tyler_gone: (facepalm)
The zombie had spent an indignant day locked inside a reinforced closet, alternately chowing down on pork brains and trying to chew or claw his way through the door. He was missing the battle, and that would displease his master.

He was still pounding at the door with fists that had long since turned to mush when the curse lifted.

The fists became living, if scarred, flesh and bone once more, but Tyler kept pounding at the door for a moment.

Then he stopped. Maybe if he closed his eyes and didn't move, people would forget about him entirely until he had actually died of embarrassment. He sat on the closet floor, wishing he had some gum or something to get the taste of pork brains out of his mouth.

And he really didn't want to know why his pockets felt so lumpy.

[OOC: For anyone who lives there, or who might otherwise want to let him out.]
tyler_gone: (at desk)
It was Monday and a slightly bruised Tyler was in his office, idly mentally replaying the spars from the day before. He still couldn't believe someone actually wrestled a wolf; that was taking the whole man-vs-nature thing a little far for his tastes.

But he supposed hitting a teenage girl for fun was up there on the craziness scale, too.

The office door was open, and he was ready for any distraction.
tyler_gone: ([au] louis up close)
The taste of the priest's blood still sang in Louis' mouth as he ran back to the home whose keys had been among the belongings in the apartment where he woke up with that same priest the morning before.

He was the most vile of all sinners, and he knew it, damned even among those doomed to walk as vampires. The fact he knew Lestat would take pride in what he'd done made it sting even more.

He wondered, dimly, where Lestat and Claudia had gotten to; he hadn't seen them since the tavern the night before. With that thought on his mind, he started exploring the house, searching for signs of any residents living, dead, or otherwise.

[OOC: For the other vampeers and the housemates.]
tyler_gone: (at desk)
A new semester and new class meant Tyler should probably actually go to his office and do work, especially since he still needed to brush up on his own history before he could inflict his knowledge on anyone else.

Mostly, this meant he was paging through A People's History of the United States and counting how many ways people who didn't look like him had gotten screwed over. The answer seemed to be "a lot."

The office door was open.

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Tyler Durden

April 2015

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