Hidden 27 days ago Post by AutumnFrost
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AutumnFrost Legally Blind Role-player

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Winter in the city was always so depressing it seemed. Everything had a grey rather steely Quality to it, from the crushed rock salt coding all of the cars to the snow that had turned into slush And soaked through the careless trespassers' socks. Even the sky looked grey With an overcasting of clouds clinging to it and threatening to start snowing at any moment. People hurried down the sidewalks, Shoulders hunched in and dark clothing blending them into one Never-ending mass, only adding to the gray atmosphere that hung thick Over everything.

But then, like a fish swimming to the surface of murky water, a splash Of color appeared, coming in the form of a bright blue knitted hat. Only adding to the effect was the fact that a rather tall man was wearing it, making the hat stand out among the crowd by a handful of inches. The man himself was mild in comparison to his head adornment however, With average pleasant features that didn't make him immediately stand out, while still managing to come off as somewhat handsome. Like everyone else, he Was wearing a dark coat, an almost black gray wool That came down to the tops of his calves, Underneath of which was a bright white button up shirt. This was carefully tucked Into a pair of neatly pressed black slacks. Simple, durable Black shoes finished the ensemble, obviously chosen to cope with the weather rather then be fashionable. But unlike everyone else, he actually seemed to be comfortable with the snow, even if his expression was slightly grim.

William Grant, As the man was known, Was in and Of himself an anomaly. That was part in Parcel something that came along with being a werewolf, he supposed.

He had once been like the people walking around him, weak, Oblivious by choice or design to the supernatural world, and completely human. He had had a family once, had just started to get his first grey hairs and had begun to develop laugh lines around his eyes and mouth. But then his own naivety had been shattered when he and his family had been attacked. He, his wife, and his three young children had gone on a hike, enjoying some time away from the city out in the wilderness. He hadn't seen where the werewolf had come from initially, But it had killed the youngest of his children before he had had the chance to react. A Walkingstick and a rock. That was what he had been able to use to break several of the creature's bones, horrified by the strength and sheer impossibility of refusing to die under the attacks the beast showed. Eventually, he had had the opportunity to retrieve a knife from his bag, The creature's clause having ripped through the fabric and spilling the contents across the ground. He hadn't known then that the silver coating the blade was the ultimate factor that had saved his life. His family dead around him, the rogue werewolf having long since run away, Joseph had lain in the dirt awaiting his own death, an arm pressed over his stomach where it had been ripped open. He hadn't been able to save them and he welcomed death.

Only he didn't die. William had eventually woken up in a bed that was placed in a room with bars across the high Windows and bars where a door should have been. Two men were there, waiting for him to wake up. They explained to him what he had become, tried to impress upon him the changes that he had gone through. At first, he hadn't believed them. Until one of the men changed into a wolf before his eyes.

William had quickly discovered that he had been picked up by some members of the local werewolf pack and the Alpha intended to bring him into the "family", As he called it. He had resisted at first, not wanting to embrace being a monster. But time, Friendship, and acceptance had eventually worn him down. And he had spent the last 80 years within his new family, learning how to control and become one with his wolf, keeping the secret of his existence.

Recently, that secret had begun to change. After years of counseling and debating, the elders of his kind had agreed, along with some of the other supernatural creatures that lived in the world, that it would be better for their survival if some of their numbers came out to the public. Human technology and science was progressing to the point where it was becoming near impossible for the supernatural world to stay hidden for much longer. If they preemptively came out, this would hopefully be a sign of nonaggression to the human population. They wouldn't all come out at once, no. The werewolves would reveal themselves first. Some secrets still had to be kept after all. But those of higher power carefully selected those beneath them to be The front of the revelation, the face of the species. William hadn't really expected to be one of those chosen. But his Alpha had come to him, informing him that there was a special assignment that needed to be done, something that would form positive relations with the humans, and for some reason, William was the chosen candidate. He hadn't been happy with it, but there wasn't much arguing when your Alpha gave a direct order.

He had, he found out, the unpleasant task of not working alone. Some other poor soul had also been recruited for the assignment. But William hadn't been given very many details about who this would be. All he knew was that they would be someone sent by the FBI. He hadn’t even gotten a name. Because of the lack of information, he had chosen to wear a distinctive hat, making himself purposefully stand out so that the other person coming on this investigation could find him, Informing his Alpha that he would be doing so. And then he had gotten on the plane that had taken him to this snowy city.

