Willard H. Wright (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
alethiological) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
undergrounds2015-08-15 08:20 am
alethiological) wrote in undergrounds2015-08-15 08:20 am
Entry tags:
August Free Post; I'm on a Carr kick I'm sorry
[A; Till Jet Lag Do Us Part]
It's just one of the usual boring evenings on the stations, waiting for your train to arrive. The usual terrible conditions, unhelpful staff, and random hobos sleeping on the benches. Or random tourists passed out from jet lag waiting for the train. Maybe you're one of those people nice enough to stop someone from stealing a suitcase. More likely, you're the one stealing it.
In any case, you're immediately treated to the siren sounds of accented swears and the person you are hypothetically trying to rob glaring at you. Gold eyes are suitibly intense for that. "What time is it?"
---
[B; Behind the Crimson Blinds]
Hillingdon is known for many things, mostly the fact everyone in it is crazy, or assholes, or both. What is less known is that, like any proper association of crazy assholes, they keep records. Kills, assignments, random receipts, half-finished letters. A pit of madness no sane person would enter of their own free will. Said Will can be found in the pit of madness, surrounded by piles of organized papers and flipping through another one with the ease of a mindless drone.
---
[C; And So To (Almost) Murder - first come, only served]
Later in the month, Lewisham is now a safe haven to the Fae. Which is a total load of nonsense, who leaves overseas for a month just to come back to their claimed No Man's Land being filled with a bunch of flighty, irresponsible monsters? They don't even have the decency to be subtle about it. Which is surprising, considering how subtle the takeover itself was.
Someone else masterminded it, obviously. Getting a name is easy. All that needs to be done is follow protocol: get one of the abominations to confess, remove the sin as is required, track down the one responsible and Fix It. It's just another in a myriad series of mistakes, and Our Purpose is to fix mistakes.
The only thing you hear is a sharp shout, cut off far too fast, but no one minds one person missing. Unless you do, which means you find one (count, 1) Fae held out swordpoint by one (count, 1) psychopath, bright gold eyes and black roiling smog. It also means you get immediately glared at because, honestly now, who interrupts an Equalizing. Rude much.
---
[D; Wildcard]
> insert words receive subpar tags
((apologies for slowtags for aforementioned reasons))
It's just one of the usual boring evenings on the stations, waiting for your train to arrive. The usual terrible conditions, unhelpful staff, and random hobos sleeping on the benches. Or random tourists passed out from jet lag waiting for the train. Maybe you're one of those people nice enough to stop someone from stealing a suitcase. More likely, you're the one stealing it.
In any case, you're immediately treated to the siren sounds of accented swears and the person you are hypothetically trying to rob glaring at you. Gold eyes are suitibly intense for that. "What time is it?"
---
[B; Behind the Crimson Blinds]
Hillingdon is known for many things, mostly the fact everyone in it is crazy, or assholes, or both. What is less known is that, like any proper association of crazy assholes, they keep records. Kills, assignments, random receipts, half-finished letters. A pit of madness no sane person would enter of their own free will. Said Will can be found in the pit of madness, surrounded by piles of organized papers and flipping through another one with the ease of a mindless drone.
---
[C; And So To (Almost) Murder - first come, only served]
Later in the month, Lewisham is now a safe haven to the Fae. Which is a total load of nonsense, who leaves overseas for a month just to come back to their claimed No Man's Land being filled with a bunch of flighty, irresponsible monsters? They don't even have the decency to be subtle about it. Which is surprising, considering how subtle the takeover itself was.
Someone else masterminded it, obviously. Getting a name is easy. All that needs to be done is follow protocol: get one of the abominations to confess, remove the sin as is required, track down the one responsible and Fix It. It's just another in a myriad series of mistakes, and Our Purpose is to fix mistakes.
The only thing you hear is a sharp shout, cut off far too fast, but no one minds one person missing. Unless you do, which means you find one (count, 1) Fae held out swordpoint by one (count, 1) psychopath, bright gold eyes and black roiling smog. It also means you get immediately glared at because, honestly now, who interrupts an Equalizing. Rude much.
