While it was true that Charlotte wasn't exactly comfortable in the city, she wouldn't have said that she was afraid of it. Although she got lost every time she came for a visit, the dark-haired girl had never once felt like she was in danger, or that she should never return. However, having Noah by her side made walking around in unfamiliar territory a little easier. Getting along with Noah was somewhat effortless, and his relaxed attitude was refreshing. Some of the guys she hung around were pretty high strung, even worse than some of her girlfriends, but Noah was different. She liked that about him.
After thanking him for holding the door for her, Charlotte followed Noah outside and they set off once again in the direction of this elusive restaurant. Now that she had met him, she really didn't feel like going to brunch, but asking him to hang out with her for the rest of the day might have been weird. It wasn't often that she made the first move, and this was the most forward Charlotte had ever been with a guy. Usually, they came to her if they wanted something, and on the occasion that it was the other way around, she would just hint until they got her drift. She had a feeling that wouldn't fly with Noah, though.
“Pretty much,” she nodded, taking another sip from her frozen drink, “interaction, organization, the functions of society.” Part of having a year off after high school had been for Charlotte to figure out what she wanted to do with herself, and college seemed like the best option. It helped that she had always been interested in sociology, and any kind of study that involved human nature. “It's going to sound so weird,” she prefaced with a laugh, “but I'd like to go into market research.”
Biting on her straw, Charlotte looked to Noah. “What about you? Do you want to own your own garage one day?” After all, he had already said that he liked his job.
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The fact that Aiden was being so flippant about the blatant violation of the treaty really made Isaac see red. At least the other wolves who took it upon themselves to cross the river owned up to their actions when caught. They may not have been the most pleasant creatures to deal with, but they didn't attempt to hide their reasons, and always made it clear why they were so far from home when threatened with consequence. Isaac realized that he was only one vampire, but the number would soon grow, and the dark-eyed man couldn't say that he wouldn't suggested killing this alleged alpha for his attitude alone.
Isaac was poised to speak, about to give this werewolf a telling off, when he paused. There was a vibration all around him, he could sense another being close by, and the smell that wafted toward him was a dead giveaway to another wolf in the area. There was only a low growl before the beast launched itself from between the trees, and Isaac quickly blurred from his position, intent on keeping his life. However, he had not anticipated Aiden's intervention, and considering how reckless and whimsical he had already demonstrated himself to be, being “saved” took Isaac by complete surprise.
As the brown wolf resumed his human form and began to cry, Isaac quickly pieced together what was going on. The alpha had crossed the river to retrieve his inexperienced omega, and then attempted to hide the truth in order to avoid repercussion. The boy couldn't have been more than fourteen years old, but Isaac wasn't in a forgiving mood. With the other vampires not far from the area now, Isaac had a plan, a message for the clan.
Smirking in return, Isaac balked at the idea of killing Aiden. “No,” he shook his head, chuckling and still able to feel the energy of the young wolf who was now heading for the river. “I'm going to kill your omega.”
Isaac disappeared into the night, his body a black blur amomg the trees as he quickly moved across the landscape. There wasn't much ground between himself and the young werewolf, and he intended to close the small space quickly, before the boy could reach the river. After all, no one would be able to blame the coven for protecting their territory, even though the boy was hardly a threat. It was the principle of the matter, and the guidelines of the treaty needed to be respected. While this situation wasn't exactly an eye for an eye, Isaac knew his decision would be appreciated by a handful within the coven.
Werewolves were stronger than vampires, but this one was young, inexperienced and emotionally compromised. More than likely, the trespasser thought that he would simply leave, go home and start obeying orders from the alpha again, but Isaac wasn't about to let that happen. He caught the boy around the neck, which produced a yelp from Charles as they tumbled to the ground. Before the boy could shift and become more dangerous, Isaac twisted his hands and a loud crack echoed through the forest.
He let the body fall from his hands, showing no sympathy for his actions. He wouldn't even lower himself to drink from the boy, a message in itself about the blood that ran through the clan's veins; they were filthy, not worthy of fang, not even worthy of being spilled to the dirt-covered forest floor.
