undergrounds | I'm fairly local; I've been around (OPEN)

Entry tags:

I'm fairly local; I've been around (OPEN)

A. DAY:

[ creature of the night he may be, Derek's life is far from nocturnal. admittedly, this is partially because he sleeps less than he probably ought to, especially these days. however, it's also because even in London, there are places that aren't 24/7. yet. a bank. a decent mechanic. somewhere that sells smores flavoured pop tarts. combined with his own restlessness, and a sense that he still doesn't quite belong, Derek is unable to hang around at the den all day.

when he's out, he's watchful. even on the streets of the city centre, Derek has come to learn that he can't afford to overlook anything. perhaps it's an inhuman kind of scent that has his gaze catching, lingering, or perhaps a face he recognizes from the Redbright ball has him staring in heavy, curious scrutiny. maybe he simply has to squeeze past the same PETA collector on the street, muttering something about no goddamn escape. ]

B. NIGHT:

[ after the sun sets, Derek retreats to his own territory. generally speaking, he's not looking for a fight, and lurking around other areas of London at night is sometimes as much a provocation as is necessary. he keeps to the east end, hemming along every county line like a sentry, watching - waiting, maybe - for any suggestion that things are not as they should be on his turf. his. he'd never considered it in those terms when he'd been following Laura's lead, when there had been another alpha running things. aside from an inherent wolfish sense of territory, he'd felt little investment. now, his position has changed, but the disconnect here lingers. in the wake of his own hasty decision making, he still feels like he's standing in. that only makes him all the more tense.

and all the more eager to work. he covers a surprising amount of distance on foot, keeps his ear to the ground to keep track of what's going on. maybe it's quiet. maybe it's not. but he stays out late.

if, on his unofficial patrol, he comes across something or someone that seems like they shouldn't be here - well, Derek follows. ]

C. CHOOSE YOUR OWN ADVENTURE!

( catch all! feel free to tag in with your own starter - just give me a heads up if you're looking for anything in particular - or let me know if you'd like a specific heading! 8] )

Threaded | Flat

[ as they head down and down flights of stairs, the head further and further away from the top floors, where wide windows would later spill moonlight across the floor. without the telltale silver illuminating the place, it could feel like the full moon mattered no more to them than it did to anyone else in London. right now, when the outside sky is still dusky and the moon is yet to rise, Derek could almost believe as much. but even his control isn't ironclad.

nor is the - is his pack's, and so he's retreating down with the rest of them. he doesn't need to. the idea of being penned up - in a basement no less, he thinks, and hears Kate laughing - isn't comforting, or remotely pleasant. he could wait upstairs for the night to be over. but this is security and this is solidarity, and Derek knows enough to see both as necessary, even if he counts himself as needing them less. he remembers his mother doing the same, at least, and the memory of her is sound enough to work off.

and besides, they all radiate the same nervous, angry energy right now. maybe there's comfort in that.

he glances over at Eren. ]

Come on. Do I need to get a sign about loitering?

[ amongst his list of errands are things like get car mot checked and pick up milk, with an addendum to add soy because apparently even werewolves are vegan sometimes. there's a note for more shirts because he's recently lost a bunch of them to fighting, and then, nestled somewhere between pick up laundry and gas is find medium with a penciled address and a space where ask about dead sister could have been. he'd been reluctant to add anything about this Aradia to the list, reluctant to pursue what sounds like an absolutely frigging stupid idea in the first place.

but, here he is, stalking down the street towards the address. after hearing the suggestion, he'd tried to put it from his mind. it was stupid. this was a whole new level of desperate. but his well of information had run dry, and thinking about the way Laura would laugh at him for all this only pushed him towards going in the end.

that he gets a weird look from someone on his way to Aradia's door does not go unnoticed, but he ignores it stubbornly, and knocks. ]

[ Sasuke's perfectly familiar with the phrase 'knows just enough to be dangerous' but apparently has little respect for the wisdom and caution it actually carries with it. It's not been long now since he's been introduced to the Underground proper, unaware of the existence of the supernatural until only very recently, and his response to that has been his own private series of investigations into whys and hows.

Which is exactly why he finds himself in this particular district so late at night, playing the part of a casual observer in a pub for some time in order to gather information for himself or potentially to pass it along to other interested parties at Hillingdon, before leaving even later and starting the journey home on his own. He stops at his first sense of being watched, turning on his heel to catch a glimpse of a figure just past the streetlight. ]

... What do you want?

There was definitely something that shouldn't be there. On the rooftop of a building along the inside of the county line was a black-furred fox as big as a dining table. It had six tails, which waved slowly in the night breeze.