---
[D; Wildcard]
> insert words receive subpar tags
((apologies for slowtags for aforementioned reasons))
B!
Faolan peers down at the other man from where he sits amidst the chaos. Maybe they've heard of each other, maybe they haven't. Faolan's name has certainly been on enough of those forms over the years he's been a hunter in the clan now. He hasn't exactly been all that social, however. And not being one to hang around Hillingdon House without a purpose, he's easily missed. But he's there with a purpose -- to access the records. Those same records that this other man seems to be there for as well.
"Having fun, there?" he can't help but asking. Wryly.
no subject
And then there's someone interrupting. The usual instinct from home comes up: demotion, smash their head open with a paperweight, find a new useless intern to try and keep pace with the proper Weapons of His name. There may (definitely) be a moment here where the feeling in the air is barely restrained anger management issues.
Right. Right. You're not in America. Don't have the clearance to dispose of useless garbage subordinates here. Do baristas deliver here? Stupid England and their ridiculous European nonsense.
...Still better than America, though.
"Don't pick on my hobbies," with just enough inflection on the deadpan to tell it's a joke. Maybe. He still turns around to shoot the interloper a blank stare. "What year are you looking for?"
no subject
"Faolan. Faolan O'Neill. That would be the name on the report. It should be, anyway. I was the one who filed it. My case and all." He shrugs slightly. Yeah, he's probably part of the reason to blame that it's all a mess. What can he say, this whole paperwork thing isn't really his forte.
no subject
"Somewhere in there. The records were originally by rank, then surname." And if the name is familiar then- Faolan earns that 'huh' noise one gets when a mystery of the universe just aligned itself into making perfect sense.
"You're one of the ones that actually works. Your contributions for that year begin around a third in."
Not that he's a higher up, not that he's on old hand, nothing that would make any logical sense. It's that Faolan actually (attempted to) file proper reports about his taken assignments. Paperwork is Incredibly Important, after all.
my apologies for the delay, the work week is killer :x
'One of the ones that actually works,' he had said, and he has to quirk an ironic smile at that one. Well, that he does. "What can I say," Faolan says, as he sifts through the papers. "I may not always get it right, but I like to at least try and follow protocol. Set a good example and such. Figure someone has to, in a place like this."
He glances up at the other man. "What about you?" he inquires of him. "What have you done, to land yourself in the position of having to organize this lot? Don't tell me that you volunteered," he adds, cracking something of a wry smile at him.
D, like this was gonna be a thing that got avoided lbr
It'd started with simple neglect. Without the subtle support of an anchor that she'd grown used to, her progress towards anything tangible crumbled. Then came her run-in with the Fae, and her energy faded further. She'd tried to contact him over the month he'd been
missinggone, occasional Skype pings and half-started conversations abound - but every single one ended with the same kind of frustration, landmines tripped and a feeling that something was wrong that she didn't know how to fix.Eventually it just... stopped, as her attempts stalled all together. Which meant she missed Will's eventual return to London, but that was surely okay. Maybe she'd finally broken the laptop. No big deal, right?
aradia why you do this
That's Wrong. Even the air itself is Wrong - there's none of her usual residue of annoyance and hype. Instead it's... blank. Too blank. Focusing on anything else turns up blank, the very sensation drowned out by anyone nearby.
Okay, this is upgraded to Very Wrong. Solution is to drop off his suitcases and immediately beelining to her house. It's not far, nor hard to find with the disarray it's in. Except she's not in the main room. Shit. And her weird residue has changed from her normal aura to something entirely despairing.
Concerning, but easily spotted. The doorframe gets knocked on. Loudly. "Aradia?"
because she feeds on his tears
One of the small advantages to being a ghost was that, no matter how far she tries to roam, sooner or later she'll always go back to her Haunt. There's times where she'd wish her haunt was elsewhere, somewhere with more life to it. But right now the quiet is appreciated, honestly, as it lets her recover in peace. Her manifesting is too out of sync to leave, but that's okay. That means she's safe here. The weird Fae can't find her if she's not leaving trails everywhere.
