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Darkseeker
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Name: Louis DiNome Age: 26 Gender: Male Sexuality: Anyone pretty Occupation: Fixer Personality: If you met Lou for a night, you’d meet him as the guy who’s everyone’s friend. If you knew him for a week, you might know him as the thrill-seeking maniac who collects people he finds interesting or beautiful. A year along, you might finally have the most complete version of him; a sensitive, temperamental, self-serving bastard of a mafioso who, for as much as he values loyalty, is primarily loyal to himself. Born squarely in the middle of a large cohort of children, he’s both resourceful and cunning, traits that are useful to the family he works for, and having been raised by two parents likewise in the family, he doesn’t shy away from violence. Really, though, he’s in it for the experience; as much as he’s willing to fix a problem, or clean up a mess, or otherwise swat whatever fly his Don needs swatted, he’s far more drawn to the cars, the booze, and the beautiful faces that are attracted by the lifestyle. With a penchant for making bad decisions in his personable life, he’s only somewhat dependable, unless you have a literal or proverbial gun to his head, in which case he turns into the perfect soldier. Don’t be fooled by his silver tongue either; Lou has never in his life done a single thing without cause, and often the cause is often his own benefit, not that of those around him. In spite of the selfish nature of the man, he also loves his (literal) family with an almost religious fervor, and has a sweet streak that he hides quite well. Appearance: He likes to call himself handsome, but interesting is a far more correct descriptor. Just slightly above average in height, carrying far above the average amount of that in his legs, he has a sleek, almost feminine build that makes him seem far less muscular than he is. His facial features are, individually, all handsome- downturned, honey-brown eyes, thick eyelashes, strong nose, full lips- and yet, he is almost disconcerting to look at. He holds eye contact far too long and rarely blinks, as if he’s fully enraptured by whatever he’s looking at, and his mouth is perpetually upturned into a slight smirk, like he’s making a joke you’re not in on. He keeps his oil-spill dark hair cropped close, just barely longer than a buzzcut, too short to grab onto and easily maintained, and wears no facial hair at all, both of which make him stand out in his crowd. He does dress well though; most often in fairly nondescript, well fitting clothes, although he’s occasionally given to a tailored suit. He’s not a gaudy dresser at all- on the rare occasion he dresses as such, it only adds to the deeply disconcerting air about him, so the only ornamentation he wears is the ubiquitous signet ring. His is gold, set with a sapphire. |
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Neutral
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Name: Stella Viscuso Age: 24 Gender: Female Sexuality: Straight Occupation: Spy, Theif - Appearance: Stella would be considered quite a looker, with an hourglass figure and a delicate, pretty face. She's shorter than most women, standing somewhere around 5'3" with her body being slim and proportionate. Shes not very muscular, though she has no need to be. After all, most of her dirty work is done on the fly. Her features are simple enough, with wide, doe like eyes that are a bright hazel color, appearing more green that brown with long, dark lashes. She has a slender nose that is slightly upturned and plump lips that are almost always pouty. Hardly ever does she truly smile, giving her a rather cold disposition until she warms up to you. Shes often forced to act, to smile and look pretty to get beneath the skin of those she's either spying on or stealing from. Her chocolate brown hair is kept long and feminine, ending at her waist in loose curls. It is silky and thick, soft to the touch, though she's quite hard headed, making pulling her hair a useless technique against her. Stella is nearly always dressed to the nines, adorning fitted cocktail dresses or something short to keep the focus on her legs rather than her hands. She often has to wear heels, but she's not afraid to shed them should she need to run. She doesn't wear much jewelry other than her signet ring, which is a rose gold color set with a small, delicate ruby. Personality: Anyone who knows Stella knows that she's a stubborn, foul mouthed woman who prefers to keep to herself with a handsome face and a drink. It doesn't change much the more you get to know her, she only becomes more friendly and a bit protective of those she's let into her circle. Say you get further than a few months of knowing her, and then you will see the real her. The loving, fiery woman who does nothing but care for those around her. Family means everything considering she never had one before the mafia. She'd do anything for the family she works for, going to whatever lengths she can to meet their needs. While she's generally kept away from violence, she's not afraid to get her hands a little dirty. Stella is a sneaky, light footed person who can bat her lashes and get damn near whatever she pleases. She's flirtatious and teasing, enjoying getting a rise out of men and women alike, though her sexual interests lie only with men. She's not a stranger to luring people into her traps through seduction, but when her heart has truly been won you'll know it. She'd fight tooth and nail for you and would give you more attention and protection that one could ever bargain for. She's jealous and loyal, never straying from the person she's declared as hers. |
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Darkseeker