Heiji had been lured here by the rooftop garden that someone had set up here. It was really quite nice. With his nose, he poked at a morning glory that had closed for the night.

If only it didn't smell like gross wolf around here...

[Ringer is sleep deprived and distracted, having been chasing a newborn vampire around for the last several nights. Her meeting with the older vamp is still lingering on her mind, as is her promise not to hunt the newborn until he kills again. Every night since, she wanders and listens for trouble, waiting for the inevitable. With all that crazy excitement and way too little sleep, it becomes difficult to buckle down and pay attention in class. She has one down and one to go in a couple hours, which allows her the perfect amount of time to go buy some sugar and maybe grab a proper meal.

The girl slips into the small specialty foods shop without fuss, casually browsing. While the casual onlooker would have no clue, a particularly observant person might notice the handgun holstered at the small of her back, hidden beneath shirt, jacket, and backpack. Silver bullets.

She steps up beside the man to browse, oblivious to who or what he is. Ringer can't help but notice the box of Pop-Tarts in his hand.] Are those any good? The Smores.

( continued from here )

As she approaches, Derek realizes that he has very little plan for how to proceed, for how to speak with her. He has only ever seen her as a coyote, and the effect is jarring - despite knowing that he isn't dealing with a mere animal, it's more difficult than it ought to be to see her as anything else. For a moment, he wonders if he shouldn't crouch down, get on her level. She's not that animal. He can tell. Lingering on her fur are human scents: detergent, soap. She's not a coyote all the time. Just most of it.

Briefly, Derek berates himself for being an idiot, who should have come up with a plan, if not several plans, before closing the distance. As it is, he's woefully unprepared for a potential family reunion. That thought makes his stomach lurch unpleasantly. He could be looking at his cousin now. In the sharp intelligence lurking in those animal eyes, is there some semblance of Peter's old cleverness?

His hands tense, relax. Realizing he's been standing here staring at the shifter for way too long, he rolls his shoulders and resolves himself to do something. That he is nervous doesn't register with him, isn't the type of thing he usually appreciates, but it's nerves that drive him to over-thinking, to questioning.

But she came close. That's a good sign.

In the end, it's the thought of oh my god, do anything that forces him to speak.

"Don't you have better options?"

Hi, cousin.

[There's the sound of a motorcycle as it comes roaring up the street. The teenager perched atop of it handles it with ease despite his small stature. He periodically stops and lifts the goggles off of his head. He steps off the bike and puts the kickstand in place. Cooper looks around, eyes and nose both searching for someone that he doesn't find. He looks both disappointed and tired.

Then it's back on the bike. He turns down the next street and repeats the same process. It promises to be a long night for the vampire. So intent is he on his task that he never even realizes how close he's getting to werewolf territory.]

The night was quiet mostly the sounds of cars in the distance broken only by the occasional car closer to the border between Havering and the East End Pack's territory. A nearby streetlamp flickered and then burnt out dropping the area into a pool of darkness. After a few minutes, almost like a trick of light, one of the plate glass shop windows seemed to take on a luminescence. It rippled into blues and greens starting so dark it was almost impossible to see and then beginning to glow brighter until light shifted through the surface enough to spill out onto the sidewalk below and as it did, frost started forming. Around the edges of the window it crackled downward in lovely bursts and fleurettes, small puddles from an earlier cleaning cracking suddenly into ice. The surface of the glass rippled again and a woman stepped through, gracefully but with an ease that seemed as though people commonly walked through plate glass windows that glowed. As she stepped through the scent of fresh snow spilled out and the air turned suddenly so cold that between the new coldness and the old heat of summer, fog congealed, spilling around her feet. Once she was through the window the colors dimmed and the door closed, slowly resolving itself back into a standard storefront with mannequins in the window and safety lights behind it.

Her gaze was almost eerie, eyes lambent in the darkness, the pale skin almost seemed to glow as well. She smoothed her hands down what seemed to be a sort of evening gown that looked off in this quiet part of town where no apparent galas were occurring. It looked odd as well because it was difficult to tell where dress and long hair ended and fog began. If the fact that she seemed out of place bothered her you wouldn't be able to tell it, instead she spent a moment taking in the area, breathing in once but rather than relying on a sense of smell (and really what good could that possibly be in a place like London that was rife with every smell imaginable, unless you were built for such things) she instead seemed to be sensing with something else. In this case she let her magic twist out with the fog, checking for hostility or anything of interest. This was a part of the area some of her associates had described as being uncontested as of yet and it was important to know what it was you were expecting to assist in taking over. Not the werewolf territory but that territory next door.

Threaded | Flat

EREN.

ARADIA.

B, I told you I'd be here

B

A

MALIA

B

C - Moonlight Jewelry y/n?

B