For a given value of safe, anyway. She's not an idiot. She knows that was a stupid mistake and she can't tell if she escaped in time, she doesn't know how much is that anchor thing Clara mentioned and nothing's making sense. Everything's out of focus again, and-- no, she's fine. She's okay. She's--
--there's a knock. Everything grows still, the moment between the alert and her name stretching out awfully long until time starts again.
She doesn't need to stare at the door, as the voice behind it registers immediately, but it's something she feels like indulging in to ground herself. The little details are important. "Oh. You're back. That's good."
poltergeists why
A threshold. With iron as a conduit. Shit. There's a sharp inhale as the usual mental walls are thrown up. Come on, don't be a coward, you can handle that much silver in your veins, iron isn't that much harder. The magic binding it is harder to deal with, but not much. Same as every other time, just brace the same amount of effort against it- forgot the gloves, iron burns, it doesn't hurt, it doesn't hurt, how dare they try to refuse Our presence-
Aradia gets the wonderful sensation of her sister's comforting threshold magically getting its door kicked in clear off the hinges. In reality, Will just opens the door enough to lean in and stare at her. The deadpan might be tinged with concern the instant there's eye contact.
"Yeah." There'd be an attempt to walk in but. She's hiding in a corner. That's weird. The lightbulbs, the power outtages, and now this. He doesn't enter yet. "Has everything been all right?"
his fault for feeding her everyone knows they follow you home
Which means when Will cheerfully smashes the threshold aside like it's made of cardboard, she can't help but flinch and sink further into the corner. Walls are barely noticeable to her at this point, she can leave if she has to faster then he can-- no, it's Will, he's safe. Right?
"I'm okay." Blatant lies, but if she stares at the door instead of him she wont have to talk about it. He's probably trying to freak her out on purpose with how well the sharp gold stands out in the gloom of her apartment, anyway. "Just wanted to hang here for a bit. Less things to break."
... She. Didn't mean to say that last part out loud, but whatever. It's still a valid answer. Fight her.
nope he's innocent
"I noticed." Kind of like how he notices her starting to spacially twitch back and forth through the wall like a graphics glitch. It's weird. Thankfully, Will is smart enough to save that topic for later. "If you were that stressed, why didn't you contact me?"
Well about that.
is he sure about that i mean she's seen his laptop
There's the first flicker of emotion since he entered the room, a mute sort of confusionworryhurt that gets stomped out just as fast as it shows. It shouldn't be surprising that he's being ridiculous, given how the last few weeks went, and clearly she should ignore it because it's dumb to get upset over things like this.
"I did contact you," and it's stated with the toneless weight of an immutable fact. The usual stubborn anger that should, by all means, be building in her voice by now is conspicuously absent. "You stopped replying after a while, so I figured it was easier to deal with it alone. That way I wouldn't be causing a problem."
wow excuse you his laptop is a saint
Unfortunately, this will not be analyzed at this moment because wait what?
"What?"
No, inhale, try again, exhale. Just like Aradia, that first glimmer of genuine feeling smashed into ashes before it could compromise rationality. "I never replied to anything." Because there were no messages. Were there? He doesn't remember, so they didn't happen. That thought is highly concerning up until it actually isn't.
"Either way. I've told you that messaging me isn't a problem."
lies and slander his laptop isn't free of sin either
But the exact moment her thoughts catch up is clear. She freezes again mid-movement, head snapping back around to watch Will properly, and her hesitant not-quite-correction is oddly quiet. "Or I thought they were?"
She knows they sent, as she remembers staring at each timestamp to make sure. Remembers the backlash from the broken lights when frustration bled past her shaky control, too, and there's another muted flash of guilt over realizing that his apartment probably looks like a trainwreck. But that means either his weird memory problems got worse when he vanished, or he really didn't see them somehow - yet he replied to the first bunch of inane texts, so that makes no sense.
