see the world through my own eyes [OPEN]

[whatmatters]

A) HILLINGDON HOUSE

Ringer didn't particularly frequent the House. It was the sort of destination she only recalled when she needed something, be that information, work, or a random need to connect with something beyond her own life. University and her private hunting kept her busy often enough that it could be isolating at times and while she wasn't one to mind the time to herself, the girl knew that she stood a better chance of survival if she had more allies. Besides, sometimes it was nice to spend time with people who could hold a conversation about vampires, witches, and the other allegedly fictitious creatures of the night.

She ran a hand through her hair, a perfunctory gesture to push it out of her face, and took a seat off to the side by the wall. One of the counselors at her old school said she would probably continue to want her back to a wall for quite some time, called it Post Traumatic Stress. The woman may have been right. Ringer considered it a logical and safer choice in places that might be less than friendly. Still, she had taken to talking to strangers and acquaintances alike, trying to follow that whole 'no man is an island' practice. For that reason, she glanced up to the person who seemed unoccupied and offered a simple, "Hey."

B) DARK ALLEYS AND DEAD BODIES

Ringer was an intelligent person. Unfortunately, she was also fairly new at this whole hunting thing and made more mistakes than she'd care to acknowledge. When she came upon a dead body in central vampire territory, it never occurred to her that it would be anything other than a supernatural death and supernatural creatures to deal with. Crouching over the body, she turned the young woman's head and pushed her hair back, examining her neck for the telltale injury. Except there wasn't one. Turning the body over completely, she found the mark instead on the woman's breast and rolled her eyes at the cliche, gloved fingers tugging the clothing to cover in a more chaste fashion.

It wasn't until she heard sirens suddenly roar to life not far away, her black gloves covered in blood, that it occurred to her how bad this might look. She stood from the body, frozen with momentary panic, wondering if she should stay and admit to finding the body or if she should bolt and hope there were no witnesses to her presence here.

C) LIBRARY RESEARCH

The London Library was known for its vast resources, one of the largest such public institutions in the whole of the country. It was here that Ringer went to conduct her latest research, seated at one of the many long tables and absorbed in her own world despite the people wandering by. At least she had the table to herself at present.

It was a two birds with one stone kind of day, her homework from uni scattered in front of her with her laptop to the right, while the research she had yet to do stood in stacks both on her left and in the center of the table. She was nearly finished studying for her exam on psychology, at which point she could switch to studying the horde of archive clippings on mass deaths from the London area stretching back the last 20 or so years.

Unless, of course, someone decided to interrupt.

Comments

A

[anniesgonemad]

Annie was unoccupied, but that didn't mean she was responsive. She'd come to the house for her own research, looking up nests around where the Fourth District had been. Anything to try to hunt down those responsible for the massacre, and for ruining her life. Unfortunately, such research came with a lot of awful images, and even worse, flashbacks. This forced Annie into an uncomfortable head space, and it wasn't long before she found herself back at the school, covered in blood that wasn't hers.

In the library, where Ringer had just entered, Annie sat at one of the desks, her own back to the wall, looking straight ahead. One hand was entrenched in her tangled red hair, pulling at it. The other dug into her leg in a failed last attempt to help ground her before she went away completely.

Eyes unfocused, she wasn't even aware that Ringer was speaking, only that there was so much blood and death around her.

[whatmatters]

It was an automatic gesture to scan any room she entered. It had been for a long time now. Normally it was to gain a sense of where everyone was, who might be a threat, and where the exits were. It was automatic and rarely lead to much conscious thought, a way to register information in the brain without more than a few seconds' effort. This time, however, something caught her eye and Ringer's attention was focused on the girl sitting not far away.

The woman was staring, not at anything in the room, but past all of the tangible objects back into her own mind. Although impossible to recognize or pinpoint precisely what the problem was, Ringer knew without question that something was wrong. She set her bag on the corner of the table and approached the woman slowly, speaking from a distance. "Hey. Are you okay? Can you tell me your name?"

[anniesgonemad]

Ringer won't get a response from Annie. Not for a few moments at least. Her nails were practically puncturing her jeans, her knuckles white. The hand in her hair was pulling, letting the weight of her arm hang down, doing the pulling for her.

