NAVIGATION
Dec. 21st, 2023 10:04 pm
♞ AC THREADS ♛ APPLICATION ♞ HMD ♛ PERMISSIONS ♞ IC INBOX
♞ AC THREADS ♛ APPLICATION ♞ HMD ♛ PERMISSIONS ♞ IC INBOX
(no subject)
Oct. 12th, 2023 01:18 pmUser Name/Nick: vil
E-mail/Plurk/Discord/PM to a character journal/alternate method of contact: justghosts @ plurk
Other Characters Currently In-Game: Paul 'Jesus' Rovia
Character Name: Lark Tennant
Series: Sharp Teeth
Age: 50
From When?: Postcanon. He's graduated from the Barge and married Alec McDowell, he runs a successful law firm in Los Angeles and a large wolf pack steadily working up the political ranks.
Warden Justification: Lark has helped multiple inmates graduate already. He has been an inmate himself, so he knows the ways they feel helpless. He's built a pack out of people who were broken and discarded by society, so he has empathy for outsiders. He builds pack, builds family, wherever he goes.
He has a strong moral code he calls the Ukan Path which teaches its practitioners to channel abstinence (from sex, drugs, anything that a person could depend on) into power, which teaches a deep self-reliance. While he won't push this philosophy on anyone (not even his own pack), he does encourage all his inmates to develop their own moral code and their own sense of honor to guide them as they go back to their lives post-Barge.
Item: His leather jacket
Abilities/Powers: Lark is a lycanthrope. He is able to turn into a large wolf (one that resembles a German Shepherd-wolf mix more than an actual wolf). He is able to turn other people into lycanthropes as well, by sharing blood. Rather than bite, he tends to cut his palm, cut their hand, and share that way.
He has the requisite heightened senses (smell, hearing, intuition). He has training in self-defense, but he is most lethal in his wolf form. His strength as a human is proportionate to the strength of a wolf but he is very mortal and vulnerable. He has no defense at all against telekinesis, telepathy, fire, etc. etc. He is basically just a very smart man who can turn into a strong, mean dog.
Wardening Strategies and Philosophies: He presents a loyal backing to his inmates, who nevertheless holds them to a standard. He expects them to come up with their own moral code and to live up to it no matter what. He offers his own as a template while they work out what matters most to them.
He is also invested in community. He wants the Barge to work together as a pack, while knowing no group of humans will ever be as seamless as a wolf pack. He will reach out to fellow wardens and their inmates, offering himself as an advocate when he's not paired. He's probably a best fit for those who have never had a place to belong before.
Deal: Immortality
History: Lark, like all present-day lycanthropes, began life as a human. He grew up and went to law school. He had a gift for argument and coercion, and was considered almost 'too bright' at the first law firm he worked at. Despite his talent, the job left him feeling empty and lost. He spent the nights drinking, waking up to hollow victories, and filling himself with more liquor.
His life might have gone on that way forever is his best friend hadn't wrapped his car around a pole one night. Lark spent the night at the hospital with him, and woke up facing a stranger. The man was there with him when the doctors announced Lark's friend had died; it was the first time Lark had sobbed in years, and it brought a part of him back up out of the emptiness.
The man brought Lark into the pack a few days later, and Lark spent the following years mapping a future for himself: the Ukan path, and his own group to lead. Lark was finally happy until the night one of his own dogs he had sent to spy on another pack turned on him.
Most of his pack was murdered. He tucked away the three remaining survivors and hid himself in the Pasadena dog shelter to wait. (He picked Pasadena because there was no policy there that would have ended with Lark being neutered; he may be celibate but he is attached to some things). And eventually, Bonnie came, nervously drumming her fingers and looking for a big dog to protect her. When she saw Lark, she named him Buddy.
Lark went home with her, intending to spend a week hiding out and planning and then move on. But a week dragged into two, then three, then six as he enjoyed sleeping at the foot of her bed and letting her rub his fur while they watched tv....
When he finally begins to pull himself back together, it's bad news for Bonnie. Lark starts using her car while she sleeps, borrowing pencils to scribble ideas, using the phone, eating the yogurt. Of course, to Bonnie (who lives alone) it all makes her feel as if she's losing her mind. A half-tank of gas gone overnight! The furniture rearranged, food gone. And so she finally checks herself in to a therapeutic retreat and drops 'Buddy' off at her sister's. That night, he makes his escape.
Sample Network Entry: See below
Sample RP: TDM thread
E-mail/Plurk/Discord/PM to a character journal/alternate method of contact: justghosts @ plurk
Other Characters Currently In-Game: Paul 'Jesus' Rovia
Character Name: Lark Tennant
Series: Sharp Teeth
Age: 50
From When?: Postcanon. He's graduated from the Barge and married Alec McDowell, he runs a successful law firm in Los Angeles and a large wolf pack steadily working up the political ranks.
