Dr. Simon O'Neill (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
protagonized) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
undergrounds2015-10-09 10:41 am
protagonized) wrote in undergrounds2015-10-09 10:41 am
Entry tags:
#notallshapeshifters
Dates: October 6 and 8.
What: Simon tries to keep his head down.
[ooc: This is a completely open post! Come torment him.]
Covent Garden - Late Evening
Starbucks closed at ten most evenings, and given Simon's class schedule he tended to work closing shifts. That suited him just fine. During peak tourist season it tended to be crowded late at night, but weeknights were almost pleasant now that they were well into October. Tonight, the shop was almost deserted, save for a table of Korean tourists off in a corner, and they'd been nursing their drinks and chatting for over an hour now. Simon was thoroughly bored. He snuck a peek at the phone he'd secreted away in his apron pocket: 21:22. Only forty more minutes until he could kick them out and start closing up shop. Only an hour and a half until he could go home and start drafting that Craigslist ad for a new flatmate.
Only eight hours until he had to wake up and be back in the lab.
He sighed and went back to watching the door, hoping no one else came in.
Redbright Institute - Mid-morning
Simon could have been doing any number of things right now--first and foremost among them being sleeping--but for some reason he found himself drawn to Redbright Institute. His feelings about the place were ambivalent at best; sure, they'd helped him through a particularly tough time in his life, but he still found the place intensely weird and a bit uncomfortable. All logic said that magic shouldn't exist outside of fantasy novels and Disney films, and yet here it was. In London.
He strolled through the library, looking for volumes on shapeshifting. He knew there was plenty of lore about people with his particular condition going back centuries, but what he wanted was something that treated the subject a little more objectively. He needed a history.
Simon paused at a likely volume. Maybe this one, finally, contained the answers he was looking for.
What: Simon tries to keep his head down.
[ooc: This is a completely open post! Come torment him.]
Covent Garden - Late Evening
Starbucks closed at ten most evenings, and given Simon's class schedule he tended to work closing shifts. That suited him just fine. During peak tourist season it tended to be crowded late at night, but weeknights were almost pleasant now that they were well into October. Tonight, the shop was almost deserted, save for a table of Korean tourists off in a corner, and they'd been nursing their drinks and chatting for over an hour now. Simon was thoroughly bored. He snuck a peek at the phone he'd secreted away in his apron pocket: 21:22. Only forty more minutes until he could kick them out and start closing up shop. Only an hour and a half until he could go home and start drafting that Craigslist ad for a new flatmate.
Only eight hours until he had to wake up and be back in the lab.
He sighed and went back to watching the door, hoping no one else came in.
Redbright Institute - Mid-morning
Simon could have been doing any number of things right now--first and foremost among them being sleeping--but for some reason he found himself drawn to Redbright Institute. His feelings about the place were ambivalent at best; sure, they'd helped him through a particularly tough time in his life, but he still found the place intensely weird and a bit uncomfortable. All logic said that magic shouldn't exist outside of fantasy novels and Disney films, and yet here it was. In London.
He strolled through the library, looking for volumes on shapeshifting. He knew there was plenty of lore about people with his particular condition going back centuries, but what he wanted was something that treated the subject a little more objectively. He needed a history.
Simon paused at a likely volume. Maybe this one, finally, contained the answers he was looking for.
no subject
"They can't. Some really powerful ones maintain some of their control in wolf form, but others... They don't know anyone. If they're not chained in, they will attack anything in their paths."
no subject
And then he was gone and their conversation could continue.
"You've seen it." It's a statement, not a question.
no subject
She still hadn't gotten used to the noises below her. Hearing those screams of transformation and the snapping and howling of the wolves that were kept there. And there was always blood.
Whether it was animal or human... she never asked. She just always helped clean it up while her brothers and father recovered.
"Saw 'em. As wolves. An' they lunged. Didn' know who I was. Not their fault. Jus' th' way it is."
no subject
"Jesus."
There was more to the story, of course. They barely knew each other; he didn't expect that Skip would open up completely on a first date. But there was enough there that he knew the weight of what she wasn't telling him.
"I'm sorry," seemed a stupid thing to say in light of that, but it slipped out anyway.
no subject
She'd learned a lot that night. Seen her brothers and fathers as less than perfect, realised that they were as dangerous as anything else in the world. Of course, after seeing that... Well. Nothing had happened then.
So, she hadn't had much cause to fear anything else in the world.
"That's my sob story," she said with a laugh, shrugging her shoulders. "Everybody's got at least one, y'know?"
no subject
His own sob story was far less dramatic, of course, but it also had effected him deeply.
"Is this the point where we retreat into awkward silence until I bring up the football?"
no subject
Far better to shrug it all off. Let none of it matter in the slightest.
no subject
Still, they fell into another awkward silence, and Simon felt his anxiety ramping up again. He liked her--liked her more than he thought was possible, given their unconventional first meeting, but everything he said seemed to fall a bit flat.
He really was rubbish at this whole dating thing.
"How did your meeting with Mrs. Redbright go?"
no subject
"Went pretty good. Promised her a painting an' had t' deliver it."
no subject
"You paint?" Simon asked, interested. "That's great! Do you have any pictures of your work on you?"
no subject
It wasn't something she talked too much about, but things like it came up. Still... this might be a good way to get at least one more body in the door. He might have friends to invite too.
"Y'know, a place nearby is havin' a bit of a show. Local artists an' all, y'know. Got a few pieces gonna be there."
no subject
"I'd like to see that. When is the show?"
He noticed that Skip's wine glass was getting low and reached for the bottle to top it up. It was surprisingly light. Had they really had that much to drink in so short a time?
And where was the food, anyway?
no subject
It was a chance to get her name and work known a bit better. Plus he wasn't bad to spend time with. This would be boring with anyone. She'd done it before and still had no idea what people saw in all of it.
When he topped off her glass, she gave a grin and took it up, holding it just a little.
"To new friends."
no subject
"Cheers."
To new friends and hopefully something more...