There were words, she could hear them, a young woman speaking. Slowly, she turned to her, eyes wide and unfocused. The girl was speaking to her. Asking a question. But she couldn't find the meaning behind them, find her own words. So all Ringer is going to get in response is a shake of her head.

[whatmatters]

Ringer waits patiently, taking one slow step forward and then another. She remains out of the woman's reach, conscious of the possibility of being attacked. The questions are repeated, trying to allow the woman's attention to come back to the present and wondering what trauma might have caused this kind of disconnect. It made her angry at whoever or whatever had been responsible.

"Okay," she acquiesces to the shaking of the other woman's head. Ringer glances around the space before looking at the woman again. "You're safe here. It's the library. No one here is going to hurt you. I won't let them."

[anniesgonemad]

That she understood fully. No one was going to hurt her. This woman wouldn't let them. Okay. That was... that was good. Though how long could anyone last, was the question? She'd seen so many capable people taken out by vampires.

"Safe," Annie repeats softly, after what feels like an eternity of trying to find her words. She looks at the other woman, her eyes still unfocused.

[whatmatters]

Ringer resists the urge to sigh and easily tempers her own impatience. Her restlessness is aimed at whoever is responsible, after all, not the woman herself. She crouches down to roughly Annie's seated height, a little shorter, to bring her closer to eye level.

"Safe," she reiterates. "I know what it's like to see terrible things. But you're not there anymore. This place is safe."

[anniesgonemad]

"Terrible things." The more words she can grab on to, the closer she is to coming back to the present, to being able to recognize the library, and ask the woman in front of her her name. But right now, she's focused on those terrible things, the blood and death and those fangs sinking into her neck.

She lets out a strangled cry and pushes herself backwards against the desk, against the wall.

"They'll get in!" She gasps, "can't invite them in, no no no." The school had been public property.

[whatmatters]

Ringer tenses, ready to leap up and either fight or run as needed. Instead, the woman seems to withdraw and Ringer heaves the smallest silent sigh of relief that it seems not to be escalating to a point of physical confrontation. She's never been great with people. The traumatized ones are somehow easier, but she doesn't know exactly how to talk to them and only hopes she doesn't make things worse.

Vampires. The woman has been a spectator or, more likely, a victim of the creatures. It's no wonder she's scared, especially if she knew nothing of vampires before being attacked. And surviving. "No one invited them. There are a dozen people here who would kill anyone that tried to attack."

[anniesgonemad]

She wouldn't hurt her. Not without a reason, and so far, Ringer hadn't given Annie any sort. The monsters were in her head, however.

"Uninvited," she said softly, nodding. "Good- good- there were lots last time." Lots of capable hunters in her school. "Won't stop them, if they get in." The entire school had been over-powered. It had been an attack a long-time coming, a long-time planned, but how was Annie to know that? "Didn't stop them last time."

B

[thelittlemerman]

Finnick can make himself very quiet. It's a skill he's developed since being free. He's seen when he wants to be and next to invisible when he doesn't. That's how he sneaks up right behind Ringer.

He doesn't know who or what she is, but there's a dead body and he knows there was a vampire nearby here recently. This particular vampire has made meals of a few fae and Finnick's determined to put a stop to it, which is why he's out here with his trident which he's now pointing at Ringer's back.

"Don't move," he says, quiet and steady.

[whatmatters]

Ringer doesn't. The sirens are gaining volume, meaning they're still on the way and whoever is behind her either thinks she's a vampire or, worse, is a good samaritan in way over their heads. Slowly, very slowly, she lifts her hands above her shoulders, fingers splayed and empty. She makes no motion to turn around, knowing that whoever it is will be either angry, afraid, or both, and hopes that the gun holstered at the small of her back remains hidden by her jacket and backpack.

"I didn't hurt this woman. I found the body and I turned her over to see if she was still alive." Her voice is level, though there's an edge of genuine worry. "Look at the wounds on her body, under the edge of her neckline. She was bitten by something."

