[center][color=ff8d00][h3]Andrew Mordekai[/h3][/color]
[i][u]Location[/u]:[/i] Faraday Heights 27B 
[i][u]Interacting With[/u]: Katie [@13Nightingale] and Claire [@shagranoz][/i][/center]

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Thanking both Katie and Claire for their contributions, Andrew began hastily eating his eggs with surprising speed. He hadn't even done any actually exhausting spells lately, just some Alchemic practice the night before, as prescribed by a Circle advisor. His skills in transmutation were slowly growing, though he still had some issues with the geomantic array to properly channel the energy. Andy's natural Fire came so simply, with a runic channel and a small incantation when needed, that such complex formulae and reagents were challenging. It left him with quite an appetite in the mornings.

Well, that, and he was sure a shit storm of folks was waiting for them at the shop. With all that had happened, plus the weather, it was going to be another packed day. The tips would be nice, though; Folks seemed to love his barista skills, and if he liked the folks he'd even do some fancy latte art with the milk pour. Skills paid the bills, after all.

Andrew did get a sort of annoyed twitch when Claire called the normal folks "naturals"...as if they weren't? Fuck, they were one step from human as it was and Witches were still getting shit. The Others were just as natural as humans...but he didn't say anything about it. She had good intentions, and he couldn't fault her for that. "I'm good, love. Be careful out there, though. Ya know how folks get with a storm."

s Katie, however, seemed to get it. "Right?" He said through a mouthful of toast, "It's like treating the culture of someone you just met like it never existed before you laid eyes on it. It's an adjustment, sure...but [i]murders[/i]? On both sides? We don't even have the full fucking story." Andrew's runes were smoldering again. He shook his head, clearing the building fog. "Sorry...you ready Katie? Place's gonna be a nuthouse by the time we get there." The young Witch asked, putting his plate in the sink.

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[center][color=#A2F22F][h3]Liam Woodsworth[/h3][/color]
[i][u]Location[/u]:[/i] Churchhill Gardens 5B -> Downtown Edgetoun
[i][u]Interacting With[/u]: No one yet[/i][/center]

Whoever invented that awful alarm clock noise can go royally fuck themselves. 

It was already well into the morning, and after hitting snooze three times, the electronic caterwauling had finally broken Liam's stupor. [color=#A2F22F]"Oh, for fuck's sake,"[/color] He groaned as he rolled out from under his heap of messy covers to give the clock a good [i]smack[/i]. Reluctantly, Liam stood, stepping in piles of clothes from God knows how long ago and other random bits scattered around the dark, mediocre apartment. With all the blinds shuttered, only the lights from his idling computer, clock, and Squeaks's heat lamp filled the apartment, the lizard crawling out of his rock habitat once he noticed movement. [color=#A2F22F]"Mornin', Squeakerooni. Got anything today?"[/color] He inquired, leaning down to let the hot light illuminate his gaunt features. The lizard simply cocked its head in reply.

[color=#A2F22F]"Figures. Ya quiet little man."[/color] Liam groggily stumbled over to the fridge. It was fairly sparse...save for the two or three bags of blood, random liquors, and the smattering of food that he had no idea was good or not. Sighing, he grabbed one of the crimsom pouches and moved to the small kitchenette. Opening the cabinet above the sink revealed...well, most of Liam's life. Pipes, bottles, needles...the only somewhat official looking one, labeled "Sanguinol" label-maker style, was what he was after, along with a scarlet stained shot glass. With a grimace he filled the shot with blood, knocking back two small white pills with it. He slammed the table with force, fighting down disgust. [color=#A2F22F]"[i]Fuck[/i] that's nasty. The fuck did I grab?"[/ Looking at the pouch, it was labeled with A-. Usually that was went down the easiest for him...must of been a bad batch. At least the pills and the shot would keep him relatively pain free for the afternoon.

Right now, though, that fucking left was giving him a fight. Hopefully it'd fade soon. Liam made his way painfully to his computer, pushing aside clothes and making a path, sitting down with an emphatic [i]hrrggg[/i]. to check the news. Internet was all he bothered to pay for, now that it handled everything phone and television could do in-home. Instantly, there was little good on the front page.

[color=A2F22F]"Murders and petitions. Fuck me."[/color] The Dhampire sighed, a thin hand coming up to hold his bedhead back. The Unseelie he didn't care about, and he rather liked the cold, so it wasn't too big a deal. But you can't just get rid of everyone like that...can you? He'd be lumped in that for sure, and the vamps and wolves would rip him apart just out of anger. Maybe heading out today was a bad idea?

Nah...not as bad as any other. You couldn't [i]really[/i] tell he was a Dhampire...if you didn't look hard enough...or heard rumors...or if anyone wasn't even mildly observant. Still...he wanted to grab some stuff for a new track that still sat open from the night before. He wanted some older samples to work with...and groceries were probably a necessity. 

A pair of randomly selected denim jeans, utterly unfit for winter, and a hastily procured hoodie had him out in the cold right quick, making his way up town. Hood up, face down, and hopefully out of eyesight of anyone with sharp things and radical notions. They could kill him [i]after[/i] he got this shit on Youtube.