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Louis DiNome lives for nights like this. It's cool for late August, thanks to the midmorning rain that pounded away at the city for hours, and everyone on the street seems beautiful and strange. He's just emerged from Last Stop, which is ostensibly just a lounge, but also serves fairly good liquor if you're wearing the right jewelery. A stranger might peg him as well sauced, but he's actually sober, despite the high flush on his face. Several moments later, a veritable gaggle of men emerges from Last Stop after him, organized in a loose circle around a well-dressed man. Louis does not look back for them, although it would probably be the respectful thing to do, but he does somewhat conspicuously tap the ring on his left pinky to his lower lip; a move that's slightly disrespectful, but one he'll get away with. He has a job tonight, and there's nothing Louis loves more than a job. The only downside is the waiting; and it seems like there will be quite a bit of it tonight. He's been instructed to wander the streets and wait for the contact to meet him, which is unfortunate at best, not least because Lou prides himself on knowing everyone worth knowing. He hates meeting new people, hates proof that he's not the center of the universe. He knows there must be a significant amount of money involved for his Don to come to him, several neighborhoods away, but he didn't bother asking how much, and the intruige is part of the draw. He also knows he'll have to pull some strings before the week is out; that it's very likely some money will need to be cleaned. For now, he heads East, whistling jauntily as he goes, adding to the faux-inebriated effect. Discreetly, he scans the street for anyone wearing anything identifiable, anything worth stealing, anything to occupy his busy mind as he settles into his waiting. |
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Neutral
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Stella had always been a fan of nighttime meetings. No one ever paid too much attention to her, and the chill in the air gave her an electrified feeling. She walked the streets quietly with pride, going in and out of various lounges and convenience stores. Each time she returned outside her leather handbag appeared just a bit fatter than before, a testament to the things she'd been doing that evening. She appeared to be an innocent, well dressed woman who's only intentions were continuing a night of partying. She appeared sober, and she truly was, but she would be lying if she said she hadn't had a drink- or two- since the night had began. With a job to be done, Stella quit her moseying around. After all, her contact would be waiting on her, and it would be quite cruel to keep them waiting. The flickering of streetlights occasionally caught the shine of the ruby on her ring, casting a red sheen over her skin. Most would think it was a simple piece of jewelry, but it most definitely was not. The Family was everything to her, and no matter how dirty or hard the work got, she'd do it. That was why after she'd been asked to do this job she didn't dare question her Don.
Now she waited, looking for anything identifiable about the people around her. She'd been given an idea of who she was looking for, but of course it was jewelry she was really keeping an eye on. Then she saw him. A man who appeared intoxicated with hair as dark as oil. There was something startling about him, but he was still quite a handsome man. Stella caught up to him, her heels clicking quietly against the sidewalk. "Mm, it looks like someone has had a good night. Perhaps some company would do you good?" She suggested, running a hand through her hair. It had all been a bit of code, of course, and the way her hand ran through her hair gave him just a hint of a view of the signet ring on her slender finger. |
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Darkseeker
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He prides himself on seeing everyone before they see him, but when Louis' eyes settle on the brown-haired woman, she's already walking towards him. For a moment, the facade drops, and his brows furrow, before he schools his expression back into easy neutrality. She's pretty, in an almost understated way, the kind of person who seems like she could blend into a crowd any time she wanted to. He notes the signet ring immediately; rubies, not a traditional stone but it looks good against her skin. When she opens her mouth to offer him company, his eyes dance over her, collecting information. It breaks the drunken effect a little, his eyes are too clear, but when he speaks, his words are slurred. "I'm not quite done getting into trouble, beautiful. Is that the kind of company you're looking for?" He offers her his arm respectfully, although he doesn't really wait for her to take it before scanning the street for somewhere a little more private to talk. There's not a lot of good options, but he settles on an alley between a cafe and a bodega, both closed. It's seedy, and if anyone sees them disappear into the shadows there, it'll look suspect at best, but whatever she has to say to him is probably best not overheard. Discreetly, he tips his head towards the alleyway and waits for her to assent. |
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Neutral
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Blending in was Stella's way of life. When you have a simple kind of beautiful face, why not use it to your advantage? It especially helped when you wanted to notice someone before they noticed you. Just like that startling handsome man she'd approached. While he'd studied her, her own hazel eyes traversed him, taking in his entire demeanor and appearance. He made her wonder if he was actually drunk, but who was she to ask? Besides, it was fitting. Sliding her arm into his, she cozied up next to him with no problem. "That's the only kind of company I'm looking for, love," she purred, meaning each and every work. Even if she wasn't working, he would have been the trouble she'd be looking to get into. She found him curious. A bit odd, but overall he looked like he'd be a good time to her. To the tip of his head she gave a small, discreet nod. It was their best option, and at best anyone that saw them would just assume something crude had went down.