The possibility that it's a lie and that their current conversation is fake pops up and immediately gets overruled. Dwelling on that charming outcome will only lead to bad things. Shrug, move on, it's not worth the hassle- "But that's okay, I guess. It ended up being pretty irrelevant anyway."
don't talk shit it totally is free of sin. hater.
"I remember the first few, before I had to file my reports. Nothing else." Except that last one rolls off weird, stings in a way, brings a flash of something more- "Ah. No. At the end of the week you sent a weird text. It was out of character for you, so I got worried and left early."
Is that right? There's a frown right after. It feels wrong, but that's all that's remembered, everything else is just black spots or frozen movie frames. Thankfully Aradia says something dumb to be a distraction, and an excuse to joss the whole concern before migraines start popping up-
We apologize, whatever was going to be placed here has been redacted.
The house is a mess, she's hiding in this
witch'sroom, and now that she's removed herself from the building, the glitching movements and total missing segments of her body become obvious.Well, it does qualify as a distraction.
"Yeah. Irrelevant," a bit too terse, on account of "What happened? And don't say 'nothing' or 'im okay'."
it's about as free of sin as her *foot*. dumbass.
And there's the unconscious snap of feedback that follows anything she does; except it's way too weak without the usual whipcrack of temper backing it, nothing left to break but another degree of warmth leeched from the air. Aradia barely notices, still staring at Will like he's grown a second head - or maybe lost his old one, truthfully, he's sounding about that level of ridiculous.
Please ignore how she's almost fading into the background. The narrative is doing it's best to forget, too.
"Sorry about it being weird. I think that's about when my hands started going through the keyboard again." A beat, because wait no she's trying to steer the conversation away from the obvious pitfall. Crap. "I didn't realize a month counted as early for vanishing routines. I'll try to remember that next time."
If she turns it back on him again, she can get by without talking about it, without thinking about it, she's okay. Aradia's not quite so out of it that she didn't pick up on the monotone, buddy.
but her foot's free of sin because it's 100% full of Dead
He's not stupid. Something went wrong. Incredibly so. It needs to be fixed. What can even damage ghosts? Asking her is out of the question, she's so single-mindedly focused on pushing the topic back to him. Look it up maybe? No, cross reference. Why is it this room in particular she hides in? Not her room in her haunt, but the sister's that she's refused to enter before now? Most likely answer: Threshold. Way too strong, still nagging at the back of his head, sizzles like pop rocks across every nerve ending, almost impressive. Would be worth hunting her down, the fight would be something worth the time put in. Narrows down culprits to a weak vampire or a fae, and vampires can't hurt ghosts.
The gears to a far-too-efficient machine click across the motions, but to Aradia the glare only lasts until a few seconds after her last comeback. Because the most logical analysis is calculated in heartbeats, the faint ghosts her Heart leaves supports it, and there's multiple ways to call her out on it. She's dodging, so obviously, failing in ways she's never done. There's chunks of her body missing, she moves like she's a glitching CRT monitor on its last legs of life.
(And he's a Fae.)
Let her have the point. The glare doesn't ease off (she'd catch it too fast) and instead switches to squinting at her in suspicion. Or at least a horrifyingly accurate portrayal of it. "It wasn't a month. I would've noticed a gap that large."
i guess that means her sole was worth dying for
-and Aradia immediately clamps back down on the fact that she's entirely okay and ignores how reality flatlined for half a second, tops. It felt like early August on repeat, all confusion and sudden fluctuations in her control and she remembers Clara mentioning that, once. How ghosts tend to fade after a while if they do stupid things like unanchor themselves entirely. But she swore she fixed that, didn't she?
When Will switches topics and goes for her terrible attempt at a distraction, it's almost a relief. Even if she can't really shake the feeling that she skipped something important.
"It was." At least she's starting to break away from the dazed monontone, like a radio slowly being tuned - it's stilted and offkilter but it's something, at least. Unfortunately, 'something' is entirely flickers of concern over the apparent time-loss on Will's part. "Unless you forgot to look at a calendar the whole time."
why the puns why this
has to.