Now, standing in the middle of Central Square and blinking up at the oppressing looking clouds overhead, pushing back the memories that had surfaced, William Cradled a large cup of hot chocolate in his hands as he waited for his partner to arrive so that they could discuss their upcoming assignment. The heat That radiated through the plastic cup to his fingers felt nice as he shifted his weight Back onto his heels while he Waited, carefully scanning the crowd of faces that ever changed around him for a glint Of recognition that would come to his chosen partner's eyes. He Would quietly sip At the sweet creamy liquid and offer intense stares to those who showed far too much interest in him and most likely his hat without the acknowledgment of Understanding of Who he actually was. At that point, they would either walk away rather hastily, casting nervous glances over their shoulders, or Return his stare With a slightly unsure And rather dazed Expression, before walking away with puzzlement Afterwards. It Didn't bother him in the slightest. Shrugging His broad shoulders with a small rustle of silk lining, his light blue gaze Continued to sweep over the sea of people that ever changed around him.
Hidden 23 days ago Post by Siaya Dragalorn
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Siaya Dragalorn Insomniac Vampire

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Taya Turner sat in the passenger side of her partner’s Hyundai Accent.The silver-gray car idled at the curb as it waited for its driver to return. The gentle purring of the engine was lost on the woman inside.
What few rays of sun made it through the cloud cover shone in her shoulder-length hair. It caught on its artificial highlights in the otherwise brunette strands. Her soft, tan features gave her a slightly more youthful look than her actual twenty-four years.
She absently tapped her chin with the end of her favorite pen. She stared down at the papers and photos scattered in her lap, reviewing the file of one William Grant for the hundredth time.
No matter how many times she read through it, it still seemed more like a fantasy than an actual profile. Just like everything else since the start of the Werewolves Interpolation Reveal. Or, as everyone called it, W.I.R. Most people said it had to be a hoax. Some crazed group of maniacs who thought they were Lycans, and took it to the next level with impeccable special effects. Others clung to the belief of it like a lifeline.
All Taya knew for sure was that since its start, it’d caused nothing but trouble and no small mountain of paperwork and investigations. Fights had ensued. W.I.R. supporters had crawled out of the woodwork, while others made it feel like the Salem Witch trials on repeat, swapping witches for werewolves. Whatever these people—human or otherwise—had been expecting, it was mass chaos.
Since the ‘reveal,’ she had hoped to land a case involving the so-called wolves, to discover the truth behind the matter for herself. And now, she had one. Well, it was more that he had an assignment and she just happened to be his partner, but still. It was her case by proxy.
But it wasn’t the kind of intel gathering case she’d hoped for. No. This was a homicide case. Her first murder case as an official FBI agent. And William Grant, acclaimed werewolf, was to join them in the investigation.
Her partner had muttered it being something about solidifying the blurry lines between truth and fiction in the public eye. If the government could work with and validate the werewolves’ existence, then maybe the citizens could, too. Or, better yet in his opinion, realize it was as fake as alien crop circles and return to their normal lives.
Regardless, what mattered most, was that they solved the string of homicides and disappearances as quick as possible. The sooner they found the killer—or killers—the better.
Taya’s hazel gaze strayed to the outdoors. She glanced to the café they had stopped at.
Gray, contaminated snow huddled against the building as if it feared someone would come shovel it away. Frost lurked at the edges of the storefront window. Inside, she could just make out the back of her partner’s head towering at the front of the line. His black trilby hat added a couple inches to his height. Beyond him, a flustered barista hurried about behind the counter.
Thankful he was almost done—and feeling a bit sorry for the barista—Taya returned her attention to the file.
If none of it was fabricated, then, by all accounts, William Grant should be dead. Or, at the very least, bedridden in a home for senior citizens. Yet, somehow, he looked even younger in his recent, out-of-state driver’s license photo than he did in the ones supposedly dated from nearly eighty years ago.
The sleeves of her burgundy coat rustled lightly as she picked up the photocopy of the old, black-and-white picture.
A family all dressed in their Sunday best posed in front of a park’s statue. A forty-three-year-old William Grant stood beside a rather pleasant-looking woman trying to keep her bonnet from flying away. Their children, three boys between the ages eleven and sixteen, each looked bored and ready to get on with the day. A normal, happy family. A family destined for tragedy, if the reports were to be believed.
She swapped it for the more recent photo. Besides being in color, it looked as if someone had Photoshopped the black-and-white one, cleaning up the signs of aging. He looked somewhere around his late twenties, give or take. And unlike in the family photo, his eyes looked haunted instead of happy. Like they’d seen more than their fair share of sorrow, the weight of seemingly existing outside of time making his smile drawn. No matter what way you looked at it, though, he looked completely human.
