ʜᴜɴᴛᴇᴅ | ᴏ/ᴀ

[hellb0und]

𝖆𝖚𝖗𝖔𝖗𝖆
[removed]

as time grew the echoing but near sound of a wail rung throughout the now lively & bustling forest. i wasn't unnerved, only scoffed at the nimrod which made it. certainly sounded human, but i wasn't going to pin it to the blades, as their cries would be mournful once their fallen comrade was discovered. this sounded angered. the halting screech of rubber colliding violently with stone was what told me they heard it too. of course they had... they were far closer than i. you hadn't needed strengthened superhuman hearing to miss it. i curse and laugh manically, throwing plans and ideas around within my head. not to save whoever was going to have their head decapitated and used as a trophy, but rather how i could use them as a distraction, to my advantage. that is, if it was a werewolf as i had calculated. this would entirely exile waiting and picking any other valuable pieces of evidence up, dire parts i needed if my independent assassination plan was to be carried out. perhaps this wasn't the time to reveal myself to the rest of the blades quite yet... they'd immediately add a towering, brawny, ebony werewolf to their list. if i wasn't already on there. grunting, i made my way out of the bushes and took off. away from my recent kill, & the team i so desperately desired to murder. calling my wolf out during my run, which obeyed after a few tries and left my bones rearranging themselves into their canine form. i arrive back at the house & find everyone still alive is gathered inside, except for blair. standing on the doorstep weak and vulnerable. i move past her, showing her how little i care, and throw the door agape, leaving it swinging forcefully on it's hinges & immediately taking to stalking around. crossing my arms over my chest and clucking my tongue upon finding skylar laying half dead in the infirmary. leaving the area with a final dark chuckle and whispered words in her ear. ones i'd say straight to her face had she'd been awake. that would have to wait. her dog had watched me closely the whole time but i'd shown the mutt better than to make any moves with me. i didn't care if it was skylar's beloved pooch, i'd leave the thing mauled in two seconds flat. the next thing that caught my attention was the voices coming from the basement, along with the pleasant smell of blood. i ensured my firearm was still on me and hurried down. shooting darting glares between the three that immediately came into view. two i'd never seen before, while the other was one of our medics. my gaze spoke for me.

[Coastal Coyote]

Ooc: So my characters are going to be doing totally normal things since they have not yet encountered any madness. These posts are going to seem out of place. I'll probably keep their stuff on separate posts and ... I'm just gonna jump in and hope for the best XD

Marisol Andes
Human | Female | 27 | Entrepreneur | Open

Lips pulled down in the corners into a frown, dark gaze floating over the old coffee machine in a slow careful manner. It was broken, again. For some reason it kept stopping part way through the brewing process. So they called the owner in on one of her days off, though really she was still hard at work hand throwing mugs on the pottery wheel to add to the shop. She had a funny way of running things, a way she hadn't seen done anywhere else. It would be simpler, perhaps, if she ran her shop like a Starbucks, but Harper wasn't going to own any store she wouldn't also want to go to. Which meant making mugs on her days off. You see, when you first come into the small store, you're first impression was probably of the side wall. The whole of it covered with old boards arranged into two large herringbone patterns side by side. Beautiful in of itself, the woods all different colors of stain and levels of wornness. Over top of this, though, were industrial looking shelving and hundreds of little metal pegs. All along the shelves and hanging on each peg were mugs. Mugs of all shapes, sizes, colors and designs. Many of them were made by the owner herself, but plenty were also made by other local artists or given to her by quirky businesses or bands near by.

And that was the first step: you picked a mug and brought it to the counter. That was the cup your drink would be served in. Some people picked out their favorites over and over again, and some liked to switch it up. Your mug could be bought if you wanted it, but only after you had used it at least twice. Some of her regulars even had a label over a peg with their favorite mug waiting for them. No one else could use their mug unless they let them. Each mug was different too, though most of the ones done by Harper were following the art she grew up with in South America, though sometimes she liked to delve into art from other cultures like Norway and Germanic. And that was just the beginning. From the moment you walked into the door till the moment you walked out, it was like going on an adventure. So she made the mugs, so that for a moment the townsman could escape their stressful lives for just a moment and be somewhere else. Somewhere new.