[thelittlemerman]

She's human, which at least means she's not going to catch a sense of his blood and attack, but he's not quick to trust anyone, even other fae. He lowers his weapon however, and his tone becomes less threatening. "You can turn around now," he says. He almost looks like he could be a hunter, with his dark jeans and leather jacket, but the trident in his hand implies that something a little more complicated is going on.

After giving Ringer a moment, he looks down at the dead woman and back up again. "Did you see what bit her?"

Humans can be so clueless sometimes. Some of them don't even know there are monsters hiding among them.

[whatmatters]

Ringer turns slowly. Her eyes first take in the man - attractive, charming to an immediately unnerving level - and then his weapon: a trident. He's already proven himself to be too intelligent and of sound mind to be insane, so she has to assume he's a hunter, a fae, or something like it. No one carries a trident.

She drops her hands to her sides again, not reaching for her weapon and hoping that, at least for now, she has no reason to do so. Dark jeans, black jacket. They almost match. For some reason, she feels like that might not be a good thing.

"I found the body," she reiterated. Then, taking a slight risk, she added, "Whoever bit her is gone."

[thelittlemerman]

Finnick raises an eyebrow at her. Who, she said. It's a clue that she knows what's going on, unlike most of the oblivious humans in this city, but he doesn't quite know for sure. He doesn't respect the law of the Night Council, but he's interested in protecting the secrecy of the fae, so it's not enough to reveal himself just yet.

The sirens are blaring louder, and Finnick takes his eyes off Ringer just long enough to glance past her at the entrance of the alley. "We should go," he says. "This could look pretty bad for you."

[whatmatters]

That the man doesn't question her 'who' in place of 'what' all but confirms her suspicions that he's aware of the supernatural. When he suggests that they go, trying to save her from dealing with the police, it's more weight into the column of his likely being a fellow hunter. Although his inclusion of them together has her wondering if he means for them to talk more or if it's only a simplification of language.

"Yeah." Ringer nods. Then she turns and starts down the alley behind her, away from the sirens. Partially to test his attitude, partially to test his skills, and partially because she doesn't know how far out the police actually are, she breaks into a run. She's graceful and well trained, not the fastest by any means, but she moves smoothly and at the pace of a decent athlete or soldier. If he follows, she'll make no effort to lose him. If he doesn't, she'll simply continue on her way.

[thelittlemerman]

Finnick's a good runner. He slips his trident into a holster on his back and takes off after her, though he's significantly more casual. He could just open a door and escape, but he wants to ask her more questions and he doesn't know where she's going. By the time she stops, he's not far behind, and he's not even out of breath.

He checks behind them to make sure no one's following, and looks around to make sure no one's eavesdropping in. "So... you just found that body, did you?"

[whatmatters]

Ringer stops on the edge of a park when it's clear that they're no longer being pursued. She slipped the gloves from her hands and pocketed them along the way to hide obvious visible evidence of her involvement with the body. The hunter's in almost peak condition for someone her age, at least when it comes to running. When she finally turns to look at him, she's breathing heavily but clearly not worn.

It doesn't make sense for him to have followed her, not after saving her from the cops. Ringer runs a number of scenarios in her head as she makes a show of catching her breath, wondering if he's intending to kill her or wants to help, what race he is, and what his occupation is. It's possible she misjudged initially. After a moment, she straightens in order to reply.

"Yes." Simple as that. She has no reason to lie in this case. "Why did you follow me?"

why not c for a change in scenery? :')a

[reticence]

Faolan's not exactly the type to frequent the library. Then again, Faolan's not exactly the type to frequent much of anywhere. And he's trying to keep a low profile, now that he's undercover. Doesn't want to be seen too much around Hillingdon, doesn't want to raise too many suspicions, doesn't want too many people to know who he is or what business he might be doing. It puts rather a damper on the places he can go and things he can do during the day, however. Especially since most of the people he knows are either involved in Hillingdon or the Night Council.

And so he finds himself doing more walking, taking in the sights. Buying a lot of coffee. Perhaps too much, if the shaking that's starting up in his hands is anything to go by. As he walks by the library, he decides why not go in. Something to do, somewhere to go. Idly wandering around, doesn't expect to find anyone he might recognize inside. So when he does, it's a welcome surprise.

