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

[viduation]

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] )

Comments

A

[whatmatters]

[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.

[viduation]

[ there are certain smells that Derek, knowing as many hunters as he has, has come to memorize. subtle though they are, he recognizes things like metal, like a gun that was fired not so long ago. these things put him on edge, but they also pique his curiosity, make him more likely to talk. Derek's eyes flick sidewards to regard her. she's not watching him, the way he's come to expect from hunters. she's also younger than he'd expect.

it's not enough to make Derek give her the full benefit of the doubt - he is much too cautious for that. but it does make him relax a little. ]

Sure - if you could use a sugar hit.

sorry ringer fails at small talk I should have predicted this

[whatmatters]

Great. [Her lips quirk up at the ends, the smallest hint of a smile. She reaches past him to grab her own box from the shelf, giving him a short nod in acknowledgment of the recommendation.] If I fall asleep in class, I know who to blame.

[It's a lighthearted comment, though said dryly enough that there might be some truth to it. Hard to tell. Ringer slips past him deeper into the shop, seeking out the specific black licorice nibs that she likes, imported from The Netherlands. The guy's attractive, but her admittedly bad attempt at conversation yielded little results and she knows she's not great at small talk. Instead, it seems easier to cut her losses and leave him to continue his day in peace.]