"Can you fix it?" The boy asked, bringing the short woman back into reality. He had been working there a few months, and seemed to be doing well despite not having the same understanding of teas and coffee that she did. He worked hard and always had a smile, so she kept him on. Even let him make a mug too. "I think so." She began, her voice soft and low, full of concentration. She leaned against the counter, picking through wire cutters and rolls of pretty tapes with patterns. "I think it is just the plug. The wires might be loose." She pulled it from the outlet and carefully disassembled the plug, having to break parts of the plastic cover to see inside. Figured that would happen. Nothing some electrical tape couldn't fix, and some brighter tape on top of that. Using the pliers, she pulled the wires loose and cut them shorter. Stripped the wires and set them back into their ports. She closed the plastic case the best she could, snapping it back over the wires edge and using some of the tape to close it tightly. Dark gaze moved up to the boy's face, much taller than her, and she held up her crossed fingers with a laugh. "Here goes." With that, she plugged it in and jumped back, startled as it spurred to life.

"You did it! Thank goodness it was such an easy fix. We could really use a new one though. What if it goes out in the middle of rush?" He had a point, she knew. Harper had been looking into getting a new one for a while now, but the thought of retiring the one that got her business off the ground wasn't a great feeling. So she kept just patching it up, tweaking little things to keep it going. "Yeah you are probably right. On its last leg, poor fella." Harper then went around the counter saying hello to a few customers that were patiently waiting before she got to work serving them all. She pulled her hip length wavy black hair back, and then worked it into a thick French braid, pulling the apron around her wide hips, tying it tight on a slender waist. She helped the boy through the waiting orders before heading back out the door. There she rested, leaning back against the windows and staring out into the busy town center. A long sign, and her arms wrapped around herself in a comforting way.

Yes, she would have to replace her old companion. What a loyal machine though...

Ooc: ... D8 that is WAY LONGER than anticipated DX. Brain too tired. Will post for Lance tomorrow.

[littlewolf5000]

✦ 𝓚𝓪𝓽𝓱𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓮 𝓚𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼𝓽𝓸𝓷 ✦

{ Species } Blade { Role } Agent { Tags} D'arc, Blair, Emery { Crush } open

As the massive black hued wolf came bounding forwards my mind purely out of habit drew the pistol i had recently secured in my waistband both leveling and cocking it as i eyed the monstrous beast attention locked on it until i saw from the corner of my eye the sudden movements D'arc wordlessly ordered mind putting them together as easily as a puzzle i had done a million times over and stared at him unsurely for a moment inwardly unhappy about his stratagy though i knew it was logic however with him already wounded i didn't enjoy not being within arms reach, but he was the leader for a reason he had to know what he was doing. quickly springing into action after a few moments i began to retreat as subtly as i could without drawing attention to myself or, even worse sending the currently docile wolf into a violent attack. Taking hardly time at all i took my position unhappily on the other side of the truck, in a spot where i could at least get a clear shot of the canine but also where i could move easily had it decided to lunge. Now silent as i constantly glanced to D'arc out of the corner of my eye i studied the beings behavior, one that was much different then the previous we had encountered over the span of the last twenty-four hours who typically dove right into an attack, where as this one seemed to be almost friendly with its rump in the air and tongue flailing from its agape mouth, the gesture causing my brows to fur was it sick? stupid? regardless of whatever dead wish mind set it was in i cursed to myself as it did make my apperently still intact girly emotions begin to surface despite thinking i had myself trained to ignore them in situations like this it looked just like a house dog, similar to the one we saw dead in the snow days ago. Shaking my head i licked my lips no, i wouldn't let this killing machine in my mind, it was one of the things that killed Alistar, Jin and came close to killing me and D'arc this one would do just fine in an cold laboratory in some secluded area.

↩ 𝓐𝓭𝓪𝓶 𝓗𝓪𝓵𝓮 ↪

{ Species } Werewolf { Role } Fighter { Tags } Anyone at the pack house { Crush } Open
▙ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ▟

