Reaver's Unfortunate Wheel of Misfortune || Jack, Stella Beck, Logan Black

The last thing Jack remembered was downing drinks at a Bowerstone tavern with a funny name that had something to do with chickens. His adventure around Albion had certainly provided him with the adrenaline rushes he so badly craved while living out in Silverpines, but it made him miss his team even more. How he wished they were here with him! Originally Jack had wanted to go back to Cardiff, but he'd come to enjoy Albion with its weird creatures and monsters, its people, hell, even the food! But it just wasn't the same without his beloved Torchwood. He missed them all so much. His only fear was that they thought that he'd run off again without letting them all know and they hated him for it. His heart gave a pang at that thought and Jack downed the rest of his drink to stop thinking.

Somewhere in between all the brooding thoughts, a relatively handsome chap in a top-hat that defied gravity and a black heart tattoo on his cheek had sidled up to him and began chatting. No, not just chatting, but flirting. Jack, never one to deny someone the pleasure of a good flirt, had taken up the challenge with gusto. The chat had turned to where each of them were from. After some initial hesitation, Jack had confessed that he wasn't a native Albionite like the chap was. Consequently the chat turned to where Jack was from and the man regaled the other with tales of Cardiff and the Torchwood team. The dark-haired stranger had listened intently to Jack's stories, a strange smile crossing his features. The smile had unnerved Jack slightly, but he paid the feeling no mind and kept talking. As he talked, Jack felt his eyes grow heavy and try as he might he was unable to win the battle over sleep. So he'd slumped, right there, the tankard dropping to the floor with a clatter.

And now he was here. Wherever the hell 'here' was. He groaned as he sat up, blearily looking around. This certainly wasn't the tavern, nor any other place he'd seen on his travels around Albion. His mind began thinking of places where he could be, but thinking hurt and so he stopped, opting instead to just survey his surroundings. His head felt like it had been hit with a TARDIS, and as Jack rubbed his head a scowl crossed his features as he realized exactly what had happened. Damn bastard had spiked his drink! That's the last time I'll ever drink with overly-fancily dressed Albionites in ridiculous tophats, he thought angrily to himself, though at the back of his mind that wasn't likely to happen. Jack couldn't resist handsome strangers and a good flirt. And as long as he was immortal, it didn't matter what sort of situations he managed to get himself into; there was always a way out.

Standing up, he looked around the place. It screamed of riches and wealth, and Jack gave a slight shudder at the thought of what might be in store. The richest were always the strangest. Looking up he realized that the room was a pit of sorts, and up high there was a ledge where people in lavish costumes stood watching. It's almost like a...gladiator pit... Up high on one wall was a wheel, with odd little pictures all around the sides, and a feeling of unease crept up on Jack. Instinctively he reached for his gun, giving a sigh of relief to find it still tucked away in his holster. Whatever this night would bring, he was ready.

NOTES So excited about this! Also, if you notice Jack not being played right, lemme know please!
OUTFIT Regular Jack outfit
CREDITS  Song "Captain Jack" ~ Template by Doe-Eyed Harlot of Caution.

Stella really didn't want to be here. In fact, this was the very last place that the queen of Albion wished to be in. It was bad enough that she had to put up with Reaver on an almost daily basis, but to be forced into seeing him in her leisure time, well, it was all too much. But Jasper had insisted. Reaver was, he reminded her, the biggest donor to the royal treasury. Stella was sure that Reaver only did it so that when he needed a giant favour, she would be less likely to say no to him, but since he helped keep Albion away from destitution, she was going to keep such thoughts to herself.