Seconds later, a sister from the coven was standing next to him. Circe was older by hundreds of years, but still only looked to be in her mid-twenties. Her long, black hair was parted down the center, and the moonlight shone from it beautifully. Her red-painted lips curved into a smile at the sight of the boy. “Nice work,” she said, crossing her arms. “Where is alpha?”
Obviously, she had been in the area, sent to keep an eye on him. “Not far behind, I imagine.”
Isaac was poised to speak, about to give this werewolf a telling off, when he paused. There was a vibration all around him, he could sense another being close by, and the smell that wafted toward him was a dead giveaway to another wolf in the area. There was only a low growl before the beast launched itself from between the trees, and Isaac quickly blurred from his position, intent on keeping his life. However, he had not anticipated Aiden's intervention, and considering how reckless and whimsical he had already demonstrated himself to be, being “saved” took Isaac by complete surprise.
As the brown wolf resumed his human form and began to cry, Isaac quickly pieced together what was going on. The alpha had crossed the river to retrieve his inexperienced omega, and then attempted to hide the truth in order to avoid repercussion. The boy couldn't have been more than fourteen years old, but Isaac wasn't in a forgiving mood. With the other vampires not far from the area now, Isaac had a plan, a message for the clan.
Smirking in return, Isaac balked at the idea of killing Aiden. “No,” he shook his head, chuckling and still able to feel the energy of the young wolf who was now heading for the river. “I'm going to kill your omega.”
Isaac disappeared into the night, his body a black blur amomg the trees as he quickly moved across the landscape. There wasn't much ground between himself and the young werewolf, and he intended to close the small space quickly, before the boy could reach the river. After all, no one would be able to blame the coven for protecting their territory, even though the boy was hardly a threat. It was the principle of the matter, and the guidelines of the treaty needed to be respected. While this situation wasn't exactly an eye for an eye, Isaac knew his decision would be appreciated by a handful within the coven.
Werewolves were stronger than vampires, but this one was young, inexperienced and emotionally compromised. More than likely, the trespasser thought that he would simply leave, go home and start obeying orders from the alpha again, but Isaac wasn't about to let that happen. He caught the boy around the neck, which produced a yelp from Charles as they tumbled to the ground. Before the boy could shift and become more dangerous, Isaac twisted his hands and a loud crack echoed through the forest.
He let the body fall from his hands, showing no sympathy for his actions. He wouldn't even lower himself to drink from the boy, a message in itself about the blood that ran through the clan's veins; they were filthy, not worthy of fang, not even worthy of being spilled to the dirt-covered forest floor.
Seconds later, a sister from the coven was standing next to him. Circe was older by hundreds of years, but still only looked to be in her mid-twenties. Her long, black hair was parted down the center, and the moonlight shone from it beautifully. Her red-painted lips curved into a smile at the sight of the boy. “Nice work,” she said, crossing her arms. “Where is alpha?”
Obviously, she had been in the area, sent to keep an eye on him. “Not far behind, I imagine.”
Take your time! :3 I don't ever rush anyone.
During her time at school, Allison had met people from all around the world, but she had yet to meet a person from Finland. Torsten was the first, and she suspected he would be the only one for quite some time, but he certainly represented his people well. If all Finns were this nice and courteous, she may just have to visit the country one day. It was also rather interesting that his parents were physicists, and she imagined that the bearded man had grown up with a second hand knowledge of nuclear power, the same way she had with knowledge of a courtroom and the judicial process. Those two subjects couldn't have been further apart.
Accepting the knife from him, Allison got to work on slicing the vegetables. Her steady hand produced straight and consistent cuts each time, coming from years of hands on practice and nights spent in the lab building up the necessary hours to earn a credit. Medicine and surgery came naturally to Allison, but cooking did not. Most often than the young doctor would have liked to admit, she ended up eating whatever was around and quick. It wasn't the most healthy diet in the world, which was ironic, but not uncommon in her field—especially among people her age. A home cooked meal sounded like heaven, and Allison was only happy to contribute.