The continous amount of questions that rained from the eighteen year old's mouth caused an inward heavy sigh from me, though of course on the outside i ensured i remained calm, relaxed as she continued to express her concerns licking my lips as i set my now empty mug in the sink waiting for her to at least pause so i could at least begin to ease her racing mind thought hadn't the chance to get a word in edge wise before she then asked about the rest of the pack, from sky to the guy with a massive death wish in the basement, the questions that caused me to rub my eyes with my thumb and pointer finger and exhale sharply my own mind thinking over the current situations lacing throughout the pack house as i tried to figure out how to explain it without upsetting the girl futher only letting out a light chuckle as she explained she'd hold me to my previous words, of course she would. "Heh, i hoped you forgot about that"I spoke honestly before removing my hand from my eyes and looking to her once more thinking it over before nodding with a click of my tongue "Alright, miss Aleksandrsen" I began before listening to the last name of the comatose beta roll off my tongue and narrowed my eyes i had never addressed her as such, and didn't intend on beginning now "Skylar for now is very ill, the weapons the disgraces used had an higher silver count then we first thought much higher then what was used on you or even me" I continued, referring to a few days prior "because of this, she will need a blood transfusion, however until we can find a suitable doner Jason suggested to keep her under, so until we can properly get her fixed up, she did appoint me alpha" I added, the last statement however causing my head to fall back towards the ceiling with another heavy sigh "don't ask me why i have no idea"
I breathed
My hand which, unknowingly to me had been tapping on the counter the whole time i spoke of m- skylar finally falling still as i glanced towards the basement door which held the next problem i had to deal with and clenched my jaw silently as i glared daggers into the wooden object " As for him, i honestly have no idea yet, but until we get it under control i want you to stay far away from the demon as you can, understood? i don't want you getti-" I was suddenly cut off abruptly as the front door several people had busted through over the last several days so much i was surprised it was still standing slammed against the wall, the sound instantly causing me to stand fully up right and to take a few steps forwards the enterence where i saw Aurora stalking through the stench of blood clinging heavily to her clothes causing my nose to wrinkle and gaze to narrow a verbal growl sounding as i watched the likely insane fighter make her way into where my girl lay defenseless about to walk up and grab her when she leaned over the girl in question but somehow refrained myself as she soon stalked away though where she went next didn't help my already alarming amount of anger i had towards her instantly causing me to brush passed emmy after ensuring she was staying put.

About to charge down the stares after the too full of herself fighter i was stopped short, the sudden ragged breathing that rang in my ears causing my head to snap in the direction they came from, my gaze instantly widening as i spotted Blair hardly standing at all in the door way with a very worried expression, looking from her back to where Aurora had went i thought for a moment before quickly deciding without second thought what issue i would give my full attention first and half leaned into the basement just past the door way and in a dangerously firm voice growled down to the fighter "Aurora don't make me come down there, if i do i'm tranquilizing you're ass and you won't like me when you wake up" The order to return upstairs given with the tone not to doubt my words i turned towards the front door and quickly walked over reaching Blairs side with ease and gently held her up assisting her inside and walking, or practically carring her into the kitchen i set her at the counter near emmy, fetching a bottle of water from the fridge and opening it before handing it to the worked up fighter i knelt before her, much like i had emmy minutes before "Blair? Blair what happen?"I then asked, tone still serious but drastically calmer then it had been only a moment prior as i glanced comfortingly to emmy assuring her it'd be okay before returning my attention back to blair

[Coastal Coyote]

Lance Vaugner
Werewolf | Male | 31 | Media Assets Manager/ Rogue | Open...ish

A furious clicking of keys ensued, drawing the attention of everyone in the small coffee shop. Patrons looked away as quickly as they had turned, accustomed to the tall red headed man and his Surface Pro. He was a regular much like them, and always seemed to be working while he was there. Answering e-mail after e-mail after the 152nd e-mail. Checking proofs, drop boxes full of high res images with subjects ranging from high fashion to politics to cultural studies and everything in between. The man worked for the only major publication in the area, who not only released an exemplary magazine every month, but also the newspapers, ads, even books and small quarterlies for the town. It was the only one reasonably close enough to the town that he lived to make it feasible, so the Mayor had made a contract with them over a decade ago. It was a sweet deal, but it sure meant a lot of work for Lance, who oversaw every photo, graphic, and even text. Not that he minded. It was pretty interesting work, if he was being honest. But it sure made for a lot of e-mails to answer. Constantly... Head turned back, looking over his shoulder as Sam and the store's owner, whom he still didn't know the name of, were standing about the coffee machine that suddenly sputtered back to life with a jolt. Kind of loud, especially for a coffee machine. They should really get a new one. It took a bit, but he peeled his eyes away from the two and then back around the room.