Tonight the business man was hosting one of his famous parties. Reaver's parties were renowned across Albion for lots of drinking, sex, and the odd game of "Spin Reaver's Wheel Of Misfortune" where unlucky participants, usually lowly commoners or mercenaries, had to battle it out against a series of creatures for the entertainment and amusement of Reaver's guests. It would have been wonderful entertainment for bloodthirsty citizens, which Stella guessed all of Reaver's guests were if they willingly attended such parties. It wasn't what Stella would personally call fun, nor was it something she would dream of attending had she not been pushed into it. She would be much more happier spending the night with Mac at The Cock in the Crown, drinking with the commoners, instead of rubbing elbows with Albion's rich and refined, but it wasn't her choice it seemed. Jasper had insisted, and when Jasper insisted upon something, it simply had to be done, whether you wanted to or not. The queen was certain that for most of the rich in Millfields, Reaver's parties were the highlight of their month; she simply found them distasteful.

But despite whinging and grumbling as she did so, much to the annoyance of Jasper though he was polite enough not to show it, Stella had found herself a dress, did her hair and make-up, and headed out into the castle gardens to the Cullis Gate to take her to the party. The beauty and elegance of her ensemble was only slightly ruined by the Hero sword strapped to her back and the spell gauntlets that she'd managed to squeeze into a red satin purse. She'd explained her need for weaponry as wanting to be prepared just in case she was ambushed on her walk from the Millfields Cullis Gate to Reaver's Manor, but in actual fact she wanted to have her weaponry just in case the party took a turn for the worst, as it had the last time she had been at one. Reaver's butler would probably end up taking the sword off her anyway, but it was better to be safe rather than sorry.

The walk to the manor was an uneventful one, allowing Stella to enjoy a spot of stargazing as she walked. As expected, her sword was taken off her upon her arrival, but thankfully the butler didn't bother asking to see inside her purse, and so she was allowed inside with her gauntlets, something that Stella was thrilled about. Even with just her gauntlets as protection, it was still better than nothing if things got rough. Entering the ballroom, the queen gave Reaver a polite smile as she murmured a greeting, though the smile was immediately replaced with a scow the moment his back turned. Even spending the evening fighting Sand Furies in Aurora was more pleasant than having to go a whole night of acting civil with Reaver. She was already mentally preparing herself to not punch Reaver or do any other such unladylike things if he said something irritating. She was the queen, after all, and she had to rise above such petty ways of taking out her annoyance.

A servant brought her a drink over and Stella fought the urge to sniff it, just in case it had been laced it with something. Her royal upbringing won out against such a blatantly uncouth act, however, and she took a sip of the wine that had been given to her. The wine was aromatic and sweet, but gave a bit of an aftertaste kick. It was pleasant, and though it wasn't something that she might have considered drinking, she kind of liked it. Drink in hand, she murmured hellos to various ladies and gentlemen as she sashayed through the crowd, hoping to find someone that she knew other than Reaver that she would be able to talk to throughout the night. She wondered for a moment whether Logan had been invited out to this party; if he had, at least she would be able to have some sort of company. She didn't particularly fancy the company of trophy wives and nobles, all keen to get into the queen's good books.

lyrics • If Today Was Your Last Day by Nickelback
notes • apologies for the lameish post but I had to get her in there somehow. She hasn't noticed Mac or Jack yet, obvs.
outfit • This
credit • Calypso

Looking up at the crowd, Jack frowned. The hungry looks on their aristocratic faces wasn't the most pleasant of things to look at and the man was sure that were they in a less upscale environment (though upscale was certainly a subjective term), they'd already be baying for blood. Bloody bigwigs, he thought, a look of disgust crossing his features. Nothing but a bunch of bloodthirsty animals, making play they're classy and elegant. Such a display disgusted him, and Jack fought the urge to do a few very crude gestures to the crowd, especially to the gent in the top hat that had spiked his drink in order to bring him here, whom Jack had just spotted.

He had figured out by now that he was going to have to fight. There was one other man in the pit, but Jack had not yet spoken to him, having wanted to gather his bearings first. He wondered whether it really would be like the gladiator pits of old where he would have to fight this stranger to the death merely to entertain them. Jack dearly hoped that the whole point of tonight wasn't that; his immortality gave him an unfair advantage and having the upper hand just because of Rose Tyler's little (alright, big, very big) mistake way back when would just be plain unfair.

