undergrounds | see the world through my own eyes [OPEN]

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.

Threaded | Flat

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.

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.

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..."

A

B

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