His attention was snagged by a pretty blond girl that gave him a once over and seemed to smile in approval. Likely she would try to come over. She was good looking enough; a bottle blond but with a good figure and fair face. She was also, he was pretty sure, no older than 20. While it was flattering, Lance had no wish to entertain a teenager. That, and he had much better fish to fry. In mind? How did that go? He smiled faintly and returned to his e-mails when the owner approached his table. His mug was sitting next to the tablet, waiting to be filled, and she had come to pick it up. She was short, a whole foot shorter than he was, and the color of black tea with a whole lot of milk and sugar. Eyes so dark, like the eyes of a doe. A pleasant face to see during his visits. "I'm so sorry for the wait. Your usual, Sir?" She asked, with a voice that could lull him to sleep. "Yes please, and I don't mind." Lance watched her take the cup away, a simple dark green one with trees carved into the sides. It wasn't long before she approached him again, cup in hand. She set it down with a quick "enjoy" before moving on to the next table.

He shifted in his seat, trying to find a more comfortable position and took a sip of his hot Cuban coffee, spiced with cinnamon and nutmeg, with a dash of almond milk. Not the most imaginative combination in the place, but it suited him well. Warm and pleasant, like relaxing in front of a fire on a cool autumn evening. It was strange how one sip could take him far away, back to a simpler time. Back to when his mother was still alive... He came back to the present quickly though, with the familiar "ping" of a new message. A quick look at his phone told him it was one of the copywriters asking for details on one of the photographers so they could gather more Intel on his latest project.

This job afforded him the unique opportunity of having access to loads of information. It was how he knew which events were coming up that he could take his girlfriend- er... previous girlfriends to, or things he might want to do alone. It was also how he learned of the passing of two familiar faces from his past: the Alpha and his mate. How hard the tall well dressed man had to work to conciel the look of triumph when he first saw their names to be entered into the various newspapers or records. Not that any but a werewolf would know what position they held before their untimely and probably much deserved demise. Maybe now the human casualties would finally cease. While he had not personally executed them, the rogue had been compiling data on Greg for some time now, trying to determine if there was a link. While he hadnt yet found the link, he felt like he was close. Someone within the pack was doing it, or perhaps the pack as a whole. But why? While there had been a few within the pack while he was also a member that had a deep seeded hatred for humans, the rest of them ranged from not caring either way to actually befriending humans and wanting to live among them. And Lance had already seen to the few human killers in the pack that he knew of. Or... the few that he knew were purposeful. But the recent deaths were not usual. Not at all. With Greg gone, though, it should be cleared up.

And yet it wasn't. Or, he was pretty sure it wasn't over. Striking blue eyes shifted their gaze from his phone to the computer, and then danced out across the room. They were all in danger, and yet sat around laughing and talking with each other like everything was okay. It will be. He told himself, again shifting in his seat. I can't let this happen again. He would have to see if he could figure out who was to replace the Alpha. His mind immediately went back to the boy, Adam. Or, he considered him a boy. Adam had joined the pack not long before Lance quit it. Three years ago now, was that right? Lance had seen much promise in the young man, separated from his family and all on his own, and yet he hadn't let that out him down. Strength of character, tenacity. Very good traits, especially for a werewolf. They were a form of human for sure, but were still animalistic. That could not be ignored, and often Lance observed that it caused heightened emotions. When something good happened it was hard to contain one's self, and when something terrible happened it was nearly impossible to refrain from ripping someone apart or losing yourself completely to depression. Neither of each were good. He had admired that in their newest member, and often saught him out to try and teach him everything he could. It was almost like having a little brother, though he was an only child. But...

But he would likely never be able to look at him the same way as he once had. Now all he saw was another threat to human lives. If his mother had not been killed shortly beforehand, perhaps Lance could havd understood. But not like this. Still... Still he needed to know the state of the pack now, to know who was calling the shots and if there had been anymore human disappearances. It was an option. He packed up his tablet and headed for the door, slightly hastening his steps to avoid speaking to the bottle blond who had just gotten up to stop him by the door. He slid past just in case, though knew he'd be seeing her again during his regular visits. Passing the shop owner he turned back and gave a smile, thanked her for the delicious coffee as always, and walked over to his Civic. Would he even know the way? Would anyone be there now? It was worth a try, or that is what he told himself as he turned the key.