Because if he doesn't, the topic is Aradia's Problems, and she doesn't look like she can handle that right now. Quite literally, considering that moment where she shorted out from existence to the point even his own eyes couldn't spot her. Concern is a grounding feeling, even if her aiming it at him is stupid, he doesn't want it, but it's helping her? Flesh sloughs off invisibly in tune to Damara shouting at him to leave and his old Overseer shouting at him to stop dragging others down in his mistakes.
To hell with both of You, he's doing neither of those.
"I did. ...Or I thought I did." A landmine immediately appears after that thought, is mentally evaded on reflex-
And then kicked out of sheer spite of getting yelled at by hallucinations. "Certain areas don't allow timekeeping methods of any kind. 'You'll just keep looking at the clock waiting for the day to end.' And you say my logic is bad."
idk but you really walked into that one
"But your logic is bad," and naturally the pot continues to call the kettle black, because it's not hypocrisy if nobody brings it up. "Keeping track of the date isn't the same as waiting for a shift to end. How are you supposed to know which days you have to show up for otherwise?"
There's a single, innocent moment after her question where nothing hurts and everything is fine.
It's promptly ruined when Aradia remembers the stupid hours she's seen him keep over the months they've been friends, and this time she's not quick enough to block out the muted feeling of kicking herself in the mental shins before it takes hold. "... Whatever. Your logic's still dumb if you seriously think that was a week."
You're killing me here
-But she's not really questioning them, it's his stupid logic she's nitpicking. It's the usual thing Aradias do where they lambast his life choices because That's What Megi-do. Ignore the pun, that's all the narrator's fault, what a jerk, that's not the important part.
The important part is the justification clicks into place, a heartbeat's switch of finding a loophole in so short a time, only those looking for it would catch on. Ignore the fact that even that itself counts as an answer. Or maybe a hint.
"More like we're not supposed to leave."
... Well.
"But you're right. Whatever. My perception of time went off," again a bit deadpanned, but that's not weird. The weird part is admitting she's right in the first place. "You win the house prize, which is nothing."
Or not.
i cant think of any puns this early in the morning but jfc this took me three weeks this isnt bueno
The narration has encountered a slight but noticeable problem. That problem is Aradia being far too out of sorts to realize why Will let the argument go so easily, while simultaneously being coherent enough to catch onto it being A Problem in the first place - landmines aren't worth dodging in the face of stupid like this, after all, why would those ever be relevant. The very idea is absurd. Shame on you for thinking this would ever make sense.
What all of that actually translates into is more confusion and a half-hearted squint. The snap felt uncomfortable-familiar that time, but it's quickly chalked up to the differences his absence left behind instead of something useful, even if that doesn't sit quite right the longer she thinks about it. Eugh. "It's still pretty ridiculous, but... I guess it's okay? Maybe leave notes or something next time, though. That way I'm at least warned about stupid absences instead of... whatever."
Aradia neglects to press her accidental advantage, instead trailing off into stilted acceptance, the blank half-eaten static seeping back into her thoughts. But for the first time since her unfortunate brawl, she's managed to forget her own problems long enough to pull herself together a bit. So even with the missed hints, maybe they both win-
"... wait, if the house prize is nothing, why does it even count."
Or maybe nobody wins. That works too.
C obviously
The fae was staring in surprise at the point of the sword, his ugly face damp with sweat. And the man holding him at swordpoint turned his head to glare at Mab as though she was next on his list. How very interesting, and he wasn't human. There was something seriously off about his magic but he felt, underneath all the twisted magic, fae. Perhaps not pure fae but close enough. Black smog rolled around him and the fog that accompanied her seemed to curl around it seeping in.