Warden Justification: Lark has helped multiple inmates graduate already. He has been an inmate himself, so he knows the ways they feel helpless. He's built a pack out of people who were broken and discarded by society, so he has empathy for outsiders. He builds pack, builds family, wherever he goes.
He has a strong moral code he calls the Ukan Path which teaches its practitioners to channel abstinence (from sex, drugs, anything that a person could depend on) into power, which teaches a deep self-reliance. While he won't push this philosophy on anyone (not even his own pack), he does encourage all his inmates to develop their own moral code and their own sense of honor to guide them as they go back to their lives post-Barge.
Item: His leather jacket
Abilities/Powers: Lark is a lycanthrope. He is able to turn into a large wolf (one that resembles a German Shepherd-wolf mix more than an actual wolf). He is able to turn other people into lycanthropes as well, by sharing blood. Rather than bite, he tends to cut his palm, cut their hand, and share that way.
He has the requisite heightened senses (smell, hearing, intuition). He has training in self-defense, but he is most lethal in his wolf form. His strength as a human is proportionate to the strength of a wolf but he is very mortal and vulnerable. He has no defense at all against telekinesis, telepathy, fire, etc. etc. He is basically just a very smart man who can turn into a strong, mean dog.
Wardening Strategies and Philosophies: He presents a loyal backing to his inmates, who nevertheless holds them to a standard. He expects them to come up with their own moral code and to live up to it no matter what. He offers his own as a template while they work out what matters most to them.
He is also invested in community. He wants the Barge to work together as a pack, while knowing no group of humans will ever be as seamless as a wolf pack. He will reach out to fellow wardens and their inmates, offering himself as an advocate when he's not paired. He's probably a best fit for those who have never had a place to belong before.
Deal: Immortality
History: Lark, like all present-day lycanthropes, began life as a human. He grew up and went to law school. He had a gift for argument and coercion, and was considered almost 'too bright' at the first law firm he worked at. Despite his talent, the job left him feeling empty and lost. He spent the nights drinking, waking up to hollow victories, and filling himself with more liquor.
His life might have gone on that way forever is his best friend hadn't wrapped his car around a pole one night. Lark spent the night at the hospital with him, and woke up facing a stranger. The man was there with him when the doctors announced Lark's friend had died; it was the first time Lark had sobbed in years, and it brought a part of him back up out of the emptiness.
The man brought Lark into the pack a few days later, and Lark spent the following years mapping a future for himself: the Ukan path, and his own group to lead. Lark was finally happy until the night one of his own dogs he had sent to spy on another pack turned on him.
Most of his pack was murdered. He tucked away the three remaining survivors and hid himself in the Pasadena dog shelter to wait. (He picked Pasadena because there was no policy there that would have ended with Lark being neutered; he may be celibate but he is attached to some things). And eventually, Bonnie came, nervously drumming her fingers and looking for a big dog to protect her. When she saw Lark, she named him Buddy.
Lark went home with her, intending to spend a week hiding out and planning and then move on. But a week dragged into two, then three, then six as he enjoyed sleeping at the foot of her bed and letting her rub his fur while they watched tv....
When he finally begins to pull himself back together, it's bad news for Bonnie. Lark starts using her car while she sleeps, borrowing pencils to scribble ideas, using the phone, eating the yogurt. Of course, to Bonnie (who lives alone) it all makes her feel as if she's losing her mind. A half-tank of gas gone overnight! The furniture rearranged, food gone. And so she finally checks herself in to a therapeutic retreat and drops 'Buddy' off at her sister's. That night, he makes his escape.
Sample Network Entry: See below
Sample RP: TDM thread
HMD / Plotting
Nov. 21st, 2020 06:02 pmthere's only the ever constant
law of evolution
Become what is or you will be what is not.
Comment here with questions, concerns, ideas, etc.
[One day, a lock box appears in one of the common areas. Dear Abby is written on the side, along with instructions:
Deposit your concerns, share what ails you, and Abby will advise.
For your privacy, the acceptable format for your letter is as follows:
Dear Abby,
I have a concern.
Signed, Concerned Writer
(Your name should always be a one or two word summary of your concern.)]
Lark is, at most, an inch taller and a few years older than Barron. When Lark enters a room, the wolves there sit up as men, or flatten themselves down a little as wolves. When Barron walks in, most of the time with a smirk on his lips, they grin but they give him space.