[yeena]

DANNY • WEREWOLF MEDIC • TAGGED; Mark, Aspat

xxxxDanny flinched slightly when Mark raised his voice; the yelling caught him off guard, making him grip the peroxide rag that he had grabbed tighter in his hand. It didn't take long before he was regaining his composure, turning to look at Mark behind him with soft eyes. He could feel a stronger bit of emotion coming from Mark when he had said that; there was the sharp sting of something besides anger in those words. Alas, the medic couldn't put his finger on it so he just gave Mark a small smile as to try and relax the other male. Yelling wasn't too good for the health; it made anxiety and tension rise, in most situations. It caused the body to heat up and the mind to get a little more clouded. It was a wonder why yelling doesn't usually get anyone anywhere. Turning back to Aspat, he let out a little sigh and started to get back to work on the other man's wrist.
xxxxIt looked terrible, to say the least. The medic wasn't queasy towards horrendous wounds anymore, mainly due to his years doing medic-related tasks, but this didn't look too good. He vaguely remembered Aspat mentioning that some female bit him, which made him click his tongue almost nervously. A werewolf tended to have extremely strong jaws; after all, they were some mutant wolves that ran around. Regardless, Danny figured that he best start doing something as opposed to sitting and staring at the wound. With an extremely careful and light grip around the base of Aspat's arm, he started to dab the wet rag against the cuts and where he noticed some blood. Hopefully the peroxide would not only clean the wounds but also clear away some of the red and white mess on Aspat's arm; it would be super beneficial to Danny if it did that, at least.
xxxxAlthough most of his attention was focused on the rag and where it was going, he would sometimes cast glances up Aspat's arm and to his face; just to check for any sort of reactions. Pain was to be expected from this, especially when it came to cleaning wounds, but he could easily adjust to a new method of cleaning if his patient expressed a mild amount of discomfort. Small flinches and winces were acceptable to him, at least; his patient could live if they were only being affected that much. Blowing air from his lips, Danny stared down at the arm he was holding and the rag. It was already starting to look less bloody. "Not too much longer, just some other spots and we'll be done here." He said quietly, almost to himself. Did he mention that Peroxide had a sharp smell? Well, peroxide had a horribly sharp smell. It wasn't anything that he hadn't smelt before but he had never been able to adjust to the smell of peroxide, oddly enough.

[L U C I F E R]

☆|Aspat Hawking|☆|Male|☆
☆|Single|☆|Werewolf Hunter|☆
☆|Tags: Danny, Mark|☆

Aspat watched him work. He winced slightly as the freshly molded plaster waxed his arm. He wasn't one to admit it, but he cpuld walk off a bullet wound but waxing stung like a son of a-

Despite hyperbolic agony, Aspat let his mind merely wonder to no less than the last 24 hours. His day had started like any other: waking up on his cabin, readying his stuff before going into town to get supplies. He recalled thinking about the death of the two presumed werewolves - possibly alphas - and wondering whether he had some competition. He remembered returning home before hearing cars heading into the forest. Those cars....He still didn't know who they were or why they were here but he had followed them. That was when he had heard that girl: Blake. He'd killed a child in cold blood but not without consequence. It was those cars that had set it all in motion. Next came some teenage girl who had bit him and shattered his forearm sending him crawling to the hospital.

Aspat heard Danny speak but he was too engrossed in thinking about his rollercoaster of a day.

After the hospital he had gone for a meal and met her: Alexa... Those precious minutes were faded and distant but he remembered her face still. Alexa had been so special and unique but then it hit him. He hadn't noticed it before - God how could he be so stupid. She was a werewolf. Of course!

But what happened after that? It was fuzzy yet he remembered a sickening fever and dizziness then blood on his hands and some guy at his feet. The medic. He remembered blacking out and then here he was, behind bars being healed by werewolves. What the hell.

Aspat thought it best not to mention his most recent kill, perhaps Danny didn't know, hopefully he would never know it was him.

"That would be great." He answered, his mind coming back to the present when Danny spoke. "Thank you." He added.

☆|Emery Castellanos|☆|Male|☆
☆|Widower|☆|Werewolf|☆|Scout|☆
☆|Tags: The Blades in the forest|☆

Emery didn't know what he had expected but he sure as Hell had not thought this through. Guns are long range whereas claws are short range. Perhaps he could rely on his terribly perfected sarcasm to win this one for him.

Despite his realisation in the likelihood of him quote possibly dying, Emery stood his ground, ignoring the gruff command from the human: what right did this infidel have to give him orders?

The large, black wolf let what appeared to he a smirk pass across his whitening muzzle. His scarred shoulders lowered his front half into a play bow and his tail curled over his back into a wag.

It was not his intention to win with the power of caninine cuteness but it would definitely be a bonus if he did. No matter what, he just hoped that Blair was alright and whatever these imperfect imbeciles throigh at him, he would defend his pack and his daughter. No matter what.

Thoughts were racong through his head so fast he cpuld hardly tell what was in his imagination and what was before him. The glaring glint of the closest barbarian's barrel stared him in the eye like an evil sun. He was ready for it to come, he was sure he could just walk it off, what's one more scar? As long as he was alive his pack was safe and as long as that gun remains unfired, his survival rate remains slightly increased.