Though she trusted tests had been run to rule out tampering with the original from the 1900s, there was every chance the similar appearance and name was simply a biological coincidence. Like another Nicolas Cage conspiracy.
Still staring at the pictures as if she could spot some kind of tell he was a werewolf, she reached for her travel mug from the cupholders in front of the center console. She brought it to her lips.
She paused, taking a grateful moment to inhale the rich aroma of sugar-afied coffee. Anything was better than the earthy yet minty scent of sage filling the car. Sage and cinnamon. She’d started to think of it as her partner’s signature scent, so had expected it the first time she rode with him. What she hadn’t anticipated was its intensity in such a condensed space.
The sage, she figured, had something to do with dispelling evil spirits. But the cinnamon? It was too natural smelling to be a cologne. She’d even done a quick search for a spice ball or something under the seats when her partner wasn’t looking, but hadn’t found anything. She’d resigned to the suspicion he bathed in it.
She slowly sipped at her coffee. Her attention shifted back to the file.
As much trouble as W.I.R. had caused, her curiosity and excitement threatened to get the best of her. She smiled around her mug’s lid. The detective side of her wanted to know the truth about the whole thing. Though she wished it was under different circumstances, the opportunity had still dropped right into her lap.
Maybe there really was something to the whole, ‘beginner’s luck’ thing.
She glanced up as her partner strode past the windshield. His black, wool overcoat only enhanced his rather ominous appearance, its tails flaring out slightly behind him.
He hastily entered the car. The chill of the outdoors chased out the warmth inside, making Taya shiver. She reached to turn up the car’s heat.
“Blasted winter,” he growled. He scowled as he tapped off bits of slush from his shiny, cap toe shoes. Satisfied he wouldn’t dirty the pristine interior, he fully settling into the driver’s seat.
Everything about Eli Archer’s features was pointed. His high, prominent cheekbones. His long, thin face and slender chin. His beak-like nose that looked like it could easily take out someone’s eye if he turned too fast. Taya couldn’t help but wonder if he was a distant cousin of a crow.
He took a long swig of his warm drink as if trying to drown his frustrations of winter in it. Years of practice kept his nose from poking a hole in the lid.
“Long line?” Taya asked absently, refocusing again on the file. Whatever he’d gotten, the new scent of something citrusy joined the array of smells in the car. The strange mix threatened to make her stomach churn.
Eli grunted. He placed his cup in the holder closest to him. His icy blue eyes narrowed as he noticed the file. His scowl seemed to deepen, but it was hard to be certain; his resting face itself was always either a frown or a scowl. Taya wasn’t sure if his facial muscles even knew how to make a smile.
“What, don’t have those memorized yet?” he snapped. He took hold of the wheel, black leather gloves covering his hands.
Taya shrugged, doing her best to brush off his tone. In the nearly two weeks she’d been his partner, she’d started to think of that as his normal, neutral attitude. She’d heard that she was the senior agent's twelfth partner in half as many months, and was determined to show it would take more than his attitude to scare her off. She might be a newbie, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t handle bad manners from an arrogant senior.
Besides. The man needed someone who could actually deal with people without sending them off in tears just from introducing himself. Which, according to the stories, had actually happened a few times. Once to one of his now transferred partners.
“What can I say? I like to be prepared.” She sat the photo down and straightened the papers beneath it. “Current circumstances aside, this whole W.I.R. thing is interesting.”
Archer snorted derisively as he adjusted his rear-view mirror. A couple crystalline pendulums hanging from it glittered dully in the gray light. A four-leaf clover preserved in resin hung roughly around their center.
“What do these people stand to gain from this?” she mused more to herself. She tapped her pen against her chin again. She took a last look at the pictures at the top of the thick stack of papers behind them. “Is it the publicity? A desire for chaos?”
“Whatever they want,” Archer interjected bitterly, “they can all drown in the River Styx for all I care.”
Taya closed the file and clipped her pen onto the folder. “I don’t get you.” She returned her travel mug to the holder and popped open the glove compartment. “You’ll give Styx the benefit of the doubt, but you won’t consider that maybe these people aren’t entirely malignant?”
He glared at Taya, the piercing effect enough to make the strongest of men wither beneath it. Somehow, his eyes always grew steelier when he was upset. Which, really, was 90% of the time from what Taya could tell.
She shoved the file into the glove compartment, carefully avoiding looking at him.
“You’ve seen the mess these idiots have caused,” he growled. He flicked on his blinker to rejoin the stream of cars on the road. “Trust me, Turner. It can only get worse from here. I guarantee those murders are just the start. The sooner this whole werewolf mess blows over as an elaborate prank, the better. For everyone.”
“Plus less paperwork to deal with?” Taya’s brows rose.
Archer snorted. The side of his mouth and nose raised with the noise, forming the closest thing to a smile Taya figured he could manage. “That too.”