One day Barron interrupts training. He calls the dogs in from fifty miles away, he breaks up sparring, he stops them as they assemble weapons. The only wolf not present is Lark.
The pack knows this routine well. Their eyes don't stray and they wait, they wait, while Barron draws the anticipation out as far as he can.
"We're learning a new game!" Baron finally says. His grin implies blood and sets the pack shifting on their feet, murmuring in small, excited noises.
But that's when Baron throws down a deck of cards and lets them stare at it a moment.
"Lark got me up at 2 this morning to learn this game, and now you're all going to master it." Aside from when the cards first landed, there's no confusion. No sideways looks. No questions.
Baron gives them the basics. The game they're playing is Bridge. Yes, like the old ladies play. Like the rich old ladies play. Baron doesn't pull away until the boys are focused on their individual matches.
He finds Lark in the office at the back of the house. Lark is relaxed, like he could be writing in his journal. Probably, though, he's drafting plans for the deaths of people Baron has never even met.
They hear Cutter cheering and Lark looks up again from his computer. Baron shrugs; that cheer is the update he was here to bring. Things are going fine.
Lark smiles and it's warm, it's real approval, and it makes Barron bite back a boyish grin.
Lark gets up and indicates silently that they're going out, away from the pack's ears. They walk for miles in the kind of silence two long-time companions develop, but when Lark stops them and breaks the quiet, his voice is all business.
"There's another pack." Baron stiffens at the news, instinctively ready right then to tear them all apart. "They operate by the docks, but they're pushing this way."
Lark has so much confidence in his voice. It's why the pups never doubt him. Baron doesn't doubt him because he's seen what Lark can do. There's a mingling of admiration and wariness every time he looks at his leader.
"They don't know about us. So I'm sending you in."
It's hard to say if what Baron is feeling is more fear or more excitement, but Lark waits the two seconds it takes for Baron to contain himself.
"Okay. When?"
Lark nods past him to the parking lot across the street. To the sole car there. Lark's cars are all sleek, black, new. This car is rusted and white and a decade or more.
"I left an address in the glove box. It's to the apartment where you'll stay until the other pack takes you in." There's no doubt that Baron will infiltrate them and it makes him straighten, makes him nod. "Two weeks, and I'll check in."
As Baron is walking to the car, Lark says--quietly, because they don't need to shout--simply, "Have fun. Stay sharp."
One day Barron interrupts training. He calls the dogs in from fifty miles away, he breaks up sparring, he stops them as they assemble weapons. The only wolf not present is Lark.
The pack knows this routine well. Their eyes don't stray and they wait, they wait, while Barron draws the anticipation out as far as he can.
"We're learning a new game!" Baron finally says. His grin implies blood and sets the pack shifting on their feet, murmuring in small, excited noises.
But that's when Baron throws down a deck of cards and lets them stare at it a moment.
"Lark got me up at 2 this morning to learn this game, and now you're all going to master it." Aside from when the cards first landed, there's no confusion. No sideways looks. No questions.
Baron gives them the basics. The game they're playing is Bridge. Yes, like the old ladies play. Like the rich old ladies play. Baron doesn't pull away until the boys are focused on their individual matches.
He finds Lark in the office at the back of the house. Lark is relaxed, like he could be writing in his journal. Probably, though, he's drafting plans for the deaths of people Baron has never even met.
They hear Cutter cheering and Lark looks up again from his computer. Baron shrugs; that cheer is the update he was here to bring. Things are going fine.
Lark smiles and it's warm, it's real approval, and it makes Barron bite back a boyish grin.
Lark gets up and indicates silently that they're going out, away from the pack's ears. They walk for miles in the kind of silence two long-time companions develop, but when Lark stops them and breaks the quiet, his voice is all business.
"There's another pack." Baron stiffens at the news, instinctively ready right then to tear them all apart. "They operate by the docks, but they're pushing this way."
Lark has so much confidence in his voice. It's why the pups never doubt him. Baron doesn't doubt him because he's seen what Lark can do. There's a mingling of admiration and wariness every time he looks at his leader.
"They don't know about us. So I'm sending you in."
It's hard to say if what Baron is feeling is more fear or more excitement, but Lark waits the two seconds it takes for Baron to contain himself.
"Okay. When?"
Lark nods past him to the parking lot across the street. To the sole car there. Lark's cars are all sleek, black, new. This car is rusted and white and a decade or more.
"I left an address in the glove box. It's to the apartment where you'll stay until the other pack takes you in." There's no doubt that Baron will infiltrate them and it makes him straighten, makes him nod. "Two weeks, and I'll check in."