In a matter of moments Stella had began veering of inconspicuously towards the alley with her arm still snug with his. Their transaction was indeed best left to their ears only, otherwise they'd be compromised and quite likely reported by some fool of a snitch. They couldn't have that at all. |
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Darkseeker
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Louis grinned down at the woman unabashadly, almost boyishly, using his free hand to cover the one she placed on his arm. It was a little presumptious, but he made the educated guess that she wouldn't mind, and so he shepherded them along at a leisurely pace. He didn't beeline for the alley, instead makes like he's walking past it, and at the last second, sidestepping into the alley, as opposed to turning his body. It's an awkward motion, especially with him dragging the woman along, but effective; as long as you weren't paying too much attention, it would simply look like they had disappeared into the crowd. He kept ahold of the woman for a few steps into the alley, just in case someone happened to be watching, but once they had truly faded into the shadows, he released her. "They didn't tell me much," he said, by way of greeting, pulling a cigarette and a matchbox from his pocket and lighting with an almost feminine flourish. "I know there's money involved, and art, both of which will need to be cleaned. I know at some point I'll be connected with a pickpocket, presumably he's the one getting his hands dirty." He tossed the match into the gutter, dragged deeply from his cigarette. "Your man and mine split the money, once I clean it. Where do you come in?" Pointedly, he did not ask her name, did not offer his own. She's pretty, and on a normal night he'd probably be willing to devote some time to her, but tonight he's all business. The kind of money that gets wrapped up in art is almost as complex and difficult to clean as the money involved in politics; and he wanted as little skin in the game as possible. It's necessary, if he wanted to keep himself out of jail, which he does. Belatedly, he did offer her a cigarette, his good manners winning out. |
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Neutral
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A light, girlish giggle could be heard as he placed his free hand over hers. His skin was warm and refreshing on such a cool night. She hadn't minded, of course, but this man was being just a bit bold. She quite liked it. She kept up with his leisure pace, acting as though she was in no hurry. They didn't need to raise any suspicions. It was a bit awkward to be dragged into the alley like that, but she made do and kept close until the shadows had effectively covered them both. Once released, her hand dropped to rest on her curvaceous hip. "They never do, do they?" She mused, a grin appearing as he assumed his pickpocket would be a man. The flicker of the match drew her attention for a moment before her gaze rose back to his face when he questioned where she came in. "All that you've said is accurate but one thing. You've already met your pickpocket,"she explained, her voice remaining soft as to not attract any attention. They were a decent ways down the alley, but she didn't want her voice to carry or echo. "That, love, is where I come in. I've already started feeling out the man who has the wares, and his guard is already lowered for me. All that's left is for me to take action," she explained, taking the cigarette with a subtle thanks before bringing to her lips. Stella took a small drag, inhaling the smoke before turning her face away to blow the smoke away. She held the cigarette back out for his taking. "All I need to know is how you'd like to do the exchange once I have my hands on everything," she told him, a light chill running down her spine. |
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Darkseeker
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It was uncommon for women to take up this line of work, but not unheard of. If they weren't power-hungry Donnas, they were madams, or else prostitutes who dealt in secreats. Louis had worked with several, he knew the air of them like nobody else. This woman was decidedly none of the above, but she had that same duplicity about her. He smiled ruefully down at her, respectful enough to not follow the movement of her hands, her hips, her mouth, although he wondered if the moves were concious or not. He wondered how exactly she got in with her marks, and if he was one himself. "Seems like I'm behind the mark," he offered gamely, hooking one hand into his pocket, surreptitiously checking to ensure both his wallet and pocketwatch were still present (they were, thankfully), and pulling out the latter to check the time. It was later than he had hoped, probably too late for any man of good standing to be out with any woman of good standing. "I suppose what I want done depends on what you're bringing me." A comfortable silence descended for a moment as Lou drew out a bookie's notebook from the interior lining of his coat, along with a pen. On the former, he wrote down an address, ripped out the paper, folded it crisply, and handed it to her. "If it's small enough to carry without notice, bring it to this address. She'll contact me. If it's bigger..." He paused for a moment, considering. He narrowed his eyes and tilted his head in a manner he knew to be disconcerting, and thus employed rarely. The look was gone almost as soon as it came, replaced by something riding the line between teasing and warning. "I get the feeling you won't struggle to find me if it's bigger? Is that right beautiful?" Again, it was presumptious, but she'd found him once, and all it would take to do so again is to haunt East Harlem and she'd find him again. He placed his belongings back in their rightful pockets and leaned back on his haunches. |
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Summer 
Night 
Fog Moon: 