Her head tilted a little and she raised one brow at the glare, if it bothered her there was no sign of offense. "Do not let me interrupt." Her voice was sweet, like a chime in the quiet of the night but low and warmer than she appeared to be. She lifted a hand to indicate he should continue. After all, if her fae could not defend himself he was hardly any use to her at all. Mab did not suffer weakness. "By all means, carry on."
no subject
It goes back in a second, but Mab is more than strong enough to feel when that magic undercurrent of 'something off' switches to 'outright wrong'. The reassessment is Correct. It makes sense, it's Logical, the hostage is Obsolete now, a disgusting monster in a world that doesn't want or need it. This is Correct.
The fog roils once, a presence strong enough to equal hers yet not forcing her own away. Merely standing its own ground. And this observation is a moot point anyway, since it's just a side effect of the previous decision. Through the neck, twist, behead, a death of the body and even the magic itself. Another unwanted piece of garbage removed, another problem fixed, and It Is Correct.
"You're not interrupting anything," with the air of total sanity. She didn't. As if something that useless was worth the time it took to corner it, ah, what a pain. Just as there was no hostility in the previous action, there's no hostility here. No advancing, just casual conversation. "Sorry. Court isn't my thing. What title should I be using?"
no subject
If he could be more predictable, the efficiency would be something that impressed her. But the wrongness, the unbalance inside him was ... concerning. "Lady is acceptable." She replied as though one of her servants (or one of the other's fae's servants) wasn't bleeding out on the sidewalk like a spilled bottle of pop. The heart slowed but the blood was still coming out in measured bursts with each beat. "And what should I call you?"
apologies for slow, Canada happened
No, wow, that's an overreaction. Investigate first, then disposal. For an instant, that wrongness slips off track, and the sword spins and changes to be pointed on the ground, both hands resting on the pommel as casually as a cane. The black smoke writhes and retreats, hiding back underneath white runes and blue robes, wisps still dissolving off his hands.
The feeling snaps away, like the disturbing power and presence wasn't even there in the first place. There is still no effort to advance on her.
"Wright." Short, simple, suspicious, "Were you the one who took Lewisham?"
And still rude as hell. There's an afterthought added of 'my Lady' a few seconds after, flat and dismissing. Eh, at least he tried. Good enough, moving on.
LOL n/p
"Wright." She replied, sounding it out in a perfect mirror of his pronunciation. He truly was rude, such a direct question. And sulky my Lady. He certainly does not have to call her his. "What business do you have in Lewisham, Mr. Wright?" Her reply is cool as well. Ice starts to sparkle on patches of water left on the sidewalk from the evening cleaning someone had done. There is an underlying curiosity as well. "And what has happened to you? So twisted, knotted and bent."
no subject
Yet that wrong undercurrent flashes by in a snap. It's not her business. You're all Godless abominations. Removing such unwanted filth is Your duty. Get some use out of yourself-
Then she asks her questions and the thoughts are smashed down, like so much ambient magic fizzling in the air. It's His problem, not Theirs, the thought that anyone else has right of opinion regarding it is infuriating. Even the Wrong burns off in the wake of it.
"What had to be done. One of us had to take responsibility," The glare doesn't ease off, the distance is closed by a few steps, and Will himself is too busy keeping eye contact to notice the sword is in-hand again. Or that her ice retreats slightly from his footsteps in hissing cracks. "One of yours attacked one of mine. Or have your Courts stopped giving weight to Debts?"
no subject
"What debt would this be, Mr. Wright? Each fae holds debts of their own." And if he was asking if her 'courts' kept to their favors owed, he was definitely outcast. "And who are yours?" So much impudence from an outcast fae. She doesn't particularly like anyone suggesting she does not keep her bargains. Invisible cold pushes against him as her power builds in response to his threatening manner.
B
He hummed cheerfully as he worked, only haphazardly glancing at the sheafs he was manhandling.
heiji why doNT TOUCH HIS PAPERS D;
No. No. Don't yell at him don't yell at him, he's a Fae, they always do stupid unhelpful shit. The voice is still a shade too terse, but at least it's on a leash. "What are you looking for?"
HE DOES WHAT HE WANTS
So it was an information-gathering call, and also a social call. And also a shuffling papers around call. Have fun trying to decipher that terrible story.