As Baron is walking to the car, Lark says--quietly, because they don't need to shout--simply, "Have fun. Stay sharp."
Memory Drabbles
Feb. 7th, 2016 09:19 pmRUTHLESS
Con is as tall as Lark, but built of more muscle, and he's a little younger. He smiles easily, and he's young enough to let in light to every room he enters with the sheer strength of his optimism. The rest of the pack is made up of lawyers closer to Lark's age, or soldiers just back from the war; Con is untouched by the tedium and compromise of the legal system, or the utter hell of fighting for richer, lazier men.
Given a few years though, and a little experience that Lark could generate for him, Con would be one hell of a leader. Despite his innocence, the pack loves him already. So here, now, in Lark's pack, Con is a threat. There are plans that he trips over because he doesn't listen when Lark pushes him away. There are secrets he could expose, and thereby endanger Lark and the rest of the pack.
What Lark does is draw him closer. He teaches him the principles of war, which govern everything as surely as any law of physics. And when Con understands them, when he picks them up just as quickly and naturally as Lark suspected he would, Lark begins to break these principles in small but glaring ways.
What he needs is for Con to believe the pack would be safer under his hand rather than Lark's. It only takes a month. That's how fast a young man can go from mere recruit to thinking he can take whatever he wants if he can justify it with selflessness.
Lark was challenged
that night there was no moon.
The pack had seen and felt it
coming and building.
Lark was a man when it started,
wolf when it ended.
Con tried to cut him with a knife
coming in through the front door
but with perfect liquid grace,
Lark slipped past the weapon's edge
grabbed Con's hand and bent it back.
The blade flew through the Ruscha.
Teeth gleamed bare and sharp...
Con was a man when it started,
he wasn't much by the time it was done.
...
Lark has to have his pack tight.
Poor fucking Con, he was strong and he was proud,
Lark liked him fine but the pack is stronger now,
they're solid.
"Thank you, Con," he thinks to himself
as he puts on cuff links, straightens his tie.
Con is as tall as Lark, but built of more muscle, and he's a little younger. He smiles easily, and he's young enough to let in light to every room he enters with the sheer strength of his optimism. The rest of the pack is made up of lawyers closer to Lark's age, or soldiers just back from the war; Con is untouched by the tedium and compromise of the legal system, or the utter hell of fighting for richer, lazier men.
Given a few years though, and a little experience that Lark could generate for him, Con would be one hell of a leader. Despite his innocence, the pack loves him already. So here, now, in Lark's pack, Con is a threat. There are plans that he trips over because he doesn't listen when Lark pushes him away. There are secrets he could expose, and thereby endanger Lark and the rest of the pack.
What Lark does is draw him closer. He teaches him the principles of war, which govern everything as surely as any law of physics. And when Con understands them, when he picks them up just as quickly and naturally as Lark suspected he would, Lark begins to break these principles in small but glaring ways.
What he needs is for Con to believe the pack would be safer under his hand rather than Lark's. It only takes a month. That's how fast a young man can go from mere recruit to thinking he can take whatever he wants if he can justify it with selflessness.
Lark was challenged
that night there was no moon.
The pack had seen and felt it
coming and building.
Lark was a man when it started,
wolf when it ended.
Con tried to cut him with a knife
coming in through the front door
but with perfect liquid grace,
Lark slipped past the weapon's edge
grabbed Con's hand and bent it back.
The blade flew through the Ruscha.
Teeth gleamed bare and sharp...
Con was a man when it started,
he wasn't much by the time it was done.
...
Lark has to have his pack tight.
Poor fucking Con, he was strong and he was proud,
Lark liked him fine but the pack is stronger now,
they're solid.
"Thank you, Con," he thinks to himself
as he puts on cuff links, straightens his tie.
spam; the last journal post
Jun. 28th, 2015 02:37 pm[Getting on board was a moment of chaos. He remembers turning a corner, expecting to find fur and blood in his mouth, expecting maybe to get torn up in return, expecting maybe a bullet from above to take him down, too-
But instead he's somewhere metal, somewhere that smells of strangers and strangeness, and he's bleeding a trail but he runs for safety anyway. If there is any. If there are doors, anywhere, that he can open without changing back, because this has to be the FBI's work and so long as they think he's just a wolf, maybe they won't slit him open and poke around inside.]
[ooc: Lark is a wolf, for now. He'll have to change back sooner or later even if he doesn't want to, so feel free to tag him as human or wolf, just lemme know which.]
But instead he's somewhere metal, somewhere that smells of strangers and strangeness, and he's bleeding a trail but he runs for safety anyway. If there is any. If there are doors, anywhere, that he can open without changing back, because this has to be the FBI's work and so long as they think he's just a wolf, maybe they won't slit him open and poke around inside.]