"Psychology," Faolan drawls, reading over her shoulder. "That's some light reading there, that is..."

[whatmatters]

Ringer's hand snatches a heavy book from the stack, an automatic reaction to someone sneaking up on her and very close to using it to hit him. Luckily, recognition dawns somewhere in the process and she lets go of the book and instead turns around with only a halfhearted glare at her recent ally. It surprises her to see him in a place like this and her eyes dart around to ensure they can't be overheard before she gestures for him to sit at the end of the table near her, if he wants.

"I'm enrolled in university," she replies dryly. Ringer reaches forward to close her laptop, in case her real name might be visible. It's a force of habit, oblivious to the fact that he knows it already. "Why are you here?"

[reticence]

Faolan raises his eyebrows at the question (and at the way that she's closed her laptop to protect her privacy from him -- she does remember he's been at her house, does she not? He'll have seen a lot more private business there already than he'd ever find reading her school work over her shoulder, he's sure).

"Can't a man frequent a public place without raising suspicion?" he asks her, with a pointed stare, before tugging the chair out of the table beside her and dropping down into it. "I was in the area. It was something to do. Not my usual, to be true, but a way to spend the time. I suppose you don't believe in coincidences either, but it's the truth."

[whatmatters]

She hates that expression of his. The man seems perpetually skeptical of her. Not of anything she says or does, but of her as a person. As if her personality itself causes him to question. She wonders if the fact that it annoys her is evidence of her coming to trust his judgments in some small way. The thought is easily dismissed.

"I believe you." Ringer lifts a hand to tuck her hair back behind her ear, her mind already calculating how much time she can afford to be distracted before needing to return to her studies. It's been some time since she's seen Faolan though and some part of her worried a little bit that he was dead. In spite of herself, she doesn't like the idea of always being alone. "Can you stay over tonight? There's a vampire who knows where I live. I don't know if he wants me dead."

[reticence]

Faolan can't help but raise his eyebrows further, but he nods slightly. "Yeah," he says. "Yeah, I can. Though I have to ask, how in the hell did a vampire learn something like that?" And why doesn't she know whether it's after her or not? One question at a time, Faolan, one question at a time.

"I don't have anything with me," he points out, "I'm going to need a few things. A change of clothes... How soon do you need me there?" He's still not sure whether he'll need to work tonight. That's sort of the problem with being on-call for Kenzi. He never knows when she'll need him and when she doesn't. He supposes he can just leave Ringer at Hillingdon or something, if it comes to that. Safer than staying home alone.

[whatmatters]

She ignores the pointed judgment and accepts his agreement instead. It shouldn't surprise her that he has questions. Faolan tends to look out for her in a way that's entirely unfamiliar to her and which she often finds both uncomfortable and much needed.

"I assume he followed me." Ringer's not one to elaborate more than necessary. She makes it clear the latter's not a problem, her tone light and nonchalant as ever. "I don't need you there. Come if you can, but I'll be fine if you're busy. He's known for a few days already. Your presence would be another precaution. That's all."

She's planning to kill him when she has time, having made certain that he has no allegiances in town and no interested parties. Unfortunately, exams and studies have gotten in her way as of late, forcing her to put her hunting party on the back burner and focus on keeping her marks up.

[reticence]

Faolan feels like he might as well keep his eyebrows permanently raised around this one. She reminds him something of himself when he was younger. Was he really so prickly? Has he really changed all that much since? He's not really in a position to say one way or the other, still being himself, after all.

"I said I'd come, didn't I?" he counters. "I'll be there. But unless you're volunteering a change of clothes, I'd rather grab some of my own, if it's all the same to you. My standards may be rather low but I do have them, you know."

sorry for delay!!

[whatmatters]

She nods. He did say he'd come and she's grateful to have him. After a short and very deliberate train of thought in which she determines the logical benefit of having another hunter around, she adds with her usual flat tone, "You're the only one that stays in the guest room. You can leave some clothes for future convenience."

It's not an invitation for him to live with her, nor anything particularly intimate. With Ringer, it's barely a comment of camaraderie if one doesn't know her well enough to understand her paranoia. But because he does, it should mean something of her trust in him, willing or not.