undergrounds | Shifter on the prowl

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Shifter on the prowl

1.Abandoned Warehouse (Open to all)
Technically, exploring abandoned buildings was dangerous, and it would be advisable to avoid them, but Roddy's current form navigated the depilated warehouse with ease, his whiskers feeling around him, guiding him along the wall. Leave it to the wolves and big cat shifters to change in the woods and go running, this was his natural environment. His clothes were stashed in a corner of the room, and he felt far more secure in the idea that no one would be messing with them here than if he was somewhere more open.

For a while, Roddy lost himself in the rat, barely aware of time passing, only snapping out of his animal instincts when he realized he was eating something. Wait, what…oh. A cockroach. Lovely. Realizing what he was doing, Roddy dropped the half eaten insect and decided that was quite enough. He began walking back toward his clothes, when he heard the sound of footsteps. Suddenly, he froze, ready to turn tail and run on a moment's notice.

2. Hillingdon House (Open to anyone in Hillingdon)
Roddy didn't come here much. If his dad had his way, he wouldn't come here at all. He didn't come often as it was, and usually didn't say much. Still, part of him was curious. He barely had any dealings with the supernatural world outside of other shifters, and from what he'd heard, most of it would just assume eat him or enslave him. Which was, of course, why he'd rather satisfy his curiosity by listening to people tell stories at the Hillingdon House than by actually running into a vampire.

3. Out on the street(Open to all)
Roddy had been heading home from the store, having picked up some spare strings for his violin. As he walked back, his senses picked up a world of sounds and smells he had to pretend he was completely unaware of. A squirrel, hiding in the bushes, rustling the leaves ever so slightly as it shifted directions, considering bolting from the much larger interloper. The slight scent of food left on discarded wrappers. And then, of course, the scent of…holy crap, what was that?

Roddy paused, scanning the surrounding area, trying to identify whoever or whatever it was he was smelling.

4. Choose your own adventure!

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It wasn't easy finding the time or place to let himself run free. Not like this. But London didn't have a lot of relatively private spots to pick from. So when he found it and caught the scent of a few live rodents about the yard, he figured what the hell? He entered the building, soft footfalls echoing despite his ability to walk in silence. Nothing he could do about it with the boots he was wearing. That would be solved once he got his clothes off and his feet became paws.

He found a mostly out of reach area to stash his duds. Stripped quickly with an efficiency born of years of practice. And within moments was flexing his claws as he sniffed out his prey. Mice and rats and small birds weren't that filling, but at least it would give him the satisfaction of a proper hunt.

Frozen in abject horror, he listened as the footsteps stopped, and he knew from the sound of it he'd probably see whoever it was if he just peered around the stack of rotting wooden crates haphazardly piled nearby. Slowly, tentatively, Roddy peered around the corner, his nose twitching to take in as much as he could, to make up for the weakness of his tiny eyes in this form. He could see that whoever they were, their entire body structure was changing, and their scent...oh, crap.

He'd smelled that scent before, but this was the first time he'd smelled it while he was sitting around in this form. Oh, crap. Would he realize Roddy was another shifter?

Roddy sat there, frozen a moment as he considered that, until it was too much for his rat instincts. He ran, his thoughts a panicked blur as he went. Then, spotting a rusted bit of discarded pipe, Roddy ran inside, hoping to hide. If he'd been thinking, he'd have probably just changed back right then. Instead, he'd let the rat do the thinking for him.

Peering out from within the pipe, he tried to judge if it would be safe to exit his little hiding place for long enough to change back.

Plenty of people around the House knew that Daryl was a shifter. He didn't hide that. They knew he he was some sort of cat, too. Not that he went telegraphing that bit on purpose, but he knew it was easy to pick up on. His scent had that feline quality to it. What most of the Clan didn't know, was what kind of cat Daryl was. He didn't talk about it much or shift in front of people. He actively tried not to shift where people could watch him. He didn't like anyone getting that kind of look at him without his permission. Hell, not even his brother had seen him shirtless since they were kids.

So when he got into his fur and sniffed around for any scent, he wasn't really expecting to find one he recognized. Not on top of the general rodent smells going around. It was confusing, more than anything. And curiosity didn't usually kill this cat, so he followed it straight to a pipe. One he could just barely get his head down far enough to see into and see the big old rat staring right back at him. He wasn't actually hungry, so he could hold back the instinct to try and go for it. But backing up far enough that when the rat went to run he could easily pounce was not one he could stop. He'd come intending to hunt. And his prey was right there.

Roddy stared back for a while. Well, at least Daryl wasn't reaching his paw down to get him. Which might mean he might have realized who it was. After all, it wasn't like it was a secret within the clan what he turned into, though few had actually seen his rat form. Still, there was only so much he wanted to gamble in the idea that this guy wasn't going to pounce.

For a moment, Roddy contemplated just sitting in the pipe all day. He had to get bored eventually, right? Or he could just end up finding other ways to get at Roddy. Besides, with the way his little rodent heart was pounding, he knew he couldn't stand to stay here much longer. So he decided to make a run for it.

