undergrounds | 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] )

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ he really hates this. her voice doesn’t flit around like he’s surrounded - there’s a very definite direction, a source that moves around him. but there’s no sight, no scent to betray her. eventually, Derek has to exercise force of will to make himself stop trying to find a trace of her. he focuses on some indistinct point on the wall straight ahead, in a bid to quell his own nervous energy. it’s not as effective as he’d like.

somewhere between the cold and the disembodied voice, Derek starts to think, but then she says personal victim. for a split-second, he has no idea what she means, and then it sinks in and he’s swallowing hard. the implication makes him feel ill. ]

My sister. It’s my sister. I need to know if you can find her - talk to her... [ or something, the way his voice trails off seems to say. Derek’s not out of his depth right now so much as he’s drowning. ]

[ Oh.

Oh no.

Aradia immediately falls silent, the illusion of confidence she'd projected shattering at his reply, and instinctively the ghostly chill creeps in to fill the space around her like a bubble. She'd been so prepared to accept danger that she forgot to think about what it actually meant. ]

Edited 2015-06-18 16:04 (UTC)

[ When she speaks again, it's from a point in front of Derek, not too far into the room. The circling has stopped.

But now that she's ceased her pacing, it's apparent how incredibly tactless her prying became. The little details filter in, one after another - how uncomfortable he sounds, how he's politely waited since entering her haunt. Coming clean up front when she insinuated that he'd killed who he's looking for.

'sister, it's my sister'. Damara didn't even come to her funeral. ]

There's not many of us around, so I can't really promise anything. But I could try. [ It's quiet, calmer. Not quite an apology, but an attempt to move past it regardless. ] Ghosts tend to leave a mark if you know where to look.

[ the space becomes so, so quiet, that Derek looks around again, the silence agitating him. it seems, almost, that whoever - whatever - was speaking to him has abandoned him here. frustrated and unsettled, he's on the verge of leaving, turning on heel when he hears her voice and snaps back around to face her.

us, she says, and it all clicks into place, his roving, sharp curiosity knitting into the conclusion right as the words come. he swallows hard, staring at the nothingness in front of him and understanding it. he's less irritated by the revelation than he thinks he might have been. instead, he struggles to define how he feels. but that's nothing new to him, and he ignores it. the mounting number of questions coming to mind go unsaid: she's giving him something, however little it might be, and he intends to make the most of it. ]

Where would that be?

Graveyards, mostly.

[ She can tell the moment it falls into place - when questions turn to focus and the sudden realization of what she is hits, and the disappointment is evident. Not that she could've done much even when she was alive, but it still feels like she's letting this odd stranger down and that's unacceptable. ]

We tend to linger near places that were important. Strong memories, where we died, that sort of thing. And even that's assuming the ghost wants to stay.

[ 'We', now that he's worked it out, feels more appropriate. But just that alone doesn't feel like enough, and there's a moment of hesitation as Aradia takes a gamble. ] I could help you look, if you wanted. I can cover a lot of ground and I'm still good at digging around. And that way you wouldn't have to look alone.

[ graveyards. it's difficult to think about. his pack had dug the graves themselves, in a quiet, shady part of the mill grounds, but Derek had been the one to spiral the rope, to plant the wolfsbane to bind them. forcing himself to look past the tidal wave of grief, he focuses instead on what she's telling him. it might not be much, but it's something, and that's more than he had.

would Laura want to stay? is it selfish for him to hope so?

gaze dragged up again by the sound of her voice, he stares at the direction she seems to be standing in, a wary frown contorting his mouth. ]

And how would I pay you for that? It doesn't exactly seem like cash in hand is going to work.

You don't have to. I want to help.

[ Aradia's reply is automatic, and entirely practical - she has no need for anything tangible now, occasional well-meaning gifts aside, and regardless it feels wrong to expect anything for a service like this. No ghost deserves to suffer alone, and if helping puts him at ease then it's no issue to her.

Which explains why she'd never gotten much work, really. People are inherently suspicious of a job done for free.

Something occurs to her a moment later, though, and its an awkward thing to ask. Except it's also important and might serve to ease the tension, so... crap. ]

But... if I'm really going to do this, can I use your phone for a second? [ She actually sounds sheepish as she watches Derek carefully for a reaction. ] A friend asked me to let him know before I did anything potentially stupid and/or dangerous, and I don't have one installed here anymore.

[ his eyebrows raise in a genuine show of surprise, the kinds that writes itself on his face with a slackened mouth and widened eyes. he's quick to smooth the expression away, setting himself into something firmer, more steady, more like how he wants to feel when hope prickles in his chest. naturally, he's made suspicious by the offer - but less so than he would be faced with a living, breathing human. maybe that's racist. or xenophobic. but Derek is moved by how willingly she responds.

at least, until the request comes. he frowns at her, dubious. ]

You need to call someone. [ on a cell phone. deadpan, he reaches into his jacket, where his phone is kept generally neglected.

he's suspicious, yes, but it feels like a small price to pay and Derek is not exactly patient. he holds it out to her. ]

Text, actually. My voice doesn't reliably pick up on mics anymore, which makes conversations pretty one-sided. So text is easier.

[ She's still watching him as he offers the phone, noting the quick switch from surprise to skepticism at her request - it is a rather silly thing to ask, truth be told, and bringing it up makes her feel like an idiot. But part of her deal with Mystery Dude was to keep him in the loop, and... well, there's always a chance that something might go wrong. It's safer to have someone she (mostly) trusts aware of her plans.

Besides. Grumpy here looks like he needs friends, and Aradia knows Mystery Dude has no social life. Maybe they'll hit it off. ]

I promise I won't damage it. [ Much. Derek's reputation could take a hit if her well-meaning warning goes off the rails, but mentioning that would be counter-productive. Whoops. ] I'm just letting a friend know I'll be wandering further than usual. So he doesn't worry like an idiot and come looking for me.

[ She wasn't really intending to play the sympathy card, the remark having slipped out as she edged forward-across-into the phone, but if it ends up helping then so much the better. And it might do something to ease the pain of the entirely unremarkable text war that occurred over the next minute or so in the humble confines of Derek's phone bill. ]

( ooc: Hey, I'm... really sorry about how late this reply was. If you're not down for continuing the thread, I completely understand! )

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

no subject

1/2

2/2

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject