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[i][sub][color=gray][color=50565A][b]Time:[/b][/color] Early Evening
[color=50565A][b]Location:[/b][/color] Düsseldorf, Germany → JFK Airport
[color=50565A][b]Interactions:[/b][/color] Monika (NPC)[/color][/sub][/i]
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[indent][color=darkgray]The day had started like any other… Wolkfrik’s alarm went off, prompting a sleepy hand that flailed and slapped around the end table in search of silence. A deep sigh into his pillow followed that. Another sleepless night. Another morning waking up with the feeling of a lead weight sitting atop his heart. Wolf sat up slowly, moving in practiced sluggish, robotic motions. If he moved too fast, he might bring on a flare-up. With a groan and the cracking of a few joints, Wolf made his way to the bathroom.

The day had started like any other… but it was different for one very important reason. This was his last day in his shared flat, his last day in Germany, and, hopefully, his last day in ignorance. These thoughts ran through Wolfrik’s mind as he steadily swept a razor from his jawline to his cheek. He rinsed the blades off and clacked the razor along the side of the porcelain sink, watching thoughtfully as the water, shaving cream, and trimmed hairs swirled down the drain. It felt poetic, to see the water run clean and disappear down the tubes. Soon he would disappear too… in one way or another.

Now finished with his morning routine, Wolfrik took a good hard look at himself in the mirror. He looked as sick as he felt, but he hoped that the smudged eyeliner and punk aesthetic might mask the fact that those dark circles under his eyes were real, and yes, his complexion is actually that pale. Not to mention his weight… how much did he even weigh anymore? It’s not like he cared enough to own a scale and track it, and doctors appointments were a useless thing of the past now. Unless he could find a vampire doctor… did those exist? They had to, right? Maybe he’d find one in New York.

Sighing, Wolfrik opened the medicine cabinet and searched for a familiar crutch. The bottle was labeled to be aspirin, but the pills inside were a much, much stronger pain killer. His journey down the dark path started when his mother’s cancer returned for the second time… it was easy to skim a few pills from her collection. She was barely conscious enough to notice, and she was prescribed far more than she needed. Funny how just a few pills turns into a full blown dependency in the blink of an eye. Well, not so funny, really. Being an addict wasn’t fun, it cost Wolfrik a lot. It cost him his lover. But hopefully he’d be able to kick this habit, after he found his answers and his cure. Nodding, as if the thought was convincing enough to be prophecy, Wolf opened his mouth and downed a few pills before packing the rest away in his carry on bag.

The flat was suspiciously quiet. Wolf passed by Monika’s room to find the door open and the room empty. He rolled his luggage into the dining room to see a note on the table. His ex-girlfriend had gone out to get them coffees, since it was a “special occasion”. It read that she’d be back soon to drive him to the airport. She was so sweet, the incredibly kind soul that most thought to only exist in fairytales. He didn’t deserve her goodness, but he counted himself lucky that he didn’t lose her permanently. So very lucky…

[hr]
The hustle and bustle of Düsseldorf International Airport rang out loud around the hypersensitive halfblood and his human companion. There were hundreds of people conversing with each other and rushing to make their flights, the beeps of machinery at the security gates, the hiss of the sandwich press at one of the airport’s many eateries, and countless other sounds. They were surrounded by endless noise, yet it still felt like they were the only two people in the room. Wolfrik stared at his childhood pal, ex-girlfriend, best friend, and the person that knew him the most in the world aside from his late mother.

Most people would describe Monika as a handsome woman, she was not searingly sexy by the usual standards, yet she was drop dead gorgeous to Wolfrik. Her physical appearance was pretty, but her heart was what made her so beautiful. Wolfie studied the brunette’s face, knowing her expressions well enough to recognize the worried crease between her eyebrows and shiny glint in her honey-brown eyes for what they were. She was upset, anxious, and forlorn. It broke his heart that he was the reason for that countenance… [i]again[/i]. Goodbyes were hard, far too hard.

[color=50565A][b]“Do you hate me, Mon?”[/b][/color] Wolfrik asked quietly in their native language. She should hate him. This would be easier if she did. He deserved it, if she did. Wolfrik had let himself succumb to his pain, both emotional and physical, as he dove into drugs and alcohol as a coping mechanism. His vices had driven a wedge between them, ending their relationship, but thankfully not their friendship as well. He didn’t blame her for dumping him, she deserved so much more than the love of half a man.

The crease deepened as Monika’s eyebrows stitched together. For a moment, she looked livid, and then the expression fell away into a chuckle. [color=506674][b]“I could never hate you, Wolf, you stupid fuck.”[/b][/color] The corner of her mouth pulled up in the faintest shadow of a smile. She closed the distance between them to rest her hand on his arm, giving it a gentle squeeze. [color=506674][b]“You need to get better, and staying here isn’t going to help you. My Wolfie has always done best when he has determination in his heart, and for the first time in a long while, I see that fire in your eyes again. This is the closest you’ve come to knowing your father, and I truly hope he is what you need him to be.”[/b][/color]

Wolfrik chewed at his lip and struggled to make eye contact. If only she knew the depth of his despair. He wasn’t just a grief-stricken addict… he was dying. There wasn’t any way to get better, not unless he found some cure that he wasn’t even sure existed. He didn't know how much time he had left... but, she couldn’t know that. In the end, it would be best for him to leave this place and let her move on with her healthy, human life. Like father, like son, right? At least he was saying goodbye first, that’s more than this mysterious man ever gave his mother. [color=50565A][b]“I hope so too.”[/b][/color] Wolfrik said with a heavy sigh. [color=50565A][b]“Mom loved him, and she had the best judge of character of anyone I know… so, he must not be that bad. Right?”[/b][/color]

Monika pursed her lips together and shrugged. [color=506674][b]“Hopefully not…”[/b][/color] She moved the hand that was resting on his arm to stroke his cheek in an almost maternal gesture. [color=506674][b]“But he did leave her without a word, so, guard your heart around him. I know you want to know your father, but it might be best to keep some walls up for a while. Protect yourself. You might look like a real hard punk, but you’re soft as flower petals underneath all that leather.”[/b][/color] Monika smirked and lowered her hand to punch at his leather jacket-clad chest gently. [color=506674][b]“Hurry along now, or you’ll miss your plane.”[/b][/color]

Wolfie nodded in understanding of everything she had just said. Mon might not have the full picture — like the fact that his father likely peaced out because he was a vampire — but her words were no less wise. Without any more conversation, for risk of being overcome with emotion and not being able to speak clearly, Wolfrik pulled her into an embrace. His frame was so gaunt that she was practically hugging herself when she wrapped her arms around him. He never used to be so thin. Wolf pulled away after a few moments of silent hugging, and then pressed a quick kiss to her forehead. He wished he could kiss more than just that, but those days were in the past. [color=50565A][b]“It’s a one-way ticket, Mon. I don’t know how long I’ll be gone. Promise me you won’t wait up… promise me you will live your life.”[/b][/color]

[color=506674][b]“It’s just a plane ride, Wolf. Don’t be so gloomy and final about it.”[/b][/color] She responded with a light laugh. It sounded as hollowed out as he felt. With that, the pair parted ways and Wolfrik became one of the many passengers rushing down the terminal to make their plane in time. Wolf boarded flight 2486 from DUS to JFK without a second to spare. Monika was right, he almost missed the flight entirely. Monika was usually right.

He had purchased one of the cheapest tickets available, so Wolf was seated along the aisle with the least amount of legroom known to man. Wolfrik was rather tall, so the latter was particularly unfortunate. That said, he didn’t care all that much. Wolfrik had far too much on his mind to care for something as trivial as physical comfort, that was always hard to come by these days anyway, especially while sober. 

Wolf pulled a book out of his carry on bag and flipped it open. For all intents and purposes, the book functioned as a journal. All of the pages were dated, some of them bore passing thoughts or short paragraphs of prose, but most held sketches. Wolfrik was always much better at speaking his mind through his artwork than he was with words. Tucked into the entry for the current day was a loose page from the sketchbook of another artist. It was his mother’s drawing, the one he’d used to track down the identity of his father after she had passed. Wolf ran his thumb along the paper reverently, pondering on what kind of man his father might be. His thoughts were interrupted by the words of a blonde flight attendant asking if she could get him a drink. He ordered whiskey, like a proper day-drinking man on his deathbed ought to.

The flight over the Atlantic was long. Long enough for Wolfrik to have a second and third shot of whiskey to take the edge off of his nerves, and then to have a meal and some more drinks afterwords. He wasn’t actually meeting his father yet, he’d planned some time for himself to relax before that moment, but he was nervous all the same. When the plane landed, Wolfrik filed out after the other passengers heading towards the baggage claim. He gathered his single, overstuffed suitcase, his acoustic guitar, and the carry on backpack he wore onto the flight, and he headed out of the airport. 

Wolf waved his hand and flagged down a taxi, just like he saw in the movies. His destination was a hostel-style apartment, where he would live with four other roommates, and which was on the same train line as the tattoo shop he would be working at. It didn’t fully hit him until he was watching the cars slowly creep along in bumper to bumper traffic that he was in the United States now, for the first time ever. Land of the free, home of the brave, and the birthplace of the American dream. But was there a dream for someone like him to find here?[/color][/indent]