As the stew simmered away over the fire, Allison started to clean up, figuring it was the polite thing to do. The water that ran from the tap flowed freely, without interruption and the only indication that something wasn't quite right was the temperature. No matter which was she turned the faucet handle, the water stayed the same temperature. Always one to reason things away, deduce and minimize, Allison equated the cold water with the mountains. Torsten probably didn't have the most up to date plumbing system, so Allison settled for giving the knife a rinse.
That accent of his was quite endearing, and Allison found herself smiling as she nodded. “I do. I start my residency at the OHSU teaching hospital on Monday,” she explained. “I was coming from Boston,” she gestured in the appropriate direction of the city, thousands of miles away now.
Crossing from the kitchen back into the living space, the dark-haired woman was drawn to the pictures on the walls. The photographs told a story and Allison easy got a sense of who Torsten was; adventurous, hard working and very brave. She turned back to him, hands settling into her pockets once more. “What do you do?” she asked, wondering if he was a scientist like his parents, but studying in a different field, or if he had just decided to live in the a beautiful, secluded place after his tour of duty. Allison didn't have much experience when it came to psychology, and she knew that many soldiers were left with invisible wounds from the war. Torsten seemed to have it all together.
Accepting the knife from him, Allison got to work on slicing the vegetables. Her steady hand produced straight and consistent cuts each time, coming from years of hands on practice and nights spent in the lab building up the necessary hours to earn a credit. Medicine and surgery came naturally to Allison, but cooking did not. Most often than the young doctor would have liked to admit, she ended up eating whatever was around and quick. It wasn't the most healthy diet in the world, which was ironic, but not uncommon in her field—especially among people her age. A home cooked meal sounded like heaven, and Allison was only happy to contribute.
As the stew simmered away over the fire, Allison started to clean up, figuring it was the polite thing to do. The water that ran from the tap flowed freely, without interruption and the only indication that something wasn't quite right was the temperature. No matter which was she turned the faucet handle, the water stayed the same temperature. Always one to reason things away, deduce and minimize, Allison equated the cold water with the mountains. Torsten probably didn't have the most up to date plumbing system, so Allison settled for giving the knife a rinse.
That accent of his was quite endearing, and Allison found herself smiling as she nodded. “I do. I start my residency at the OHSU teaching hospital on Monday,” she explained. “I was coming from Boston,” she gestured in the appropriate direction of the city, thousands of miles away now.
Crossing from the kitchen back into the living space, the dark-haired woman was drawn to the pictures on the walls. The photographs told a story and Allison easy got a sense of who Torsten was; adventurous, hard working and very brave. She turned back to him, hands settling into her pockets once more. “What do you do?” she asked, wondering if he was a scientist like his parents, but studying in a different field, or if he had just decided to live in the a beautiful, secluded place after his tour of duty. Allison didn't have much experience when it came to psychology, and she knew that many soldiers were left with invisible wounds from the war. Torsten seemed to have it all together.
Oh, thank you :3 I'm glad you liked it. I'm really looking forward to your reply.
Okay! I just wasn't sure if you wanted to play her siblings or not, and I didn't want to end up stepping on toes sometime down the road, so I thought I would ask just to be on the safe side.
Haha, yesss. I'm so ready for it!
Haha, yesss. I'm so ready for it!
It was clear that Noah wasn't going to let her pay him back right then, and Charlotte didn't know how she felt about that. She knew that it wasn't a huge loss, a cup of coffee wasn't going to break the bank, but the dark-haired girl had principles and manners, and she wanted to make their meeting up to him somehow. It didn't help that he insisted on paying for her, and she already felt spoiled enough in comparison to him. He clearly worked hard, and she...spent her summers having brunch and going to the beach. On those grounds alone, he should have accepted her money.
“You can hold doors for me,” she grinned back, replacing her wallet in her bag as she was left with the lingering feel of his hand on hers for the second time that day. “But I'm going to pay you back somehow, bet on it.” Only, she wasn't sure how just yet.