Perhaps he should attack. Perhaps he should jist wait. Either way, he wasn't going to make the first move. He'd taken his position, and so it seemed had they.

*Coming Soon*
☆|Tyler Austin|☆|Male|☆
☆|Mark is his man|☆|Human|☆|Professional Prescious boy|☆
☆|Tags: N/A|☆

[Crono]

Mark Holloway ~ Male ~ Thirty-Three ~ Werewolf ~ Loner/Former-Beta
Location: Basement ~ Tags: Danny, Aspat, Aurora

Mark had been nearly about to ask how much longer it'd take before Danny said he was almost done. The man's nose crinkling at the smell of peroxide that was slowly starting to fill the room. It was strong and therefore not the most comfortable of smells, and if he hadn't been keeping an eye on the cage hunter he would have stepped further away to avoid it if possible. This however wasn't happening, and he kept himself planted right behind Danny and within reach should anything happen. It was clear the Hawking was starting to feel the full effect of his wounds, the young man seemed to be spacing out through the flinching of having his wounds cleaned. Mark simply shifted his weight from one foot to the other, one hand on either side of the cell's entryway, both wrapped around bars however. At least the hunter was grateful for being given aid, maybe his pride wasn't as thoroughly encumbering as Mark had thought.

Hurried footsteps caught his attention however and Mark released one of the bars to turn halfway and see Aurora standing at the bottom of the stairs, glaring. That hadn't changed, he'd noted, seeing her clearly asking for answers without...actually asking. "We're making sure he doesn't die down here." Mark said simply to fill her in, holding her gaze with his eyes. It was difficult to say if she was appraised of who the prisoner was. He'd not pretend he didn't feel uncomfortable, it was the same discomfort he felt when facing the other pack members today for the first time in two years. It was always hard to gauge how the person felt about his presence since taking off, until they actually spoke to him. Thus far he'd had a surprisingly warm welcome from those he'd known from before all things considered. For the moment he couldn't say which side if the fence Aurora landed on in that regard.

[amarok.]

Emmelene Castellanos I Werewolf I Hunter I Tags; Adam, Aurora, Blair,
She wasn't sure how she had managed to keep her composure. Practise, she supposed. The familiar surroundings - how many times had she eaten here, sat out the pack meetings she wasn't allowed to attend with others her age, made drinks for her pack mates while they lounged on the hay bales of the barn - probably helped. The rapidly receding pain in her chest helped, too. It'd been a day or so, she realised with a jolt. She hadn't eaten and she hadn't slept. Suddenly, she was exhausted.
Nodding along to what Adam was saying, she barely registered the loud bang of the much-abused front door, at first. Nor the purposeful footfall echoing through the hall. Adam, of course, was on his feet in a second. The way he always was the second anything happened. The way he always seemed to know when something was wrong.
She followed, her heels clicking on the battered wooden boards as she hurried after him, with less of her usual saunter or grace than before. There wasn't time for it.
By the time she'd shaken herself awake, though, Adam was rushing back the other way, hefting a far more familiar figure in his arms.
They fought like cat and dog. Constantly. But Blair was the sister she'd never had. Eyes wide, heart pounding, she searched her for injuries as she was supported into the kitchen, hardly bearing to breathe until - with some confusion - she realised there weren't any.
"Blair?"
Underneath the sharp scent of fear, and the engine oil tang she'd always associated with the young mechanic, there was the one scent she knew better than any other. She refocused, twisting in search of him. He wasn't there, and the scent - already almost undetectable, growing fainter by the second - only worrried her more.
"Blair, where's my dad?"

Blair Strong I Werewolf I Fighter I Tags; Adam, Emmy, pack house
She called out, weakly, to Aurora as her fellow fighter stormed towards her from the woods, sliding further to the ground as the female... carried on walking. Like she didn't care.
The confusion hit her harder than the pain. Aurora was pack. Wasn't she?
She ground her teeth and forced herself upright, straight into the arms of a much more reassuring figure. With a squeak of protest, she was hefted off of her feet and almost carried straight through to the kitchen. The words gushed out like a waterfall as they moved.
"Those hunters! The ones who f- messed up Skylar. They're in the woods. We found a duffel bag of their stuff."
She took a heavy breath, lungs still crying out for oxygen even minutes after she'd ceased moving, taking the chance to point towards where she'd dropped the bag in question, somewhere just before the solid building's front door.
"Emery told me to take it and run."
She felt sick.
"We need to go and help. He's going to get himself killed."
She realised too late that there was a second person in the room. From the look of horror and fury on the young hunter's face, she wished she hadn't.