Re: HE DOES WHAT HE WANTS
Heiji can pick up, very faintly, something twisting. A sense of wrongness, magic maybe, but in either case the glare he earns is too intense. Muted gold turns to bright yellow and cat slit pupils in a heartbeat and he's leeching information, this is not his Place, removal is advised.
-But then he shuffles papers around and the magic is jossed off in the wave of stupid.
"At least organize them by year! Don't touch them if you're not helping!" It's irresponsible and pushing more work on people who are actually working and it's dishonoring that by continuing to be irresponsible and pushing more work on people, but unfortunately it only comes out with a snap of 'oh hey look at me im crazy'.
Ugh. Fae.
"An' just let her blow up the door. It's none of your business if she gets 'er ass kicked."
no subject
"By the year the case started or the year it ended?" Whichever it was supposed to be, Heiji was now doing the opposite while simultaneously wondering what was up with the sudden accent.
"I woulda thought you'd be concerned about one of your fellow hunters getting their asses kicked. That's real cold."
no subject
Mostly because he needs to go over them a second time for subsection organizing. A small bit because he doesn't trust Heiji.
EIther way, the latter concerns are ignored. "They're not my hunters."
no subject
"So who are your hunters?"
no subject
Why are his ears ringing? That's annoying. That means a migraine's going to start soon, ah, what a pain in the ass, but that's Normal so it's Okay. Just stop thinking about it for a little while. Paperwork is a pretty mindless task to begin with. Nothing is wrong here at all. Except how Wrong he is, so very Wrong, you should kill him- wait, no, Heiji's annoying sometimes but he's pretty okay? Murder is overreacting here. Even if he deserves it? Shit.
The papers aren't even looked up from, but in the span of a second it's like watching an illusion in the guise of a humanoid. Shaking hand movements, monotone speech, but most importantly those harsh eyes and the harsher presence have returned.
"You do not have the authorization for that question."
no subject
"You're filin' that wrong. That's an addendum to an earlier case."
no subject
Wait, he did what wrong? The entire odd presence flips off in a heartbeat by the sheer look of panic he gets. Shit shit shit shit, dishonor on his family, dishonor on everyone who's talked to him- the mistake gets quickly fixed.
"That didn't happen." The crazy bit, o "Only interns make stupid filing errors."
Ignore that he is, technically, an intern.
no subject
"Interns, right. You do give them a stipend at least, right? It's hard out there for a student." Maybe he'd pick at this a bit, ask Aradia if she'd noticed any weirdness. He'd seen a lot of bizarre magical afflictions floating around, but this one seemed almost like a separate presence, imprinted on its owner.
no subject
"They get a hazard pay bonus to compensate the chance of death." No pings at all to speak of, but it might count as an oddity of itself to be able to say things like that with a straight face. There's a momentary pause in the sorting. Catching it as weird.
"Back home at least."
Almost weird.
no subject
"Back home?" Heiji kept getting the distinct impression that to Will, London was temporary.
D Cause we need an aftermath thread
Tracking him down was easy enough. Once he had someone's blood in his system, their scent was permanently etched into his mind. Cooper was waiting, leaning up against a street lamp with a halo of light surrounding him as the hunter turned the corner. His face looked quite grim and completely unlike his usual cocky smile. "I've been lookin' for you."
Back from canadadada. Also A+ yes
There'd be more annoyance here, maybe more of an attempt to dredge up the fury he should be feeling after getting drained by a tiny Irish jackass. Alas. It's the end of the work week and every paper pusher in existence just wants to go home and cease existing for two days. The last fucks to give were spent on demons far worse than Cooper.
So Cooper doesn't get anything. No anger, no sass, not even a terrible snap at his expense. Just Will walking past without slowing down, ruining whatever confrontation Cooper had been gearing himself up for.
Sorry bro. "And you found me. Walk and complain, thanks."
no subject
"You're gonna try 'n outwalk a vampire? Really?" Short legs or no, he can do this all night long. Vampiric speed has its perks.