As they waited for their drinks, Charlotte quickly excused herself to the bathroom to try and clean up her feet and shoes. Thankfully, it was early in the day and the public restroom was fairly clean. The spilled coffee came off her skin easily, and a few passes with a wet paper towel over her sandals had them looking fairly decent again. She hardly thought anyone would be looking at her feet and judging her. She spent a little extra time in the bathroom, fixing her hair and touching up her light make up quickly before returning to Noah at the counter.
Charlotte took a sip of her smoothie after it was given to her by the woman behind the counter, and savored the fresh, strawberry flavor. “Thanks for this, by the way,” she said, kind of bummed that she was still on her way to brunch. “You're pretty nice for someone who had their morning coffee dumped on the sidewalk.”
“You can hold doors for me,” she grinned back, replacing her wallet in her bag as she was left with the lingering feel of his hand on hers for the second time that day. “But I'm going to pay you back somehow, bet on it.” Only, she wasn't sure how just yet.
As they waited for their drinks, Charlotte quickly excused herself to the bathroom to try and clean up her feet and shoes. Thankfully, it was early in the day and the public restroom was fairly clean. The spilled coffee came off her skin easily, and a few passes with a wet paper towel over her sandals had them looking fairly decent again. She hardly thought anyone would be looking at her feet and judging her. She spent a little extra time in the bathroom, fixing her hair and touching up her light make up quickly before returning to Noah at the counter.
Charlotte took a sip of her smoothie after it was given to her by the woman behind the counter, and savored the fresh, strawberry flavor. “Thanks for this, by the way,” she said, kind of bummed that she was still on her way to brunch. “You're pretty nice for someone who had their morning coffee dumped on the sidewalk.”
Paying it forward, and being charitable hadn't always been a philosophy that James had lived by. It was only within the last two years that he had really started to give back, his guilty conscience getting the better of him after his father's indictment. It was hard to think that the best of everything he had while growing up had been afforded by organized crime, scum that broke the backs of put upon people, only to prop up the rich. That was a deciding factor in distancing himself from the whole family—moving away, changing his last name-- that was only the beginning. Now there was charity work, getting involved in his community and giving back, and now that included paying for some stranger's coffee.
Apparently, the gesture surprised the man and James chuckled to himself over the look on his face. He supposed, in a place like New York, random acts of kindness were few and far between when it came to rush hour. Discarding his red, coffee stirrer into the trash bin before replacing the lid on his cup. “No problem,” he replied easily, appreciating that this guy at least had some manners. Far too often he had encountered rude people around the city, and as someone who came from D.C., he really didn't understand it.
It was now James' turn to be surprised as the handsome stranger with good taste continued the conversation. It was small talk, sure, but James didn't mind. He didn't have many friends since moving to the city, and it had been hard for him to meet new people. With the exception of a few friends and a guy who lived in his apartment building, James was alone and that got painfully boring way too often. If this man was reaching out, James would gladly reach back.
“Yeah, across the street actually,” he said, nodding toward the hospital that could be seen out the window. “It's my first day. Where are you headed?” He guessed somewhere a little more uptown, probably in an office building, or possibly to bed—the guy looked a little tired.
Apparently, the gesture surprised the man and James chuckled to himself over the look on his face. He supposed, in a place like New York, random acts of kindness were few and far between when it came to rush hour. Discarding his red, coffee stirrer into the trash bin before replacing the lid on his cup. “No problem,” he replied easily, appreciating that this guy at least had some manners. Far too often he had encountered rude people around the city, and as someone who came from D.C., he really didn't understand it.
It was now James' turn to be surprised as the handsome stranger with good taste continued the conversation. It was small talk, sure, but James didn't mind. He didn't have many friends since moving to the city, and it had been hard for him to meet new people. With the exception of a few friends and a guy who lived in his apartment building, James was alone and that got painfully boring way too often. If this man was reaching out, James would gladly reach back.
“Yeah, across the street actually,” he said, nodding toward the hospital that could be seen out the window. “It's my first day. Where are you headed?” He guessed somewhere a little more uptown, probably in an office building, or possibly to bed—the guy looked a little tired.