Adrian D'Arc I Human I Blade Team Leader I Tags; Kat, Emery
"Freeze!" He repeated coldly, raising his voice slightly.
There wasn't a hand signal for "don't pet it", so he improvised with an "enemy" and a "stay back", even though he knew full well that of all his troops, Katrine Kingston certainly needed the least instruction. His signals were made more out of habit than anything. To prevent any miscommunication, however unlikely that may be.
If it lunged for him, he knew Kat's chances of shooting the damn thing were better than his if their places were reversed. So, still keeping his eyes on the mutt and repeating the "protect" gesture, raising his elbow and holding his hand palm down over his head for a split second, then avancing, pistol still locked, loaded and levelled.
Was it smirking at him? He narrowed his eyes. Definitely smirking. Well, that was unnerving. To say the least.
Fifty feet. Forty feet.
He stopped at thirty five, poised evenly on his toes. Ready to dart aside if he had to. Hoping against hope he wouldn't.
"Stay exactly where you are. Do you understand?"

[littlewolf5000]

✦ 𝓚𝓪𝓽𝓱𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓮 𝓚𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼𝓽𝓸𝓷 ✦

{ Species } Blade { Role } Agent { Tags} D'arc, Blair, Emery { Crush } open

The gestures D'arc repeated flashed out of the corner of my eye as i souly focused upon the docile canine before us, pistol still locked on its target and finger on the trigger, the safey off as it waited impaciently to go off sending the silver bullet locked in its chamber into the wolf's flesh. Moving forward only as he did i stopped not directly beside him but about twenty feet from him and six behind ensuring even in my new spot in generally where he just previously stood i had a clear shot legs locked and ready for the kick of the gun whenever i had to shoot it though for now, until i did i kept a careful eye on not only the threat but my leader ready to kill without second thought to get him out of the situation as safely as i could. I didn't intend on saying anything, not wishing to distract either being knowing well if either even glanced in my direction it was an opening for the other i'd prefer to keep this interaction as calm as humanly possible who knew how many of theses mutts lurked in the shadows.
{Sorry her posts are short loves, i'm not exactly sure what to have her do other then what is already being done <3}

↩ 𝓐𝓭𝓪𝓶 𝓗𝓪𝓵𝓮 ↪

{ Species } Werewolf { Role } Fighter { Tags } Anyone at the pack house { Crush } Open
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Blair's simply protest didn't phase me in the least as i more or less carried the breath taken fighter to the kitchen with emmy beside us however the words that next rang from her mouth took me a bit by surprise, the surprise that soon morphed into a mix of pure anger and a protectiveness i had only felt around two other times something that likely showed as i glanced between the girls and then back to the door where the apparent bag laid and finally to skyler.. the demons that started all this where around and by the looks of it, much closer then i'm sure any of us were even an ounce of comfortable with. Clenching my jaw as i momentarily looked from everyone and at the wall just above their heads i let out a shaky breath, running a hand through my hair mind soon drowning out everything around, blair and emmy's voices, the conversation in the basement and the thudding of my own heart which i was sure would explode if anyone said anything else. I remained silent as i replayed where everyone was - hospital, basement, kitchen, infirmary and apparently MIA, running a hand over my face i momentarily closed my eyes, releasing another breath before turning my attention back to the pair before me, still crouched before blair as i hadn't bothered to get up and let my gaze trace over both of them they both were okay - okay in the sense they weren't knocking on deaths door and still mostly functioning and, with that assurance in mind i slowly stood up with a nod beginning to walk towards the closet i had recently fetched the eighteen year old out of and only paused to glance back at blair with a stern gaze "Nobodies dying blair" I assured ensuring Emmy too heard me though i knew i had no intention of holding that statement. Reaching the closet and swinging it open "Are you positive its the same ones who took her down?" I asked from inside the small room, grabbing a few weapons and the according ammunition nothing insanely big, a pistol and a slightly bigger semi-automatic firearm and grabbed a backpack off the hook, loading the weapons before closing the door and entering the medical room, grabbing a few basic items and tossing them too into the bag only pausing as i glanced up to see the still heavily medicated beta and shook my head licking my lips before grabbing a few more items 'don't worry i'll get em" i whispered beneath my breath as i looked into the bag, looking over what i had deciding last minute to grab a few tranquilizer darts on the way back to the kitchen i hadn't any idea what i was up against. What i did know however is these were the disgraces who started all this - the recent events replayed in my mind, we had been shot, sky was down and a likely new blood werewolf was in the basement, several of our family members were dead and it all lead back to them, the bastards who, for all i cared were the leaders did all this and i had ever intention of not coming back until they were eliminated the only thing that even remotely bothered me was i had to go alone, everyone else was where they were needed and i wasn't about to take them and put them in the line of danger if i could at least slightly contain it. Zipping the bag and swinging it over my shoulder i stopped in the door way of the kitchen with another heavy breath "Where are they blair?"