If there was one word to describe Eli Archer’s driving, it was ‘insanity.’ The man knew how to weave between traffic in the perfect way to make cardiac arrest a real danger to his passengers. But at least it got them to their destination on time.
He parked a couple blocks away from Central Square. Killing the engine, he heaved a sigh.
Taya unbuckled, thankful to have finally come to a stop. There was no way she’d ever get used to his driving.
Archer pulled the keys from the ignition. A gray rabbit’s foot swayed from the keychain before he shoved them in a pocket of his overcoat.
As Taya sipped on a pair of knitted gloves, their red a shade brighter than her coat, Eli finished off his drink in a single long swig. He tossed the empty cup into a small trash container in the back seat. He swapped it out for a briefcase, then opened his door.
Taya grabbed her mug, and the two left the warmth of the car. Eli paused to pick off a piece of lint from his overcoat, then joined Taya at the sidewalk. He carefully avoided the snow bank, scowling down at it as if his ire alone would be enough to prevent it from soiling his gray suit trousers. For the sake of the snow bank, Taya hoped it worked.
The two headed toward the cobbled square. Archer’s shoes tapped sharply against the sidewalk, his long steps measured just right to avoid stepping on the intentional cracks in the cement.
Taya rushed to keep up. Each of his long strides equaled nearly two of hers, his head rising almost six inches above her own. The bells of a church rang faintly in the distance, chiming out eleven o’ clock.
As always, Central Square was packed. Voices rose into the air by the dozens. People came and went, hurrying about on break or changing shifts. The two agents scanned the area, searching for a stationary face matching William Grant’s photo.
An extra splash of color amidst the sea of darker and neutral colors caught Taya’s attention. A man with a blue stocking cap stood near a fountain at the center of the square. His gaze searched the crowd. Though his side faced them, she felt certain he was the one they were here for.
“Archer,” she nudged him lightly and nodded to the familiar man.
Eli followed her gesture. Without a word, he headed toward the splash of blue, Taya at his heels.
“William Grant?” Archer asked as they neared, his voice flat and as chilly as the wintry outdoors.
Taya suppressed a groan at his tone as the agents stopped in front of the blue-capped William. Contrasting her partner’s expression, she offered William a smile in silent greeting. Side-by-side, the two agents looked like the living version of the Comedy and Tragedy Masks.
Archer pulled his badge wallet out from an inside coat pocket. “I’m Agent Archer,” he said, opening the wallet to show proof of the statement.
Taya mimicked him, showing her own credentials with her free hand before replacing them in her coat.
“And this,” he nodded to Taya, “is—”
“Agent Taya Turner,” she introduced herself, her voice light.
Archer glared down at her for her interruption, but she ignored him. A skill she found she was getting rather good at.
She smiled warmly as she offered William her hand to shake. “Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Grant! Though, I wish it was under better circumstances.” Her smile faltered, gaining a hint of sadness.
Hidden 20 days ago Post by AutumnFrost
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AutumnFrost Legally Blind Role-player

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With his gaze regularly skimming over the crowd, William’s eyes had just glanced in the Direction of a digital clock display hanging in the window of one of the nearby establishments when his attention was snatched by the flash of yellow out of the corner of his eye. As he looked, his attention immediately focused on a little girl in a blue and yellow dress, her curls tied back with a yellow ribbon. Each of her hands were occupied by one each of her parents hands, the couple smiling at her and one another as they strategically lifted and lowered her to and from the ground as they walked, all three of them giggling. A pair of boys trailed them, the Younger of the two chatting enthusiastically with his brother about what sounded like a video game they had gotten the opportunity to test. William’s expression softened for a moment, before deepening with sadness an instant before he could pull his stoic mask back into place. With one last glance at the girl and her parents, he forcibly made himself go back to watching the crowd.

And then a powerful smell reached his nostrils, overpowering all others and making him instinctively want to wrinkle his nose or sneeze. Resisting the urge to do either, William had just glanced in the direction that he thought the smell was coming from when a rather neat and orderly looking man stepped up to him and spoke his name in a cool no nonsense voice. Briefly studying the sharp hawk like features, the Blue eyes that resemble chips of ice, he then looked towards the woman at his side, genial smile playing around her lips and Hazel eyes that was so much different than her partner‘s. Because the two had to be partners, if both recognized him. Confirming his suspicions, the sharp man reached into an inner pocket and pulled out an FBI badge, The woman doing likewise a moment later. With this establishment of identity, he finally nodded his head once to confirm his own, responding to the question he had heard when his name had been spoken. Looking from Agent Archer, As the man identified himself, to Agent Turner, a brief hint of amusement glittered in his eyes at her interruption before he hid it once again.

“Simply William will do just fine,” he responded to her in a deep even bass, taking her hand in his own and giving it a firm shake. “Though I agree about the circumstances being less than desirable. Shall we find somewhere to discuss the matter further? Or would you prefer to stay here?“ he directed this last question towards Archer, who’s frigid demeanor might give the impression that he preferred being outside in the middle of winter rather than seek refuge in a store or restaurant.
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