The second he was out of the pipe, the rat started growing, joints started shifting and fusing, and while Roddy continued to try and scramble over to where he'd stashed his clothes his body changed, hampering his movements but, he hoped, making him look a lot less like food. If Daryl did try to pounce, though, Roddy was going to bite.

He couldn't help it, really. The powerful leap forward was as automatic and natural as his butt wiggling with the flexing of his legs right before he pounced. He couldn't stop himself from the attempt and he was already in the air by the time the rat was out of his hidey-hole and shifting into something that was decidedly not a rat.

So despite all his mental warning signals firing off mid-jump, Daryl still ended up landing on the not-so-rat-like legs. Gave them a good pap-pap-pap with his heavy paws (and at least had the presence of mind not to have claws out) when the half-rat half-man twisted around to bite him. A yowl and a hiss echoed through the room as Daryl darted off and found someplace high on some old equipment to get some safe distance. Then he hissed again, announcing his displeasure and cursing the asshole out in the language of cats.

It was a good thing Roddy had started to shift. Even though the lack of claws meant it wouldn't have been deadly, with the size of those paws he'd have been knocked around pretty good in his rat form. After that, it felt good to see the cat run away yowling after he turned and bit him.

Finishing his shift to human form, Roddy scrambled over to his clothes and quickly started dressing himself. Looking over at the hissing, pissed off cat, he said, "Yeah? Well that's what you get."

You treated him like a cat toy or food or whatever? You were going to get bit.

This time Daryl didn't just hiss, he bared his fangs and flexed his claws. Being a little over twice the size of the common house cat meant he was still very dangerous and could easily maul the man in front of him if he wanted to. And he wasn't in the mood to get any lip back when he'd clearly been nice enough not to rip the ungrateful asshole a new one. Clearly

The growl and hissing quieted down shortly into murmured grumblings as Daryl got himself a little more comfortable, though still obviously ready to pounce again if he had to. He didn't really like watching a guy get dressed, but he wasn't about to let his would-be-prey out of his sight.

Roddy jumped a little at that last bit of growling and hissing. He was kind of counting on the idea that this guy, being another shifter, wasn't going to attack, but the hiss reminded him that it wasn't really guaranteed. Still, Roddy tried to settle down, look casual as he zipped up his trousers. Despite the fact that his heart was still pounding, he tried to perfect the 'see? Totally not scared of you, Daryl' look.

"Whatever," he said, pulling on his shirt. "I'm leaving."

Although, despite the fact he was trying to act totally unafraid, Daryl might notice that Roddy was giving him a ridiculously wide berth, enough that his arm was scraping the far wall. But he wasn't nervous. Of course not.

Daryl fully understood the body language he was seeing. It was as instinctual as his need to start following the man at a slow pace, jumping from box to rafters and padding his way along to keep Roddy within proper range the whole time. No matter how wide a berth he tried to give. It pleased his cat senses to see it.

Once Roddy was out the door, though, Daryl was down on the floor and sprinting to his own clothes even as he shifted himself. Just doing enough to make sure the other man wasn't about to turn around and come back in while he was getting dressed. It was a quick thing, he was done in under a minute. Like most shifters, the art of fast dressing had been learned during long years of practice.

He was just shrugging his leather vest back on as he jogged out the door and called after Roddy, "The hell you bite me for, asshole?"

Roddy turned, glaring back and Daryl, but he did stop to answer.

"What the hell did you trap me in a pipe for, asshole?"

He had to admit, it was less intimidating when the other person didn't have claws, though the feline scent he was picking up reminded him that Daryl was the same creature, regardless of form. Still, as far as Roddy was concerned, it was Daryl who was out of line.

"Rats fight back when they're backed into a corner."

"I didn't trap you in a damn pipe! I gave you room to run out!" Because that made the fact that he'd wanted to pounce so much better, right?

Daryl made no attempt to stay back, getting himself as close as he could as fast as he could to yell at the man. That wasn't his usual M.O., but he'd just got out of his cat form and shaking off some of the instincts right away was hard to do. So he got close and started to pace back and forth in a semi-circle. Unconsciously looking to block Roddy's easiest escape routes.

"You weren't backed anywhere and I weren't even using my claws!"

But he was being subtly backed into a corner now.

Edited 2016-06-09 03:07 (UTC)

"Yeah!" he snapped back, taking a step away from the man. "And the second I tried to get out, you fucking pounced! I mean, don't get me wrong, it's fucking awesome you didn't try to disembowel me, it would be even more awesome if you didn't try to slap me around when you're that much bigger than me."

He took another step back, glancing around, looking for an escape route. He wasn't seeing one. Panic was starting to rise up again. If Daryl kept this up...

"Give me some fucking space. I'm serious."

Abandoned Warehouse

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HIllingdon House

Re: HIllingdon House

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Out on the street

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