[ooc: Lark is a wolf, for now. He'll have to change back sooner or later even if he doesn't want to, so feel free to tag him as human or wolf, just lemme know which.]
[The first thing Lark does is follow his nose. He gets himself some food, enough to clear his mind, and then finds a quiet corner up on the deck where he can watch the universe drift by. He watches the network first, making cursory judgments of the people there. And then he turns the camera on himself.
He's not sure any of this is real, but it's always safest to pretend it is. If it's real to these people, it needs to be real to him.]
Monarchism depth doubtfully entrancing.
[He closes his eyes, no. Not right. Slow breath in: who am I?]
Sorry. My name is Lark. I've already introduced myself to the cafeteria, [he holds up his clean spoon] You eat pretty well here. Better than I've had in other cages. I can tell what most of the things on my plate were originally. In a place like this, in times like these, that's a blessing.
[Now the question. Time to find out the important things. He should have waited, but he doesn't have time to spare.
Who am I? Lark. Where am I? That, as Shakespeare said, is the question.]
I'm still monkey lid drudging cloud?
He's not sure any of this is real, but it's always safest to pretend it is. If it's real to these people, it needs to be real to him.]
Monarchism depth doubtfully entrancing.
[He closes his eyes, no. Not right. Slow breath in: who am I?]
Sorry. My name is Lark. I've already introduced myself to the cafeteria, [he holds up his clean spoon] You eat pretty well here. Better than I've had in other cages. I can tell what most of the things on my plate were originally. In a place like this, in times like these, that's a blessing.
[Now the question. Time to find out the important things. He should have waited, but he doesn't have time to spare.
Who am I? Lark. Where am I? That, as Shakespeare said, is the question.]
I'm still monkey lid drudging cloud?
(no subject)
Dec. 29th, 1999 07:27 pmSandoval's son is a junior in a prestigious school, the best money and influence can manage in this world. Lark is used to these places; he knows how to talk his way in, how to pass himself off as a recruiter, how to shake Grant Sandoval's soft hand.
How to then get the kid's address.
Alec had said he thought any security might just shoot him on sight as a wolf, but he risks it. He changes forms and moves through the old pines in this nicer area of the city. He sits and he listens to Sandoval's wife and much younger, so far unmentioned, son.
He thinks of Alec sweating on the chair, swearing allegiance to a man who only sees a number. He thinks of Alec's hands shaking. He thinks of the last time he saw Alec endure this, how Lark hadn't known but had caused it. How Lark could have acted. Could have done anything at all.
How Alec somehow, despite never being handed a real second chance himself, decided to let Lark try again. How this mission might be the thing that destroys his husband's mind.
Alec isn't in the chair right now. That's the only thing that gives Lark patience.
But after the sun is down the younger son goes outside to get something--air, a ball, something--Lark moves through the dark and he kills the child so quietly the mother never suspects. He hides the body where he knows it will be found, but not soon. Not easily. The body will have time to decay, other animals will have a chance to feast on it before the Sandovals see it.
Lark turns human and puts on his clothes and he drives back to the bad side of town. He buys food for himself and Logan, and buys liquor to rinse his mouth out. Oral hygiene isn't a priority around here, so needs must, but he spits out the mouthful and the blood that had been between his teeth, and he heads inside.
How to then get the kid's address.
Alec had said he thought any security might just shoot him on sight as a wolf, but he risks it. He changes forms and moves through the old pines in this nicer area of the city. He sits and he listens to Sandoval's wife and much younger, so far unmentioned, son.
He thinks of Alec sweating on the chair, swearing allegiance to a man who only sees a number. He thinks of Alec's hands shaking. He thinks of the last time he saw Alec endure this, how Lark hadn't known but had caused it. How Lark could have acted. Could have done anything at all.
How Alec somehow, despite never being handed a real second chance himself, decided to let Lark try again. How this mission might be the thing that destroys his husband's mind.
Alec isn't in the chair right now. That's the only thing that gives Lark patience.
But after the sun is down the younger son goes outside to get something--air, a ball, something--Lark moves through the dark and he kills the child so quietly the mother never suspects. He hides the body where he knows it will be found, but not soon. Not easily. The body will have time to decay, other animals will have a chance to feast on it before the Sandovals see it.
Lark turns human and puts on his clothes and he drives back to the bad side of town. He buys food for himself and Logan, and buys liquor to rinse his mouth out. Oral hygiene isn't a priority around here, so needs must, but he spits out the mouthful and the blood that had been between his teeth, and he heads inside.
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