undergrounds | A Fallen Guardian

With the perfect life
Westminster, 18 June (1:19 am) - Open to first responder only

Simon had been out with friends. For real, this time, celebrating the end of uni and the beginning of the rest of their lives. They'd gotten heartily drunk at a favorite pub, then gone to a club and done some more drinking. The only reason he hadn't stayed out all night was because he had to be at the Night Council early-ish the next morning, even though it was a Saturday. Unlike the rest of his friends, he already had a career--one that had very little to do with the degree he'd just spent the last three years of his life working towards.

And that was, ultimately, what killed him.

Later, he'll dissect every second of his death, or at least the ones he remembers, wondering what he could have done differently. Wondering how he could be so stupid as to be drunk and alone when he'd known for some time that the vampires were out hunting werewolves and shapeshifters to please their new leader, not to mention the fact that being a Guardian already put a target on his back in some parts of the supernatural community. At least it had been quick. Just a halfhearted fight (and he'd gotten some good hits in, he thought), a searing pain in his neck, and the warmth of his life blood seeping into the pavement.

And that's how he'll be found some moments later, when the vampire (newly turned and a bit of an idiot) hears footsteps coming towards them and spooks, leaving his dying victim crumpled against a wall.

Simon hasn't got long.

Where you never die
Westminster, 23 June - Open

There'd been a vigil two days after the murder, which was quite nice. Flowers and candles and people who'd never known him but thought he looked like a nice young man (plus his parents were quite famous, weren't they?) all standing next to the police tape that hadn't come down yet, crying about a boy with such a bright future ahead of him. Only the sensitive would have been able to tell that the boy hadn't quite left. A cold spot on the pavement, a certain prickling on the back of the neck, were certain indicators that a ghost lurked nearby.

Because that's what Simon figures he is now: a ghost. It's actually not as bad as he'd thought it would be. The first few hours after his death had been particularly traumatic, of course, watching his body be photographed by police and then carted away in an ambulance and wondering what would happen to his family and friends without him around anymore, but now he's gotten a little more focused. He's seen his Door. He knows that there's still something he needs to do to get to it and whatever lies beyond, and he's pretty sure that something is finding whoever it was that did this to him and making them pay.

Now if only he can figure out how to tell someone all this, he'll be well on his way to accomplishing his goal.

You just press rewind
Westminster, 30 June - Closed to Natasha

All right. He's made contact. Sort of. Now he just needs to make the right sort of contact. He has friends; they're going to have to help him sort this all out. When one of them approaches his little patch of pavement, he concentrates as hard as he can until--there.

A pale, shadowy figure materializes out of the air.

"Pleasant evening, huh?" Simon's ghost grins.

Threaded | Flat

It's late evening when Natasha comes by, naturally. With sunset at around9:30 this time of year, she didn't have a lot of options when it came to getting out earlier. She does come by though, and not for the first time. Not because she was expecting to run into him haunting the place—it's hard to know when a ghost will decide to hang around—but because Simon was a good kid and a reminder of how off the rails things have gotten with Islington lately.

When he does appear, she isn't surprised. She's not far short of it though, and Simon has the honor of seeing her put back on her heels for a split second, her expression blanking briefly while she catches up. The instant passes that quickly, though.

"Nice enough. Funny who you run into on a night like this, isn't it?" She presses her lips together tightly, then returns his smile. It doesn't reach her eyes though. "Simon. So you are still here."

The news of Simon's death had come as something of a shock to Sirius. It was hard to believe really, and death was never a good thing to hear about. Especially if it was of someone that he'd considered a friend. (That brought back memories he wasn't quite ready to deal with yet.)

At the very least though, he could visit the site, and maybe see if there was any evidence left over. He waits until the vigil is over, not wanting to draw attention to himself. That could bring trouble on a number of levels, least of all him being suspected for the crime. Although when he gets there, he figures he shouldn't be surprised.

"Guess you're not as gone as I thought, huh?"

Roddy didn't know about the murder. He didn't know that someone had died here, and he certainly didn't know who or why. All he knew as he passed over that spot was that he suddenly felt cold. Unnerved. Like someone was watching him. Roddy glanced around, but he saw no one. He sniffed the air a little, but he smelled no one. Still, he couldn't help but feel that someone was there, watching him.

Cooper has watched the young vampires running around this city like they're children loose in a candy store. He'd heard of at least one werewolf leaving town to avoid the bloodbath and was sure there had to be more. The ones that were left were becoming even more aggressive and the hunters seem to be focusing more on vampires as of late. What a clusterfuck all the way around.

As an Earl, it was his job to keep the young ones in order. Someone had informed him there was a particularly enthusiastic nutter trying to murder enough werewolves and shapeshifters to get higher up in the rankings. Cooper had been trying to track him down this night with little success. By the time he's caught up to the fellow's handiwork, he is long gone, and there's someone dying in a puddle of blood at his feet. He looks the boy over and shakes his head. Death is only a few minutes away at best. "Can't help you, kid. The damage has been done." Vampire blood could save someone an inch from death, but this kid didn't look like he even had the strength to drink.

Daryl had heard the news within hours of it getting around and when the vigil happened, he showed up. Stood near the back and had his arm tentatively around Maria, the woman who had once thought Simon was her soulmate. She'd found out when it hit the media and had contacted him right away, asking if it was true and distraught beyond words. Daryl hadn't wanted to see her go the way of being drunk near train tracks again and offered to come over. She'd been the one to suggest attending the vigil together. He knew she wasn't really over him yet, despite never being with him, just working on getting back on her own feet. But the timing of all the shit going down with the Vampires was terrible and Simon deserved his death least of everyone involved. Simon was a good kid.

Later, after the vigil and taking Maria home and agreeing to come see her again that week to check up on her, Daryl went back to the scene. He just stood there, arms crossed, looking down at the flowers and candles. Even lit the few that had gone out after all the other watchers had disappeared.

"Sorry, kid," he murmured, throat tightening more than he cared to admit.

You just press rewind

Where you never die

Where You Never Die

With the perfect life

Where you never die