But if they were to fight each other, what was the point of this elaborate set-up? Where did the strange wheel with its odd pictures come into play? Jack took a step closer to the blasted thing, peering at it. He recognized several of the creatures from his travels, though some where a mystery to him. Hobbes and Hollow Men he had met on his travels up to Bowerstone. Nasty creatures, but easy enough to dispatch with when you knew how. And there were Balverines. Of course, Jack thought wryly, wrinkling his nose sightly in distaste. Where would Albion be without the mangy Balverines? At least he still had his guns and sword. Prior to Albion, Jack had never bothered with such an archaic weapon. He'd learned how to wield it but up until his arrival in Albion, he'd had no need to use it. But since living in Silverpines, he'd become quite the expert with it thanks to the fact that silver bullets were expensive and he couldn't die, no matter how many times the Balverines tried to destroy him.

A voice made him turn, and warily Jack appraised the man that was speaking to him, his hand not moving from his gun. It was the same male that he had briefly seen as he woke up from his impromptu 'nap'. The same one that the immortal captain was hoping he wouldn't be forced to battle against during the course of the night. "As far as I can tell, we'll be battling. Whether against one another or against some of the beasts on that wheel," here Jack gave a nod towards the ominous wheel with its strange markings, "is beyond me. Maybe we have to fight each other while the beasts try to eat us?" He gave a grim shrug, running a hand through his tousled hair. "Best not to think of that, I find. Captain Jack Harkness," he greeted him, sticking out his hand and smiling slightly. "And who might you be?"

NOTES Rose Tyler was the one who accidentally turned Jack immortal for those that don't follow Doctor Who :3
OUTFIT Regular Jack outfit
CREDITS  Song "Captain Jack" ~ Template by Doe-Eyed Harlot of Caution.

Trying to keep her scowl hidden from the present company, Stella downed the rest of her drink and picked up another off the silver tray of a passing waiter. If she was going to have to be in Reaver's company tonight, she sure as Avo wasn't going to do it sober. In foresight she realized it wasn't the wisest of plans, but it was the only plan she had in her mental 'how-to-deal-with-Reaver-and-not-punch-him' handbook. She pushed through the crowd, her polite smile turning more into a grimace with every passing second. She wondered how long she'd have to stay at this party at. She desperately hoped that she wasn't going to be expected to stay the whole night, because if she was there was no way she'd make it through the night in any semblance of sobriety and that really wasn't a good look for the queen of Albion. Besides which she had no desire to again be invited to a 'private party' in Reaver's bedroom as he'd proposed to her the last time she was here. He'd been lucky that she'd had enough self-control not to puke all over his beautiful parquet floors.

She felt a hand pat her rump and angrily she swatted away, turning to glare at whoever had the impertinence for such a deed but was faced with a group wearing the most innocent expressions like butter wouldn't melt in their mouths. Muttering a string of obscenities that definitely shouldn't be leaving a queen's mouth let alone in vaguely polite society, she continued in her endeavor of finding someone that she could spend the night with without wanting to use her blades spell on. Which was definitely going to be a quest and a half given the company.

With some relief she spotted a familiar figure up ahead, and mustering enough self-control not to run up to him and envelope him in a grateful hug, she sauntered up to Logan. "I swear to Avo, if one more person touches me who isn't Ben Finn or Page, I'm going to annihilate this entire party," she commented with a scowl, moving swiftly out the way as a group of gents in masks waltzed past her. Slipping her arm around Logan's, she gently tugged him in an effort to get them away from the main party. "If I ever find out who did it, they're getting a one-way-ticket to Ravenscar." She gulped down the rest of her drink then took a deep breath, in an effort to calm herself. Finally she gave her brother a smile, happy to see at least one friendly face in this wretched place. "You look nice tonight," she said simply. "How have you been? It feels like I haven't seen you in forever..."

lyrics • If Today Was Your Last Day by Nickelback
notes • yes, she has a crush on Page too. because why not? xD
outfit • This
credit • Calypso