Group 3: Do Not Feed the Sexpires

Aug 22, 2011 15:08

Characters: Sam Winchester, Kyoko Sakura, Rarity, Missile, Fleur Delacour
Time: After the Bean meeting
Location: The Gold Coast
Content: A hunter, a kid witch, a pony, a Veela, and an adorable Pom attempt to convince Lara Raith to help them defeat Morgan le Fay. Hilarity ensues.
Format: Poster’s choice
Warnings: No tag order.

Especially after midnight )

[character] kyoko sakura, [character] sam winchester, [character] missile, [character] fleur delacour, [character] rarity, endgame

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Comments 34

eatdancekill August 22 2011, 20:46:48 UTC

... )

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huntingmemory August 22 2011, 22:56:44 UTC
Sam didn't have powers. Well, not anymore. So the fact that they were in Chicago and the power fluctuations had stopped didn't bother him.

But when someone suggested that they should go speak to Lara Raith, he volunteered. The Raiths had trouble getting to him, so he was a good choice to go meet her. At least he could be certain of keeping control of his dick.

"I guess we should go see if anybody's home."

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pomergeist August 22 2011, 23:28:44 UTC
Missile had been all too ready to join in on this. He had gathered that the people they were going to visit weren't very nice, but... but there were people in trouble, and he had agreed to get their help, and how could they even say no? Apparently there was reasons to be scared of these guys, but from what little the dog understood of explanations he really didn't have much to be worried about at all.

Having hitched a ride on the core of the pink girl's box of snacks, Missile gave an eager yap. "Hold on, let me check!" In a matter of seconds, the spirit had hopped its way through the gardens and door of the hotel, gotten a quick look, and made his return before he could be missed. "Oh yeah, there's totally people there! I think they might be expecting us, too."

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secondcity_npc August 22 2011, 23:46:43 UTC
The grounds around Chateau Raith were as well manicured and eerily silent as ever, though as the group approached, a pair of wrought iron gates swung open, silent on well-oiled hinges, offering a passage through sculpted wood on a meandering, cobblestone drive.

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