Are we treating the family as NPC, or are there characters you'd really like to control?
Also, I feel like they're going to get into it and I'm excited, haha.
Also, I feel like they're going to get into it and I'm excited, haha.
Their bodies still fit together like a puzzle, and it made Teddy sick with nostalgia to think that after all this time, there was something there for him. Asking Victoire to dance was proving to be a bigger and bigger mistake for as long as the two of them held one another, swaying to the soft music. Several times after their parting, Teddy had tried to convince himself that the relationship would not have worked out anyway, that they were too young, too inexperienced for things like love and devotion. In that same thought, though, Teddy would recall knowing that the blond girl was the one at only the tender age of sixteen. Those same feelings had never left, they just meant something different now.
Teddy didn't think that Victoire sounded overly excited or thrilled with her work at the hospital, which left a bitter taste in his mouth since that was a large part of why they had broken up. He wanted to say something about it, but there was no sense in causing a scene, especially not when the family was inconspicuously waiting with baited breath for a row to break out.
“Congratulations,” said Teddy, his voice neutral. At the very least, he could be proud of her for accomplishing her goals. “Healing is...noble. Good for you.” Victoire was giving, and considerate, so her career choice had always made sense to him. The choice had never been the problem.
As they danced, Teddy found himself hyperaware of her hand on his shoulder, and her delicate fingers clasped in his own. It was agony and bliss all at once, and still, Teddy was unable to deduce just one of his feelings. They were all mixed together, washing over him like violent waves before a storm. In sharp contrast, Victoire seemed fine, completely unaffected and only dancing with him in order to be polite. It had been foolish of him to hope that she hadn't moved on, and to think that he wasn't alone in his silly pipe dream of getting back together having closure.
His internal, downward spiral was interrupted when Victoire turned the question around on him, her bell-like voice burning his ears as they danced. “I work for the paper now, the Prophet,” he explained. “It's mostly pictures, but I travel a lot. Sometimes I write the sports column.” He felt too chatty with that explanation, sure that Victoire didn't really care what he had been up to. Teddy assumed that she didn't read the paper, or else she would have come across his name on an article every now and then.
Although Teddy had never expected to write for the Daily Prophet, he had done his fair share of hard-hitting pieces; a handful of which he was truly proud of. Taking his career seriously had been the first step to adulthood and it was staggering to think how much he had changed—how much they had both changed.
Teddy didn't think that Victoire sounded overly excited or thrilled with her work at the hospital, which left a bitter taste in his mouth since that was a large part of why they had broken up. He wanted to say something about it, but there was no sense in causing a scene, especially not when the family was inconspicuously waiting with baited breath for a row to break out.
“Congratulations,” said Teddy, his voice neutral. At the very least, he could be proud of her for accomplishing her goals. “Healing is...noble. Good for you.” Victoire was giving, and considerate, so her career choice had always made sense to him. The choice had never been the problem.
As they danced, Teddy found himself hyperaware of her hand on his shoulder, and her delicate fingers clasped in his own. It was agony and bliss all at once, and still, Teddy was unable to deduce just one of his feelings. They were all mixed together, washing over him like violent waves before a storm. In sharp contrast, Victoire seemed fine, completely unaffected and only dancing with him in order to be polite. It had been foolish of him to hope that she hadn't moved on, and to think that he wasn't alone in his silly pipe dream of getting back together having closure.
His internal, downward spiral was interrupted when Victoire turned the question around on him, her bell-like voice burning his ears as they danced. “I work for the paper now, the Prophet,” he explained. “It's mostly pictures, but I travel a lot. Sometimes I write the sports column.” He felt too chatty with that explanation, sure that Victoire didn't really care what he had been up to. Teddy assumed that she didn't read the paper, or else she would have come across his name on an article every now and then.
Although Teddy had never expected to write for the Daily Prophet, he had done his fair share of hard-hitting pieces; a handful of which he was truly proud of. Taking his career seriously had been the first step to adulthood and it was staggering to think how much he had changed—how much they had both changed.
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