is, then. Let's hear what you guys've got." As if an afterthought, Triessa's request suddenly registered, and she scribbled down her cell phone number on the corner of a napkin as the young Thyrsus handed her a pen.
  12. "Easy, cowboy," she replied, more as a warning to herself than to him, hoping the trembling shiver running through her body didn't quite reach her voice. She'd never been particularly good at resisting temptation, especially when it was so thrillingly packaged, and when every fiber of her being was practically screaming at her to quench the fire he'd stoked in her. "The West wasn't tamed in a single shot." As she slowly rose, the Vargr leisurely followed suit, her breath pleasantly warm against his neck. She could see the others at the table over his shoulder, continuing the game, but this close, she was all but drowning in the faintly woodsy, distinctively male scent of him. Her cheek brushed his as he shifted to let her get up, and she bit down hard on the urge to follow the faint, rasping line of stubble on his jaw with her lips. "Game's still on," she smiled at him somewhat hazily, nearly dizzy with desire. It was only sheer willpower that got her off the table, driven by her purpose for even coming to this party: to make sure no one else was preyed upon by the things that went bump in the night.
  13. The rote introductions almost made her laugh, as if their path and order were the sum total of their identities. It was like some bizarre AA meeting, though she supposed it couldn't be helped. Hi, I'm Astra, and I'm a mage. Hi, Astra! "I think it's a little early to be thinking about creating a new Consilium," Astra added, an undercurrent of dry amusement in her tone as she nodded at Triessa in agreement. "I'm going to go ahead and assume, given what I've heard, that even as a group we're not strong enough to hold on to whatever we'd try to make or grasp. Even if we somehow managed to forge one together, we don't have the pull or the power, mundane or otherwise, to keep it. Or," she amended after a sip from a weathered travel coffee mug, "to keep it together. May-" She faltered for the briefest of moments. "My mentor never said there wasn't one here already, but I got the impression it would probably take some digging to find them. LA's pretty crazy. And, yes," she continued gravely, nodding at Randy, "there are Banishers working their way into the area. Worse, they're apparently starting to organize. That's one of the reasons I'm here on campus." She let that sink in for a moment, her eyes roving over the faces of the assembled will-workers and remembering the distinct sensation of active magic at the party, the feeling she hadn't been able to place. Now, she knew why. "I'm Astra, by the way. Acanthus, Arrow. Apparently Fate enjoys alliteration," she finished with a grin that might have been rueful if it weren't quite so grim.
  14. "I'm not nervous," Astra muttered, exhaling a fragrant plume of clove-scented smoke as she stamped out the remnants of her cigarette. It left a black smudge beneath her heel, but amid the multitude of other marks on the sidewalk, that small trace of her passing was almost invisible. "Just cautious." The knife in her boot echoed the sentiment with its reassuring solidity, and she knew the protection of Fate was woven invisibly around her through the aether. It wasn't exactly a bullet-proof vest, but sometimes being that much luckier than your opponent was all it took. Triessa seemed sincere enough, and it was hard not to catch her enthusiasm, but Astra's hope was tempered by years of wariness; she gave the parking lot one last, slow scan before heading inside the student union building. She hesitated outside the door to the meeting room, listening to the rise and fall of voices as, she assumed, people introduced themselves. Obviously, not everyone was a Banisher in disguise, but there was something about the prospect of openly identifying herself to a group of strangers that left her feeling uncomfortably exposed. Perhaps it was that half-conscious anxiety which had her dressed in black. In truth, she resembled a Moros more than her own Path, with black boots and jeans and a matching turtleneck, and her dark hair pulled back into a sleek chignon. Only the golden hoop in her ear, and its tiny green feathers, provided a visual break from the grim monochrome of her clothing. Shifting the strap of the messenger bag she carried cross-body, she exhaled and turned the knob, wondering what the cards held in store for the evening.
  15. It was amazing how quickly a bunch of college-kids could get completely plastered, and how eagerly. It was also amazing that they were so occupied with their own pursuit of inebriation, she'd managed to completely avoid having drawn a card, or taken more than a few exaggerated sips of her drink. Astra actually envied them that, a little, but since joining the Arrow, she'd been more focused on the purpose she'd been given than enjoying life. She wasn't a real college student, any more than the big-boobed athlete chick was probably a real blonde, but she wanted to be. She wanted to kick back, laugh, and let herself get completely hammered listening to dub-step in somebody else's McMansion. Could she really stay objective if she never let her guard down? Would she be able to honestly look after the people on campus if she didn't know them? A tiny voice in the back of her mind called her a coward; how could she help them if she never got close? Getting close meant someone else could... would get hurt. Desire warred with obligation, and she tugged at one of her dark braids thoughtfully, curling the ends around her finger. Maybe, if it was just for a short time, like an experiment, it would be all right. Right? And if it didn't work, or went too far, or she didn't like it, she only had to go back, to remember... The idea appealed to something fey buried deep inside the young enchantress, and with the speed of thought, it was done. She might as well have sealed an oath with herself. Before she could change her mind, she pushed all thought to the periphery and stood up. "Be right back," she smiled boldly at the silver-eyed man who was still waiting for her to decide on his penalty drink. He looked like he was up for a challenge, and she wasn't yet drunk enough to be desperate for company, but it might be fun to see how far he'd go. The kitchen was a wreck of cups, bottles, and half-eaten plates of snacks, but it didn't take long to find the basic ingredients. Somewhat impatiently, she cleared the bowls of chips and other assorted detritus from one of the buffet tables; at least, she cleared it enough to give herself some room. This was supposed to be a normal college-party occurrence, and the prospect was, admittedly, enticing. She took one last, long drink from her cup before returning to the table. "You won't need a glass," she grinned, a hint of suggestiveness in her voice as she tugged her tank top upwards slightly, revealing the small indentation of her navel and a pleasantly smooth (and surprisingly tattoo-free) midriff. Armed with a shot glass filled with vodka, a packet of sugar, and a wedge of lemon, she beckoned Declan over to the mostly-cleared snack table. "I'm guessing you've had a lemon drop before," Astra said conversationally as she bounced slightly, hopping into a seated position on the edge of the table. "Like the candy." "Mm-hmm." Her smile was slow, the tilt of her head simultaneously curious and appraising as she looked him over. There was definitely something interesting about him, she decided, and not solely because she was practically vibrating on a cellular level at the prospect of his mouth being on her skin. It was almost like a scent she couldn't quite identify, more noticeable a little farther away from the cluster of people but still indefinable over the smells of alcohol and party food. Whatever it was, if Axe could bottle it, the men of the world would be drowning in girls. Che sera, sera, she quipped mentally, and swung herself around, reclining on the table. She bit her lip in concentration, leaning up on one elbow to sprinkle a thin line of sugar up one side of her abdomen. The vodka was somewhat trickier, and more than once it overflowed her navel to pool in the little hollow around it. (The hardest part was not laughing and being forced to start over.) Maybe Fate had been screwing with her all this time, and maybe it was waiting on her to do something about it. Wrapping one arm under her breasts to squeeze them together, Astra wedged the slice of lemon between them and looked up at Declan expectantly. "You can take the other shot first, if you want," she added, glancing at the whiskey in his hand.
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