[Coastal Coyote]

Marisol Andes

Human | 27 | AffiniTea Owner | Open

Harper watched for a moment as the curious businessman walked out to his car and drove off. He came almost every day, was always alone, and always with his work. Did he ever sleep? Perhaps like her, always needing something to do. She could understand that. Harper stood straight, and turned back toward the shop. The whole front was windows, as were many along the strip, so she could see inside to the customers. Some smiled and waved to her from the inside, which she returned with a wave and a laugh herself. It was crazy. Less than a year ago she was totally broke, no where to go, living out of her SUV and selling teas to get by. And now she was here. How did it even happen? Or, what specific things happened that resulted in this? As a believer, she of course credited all of the good things in her life as gifts from God, and all the bad as him either trying to get her back on the right path or prepare her for something.

Which was hard to explain to doctors and the few people who have, accidentally or on purpose, seen her scars. They would ask questions of course, loads of questions. And she would answer, knowing that they meant well and that curiosity is very strong. But they could never understand how after all that, she could believe in any god at all, but especially a good God. But was it really so hard? Did they really not understand? For all the bad she went through, she survived. Harper shouldn't have. So many times, she shouldn't have. But she did. And although in that dark place she was utterly alone, Harper had always felt like someone was there. Right there. To comfort, and to protect.

It didn't always make sense, even to her. But there it is. And she could not deny it, nor did she want to. Slowly, she moved back toward the door and entered the shop, immediately getting back into helping customers and coming up with custom orders. All of the selections were great, but the best drinks were those that the customers allowed her to make just for them. She would look them over, maybe ask a few questions, and then head to the back. She might stand there quietly for some time, dark gaze drifting over the looseleaf containers and coffee bean tins. She might go up and smell some of them, picking out two or three with small delicate hands and opening them one at a time, taking a slow breath. All would be closed then, with the victor left out near the edge of the counters, and then she would head over to the spices and syrups. No sweetener being the same, she picked between usuals like honey and maple syrup, to nectars, other saps like Birch, even molasses. Even the types of milk she added were different, from cow to goat, coconut, almond. There were so many different ways to concoct the perfect cup. And somehow she had a strange understanding of just what to add that would be perfect for that customer at that time.

Not that Harper always got it right. Scent association was a powerful thing, and sometimes she would bring a cup out to a customer that would leave them crying. Which made her feel terrible, but strangely sometimes they would order the same thing from time to time. "To remember," they would tell her. Apparently the mixes would sometimes bring back painful memories, like someone they lost. The business man had been like that, now that she thought about it. The first cup she ever gave him. It made her want to know more about them, their lives, what hurt them so. To take some of that pain away from them. To share it with them, to carry at least part of their heavy load.

So much hurt. There was so much hurt in the world that it made it much easier to accept her own painful past and for the most part let it go. She could understand some of their pain because of it, and for that she was thankful. And you know, maybe that was the point.

Lance Vaugner

Werewolf | 31 | Media Assets Manager/Rogue | The Pack

Lance pulled the Civic to a stop behind a grove of trees. It wouldn't be of much use further in, and was already having trouble on the open terrain. Civics were made for the road, and for racing depending on who you asked. But they were less of a help when off the pavement. To reduce the amount of walking that he had ahead, Lance would have needed a truck or a Jeep. Hmm, a Jeep. Not a bad idea, now that he thought of it. He had always liked keeps, with their large windshields that showed him more of the ground ahead, their ability to climb over some smaller to medium boulders. But, though he dressed well and made more than the average Joe, he wasn't exactly rich. Or, not rich enough to just go out and buy another vehicle that he would rarely ever use. Perhaps he could afford it, actually, and he just couldn't justify the cost. Either way, he'd be okay. It was a while to go on foot, but that was alright. He liked a good stroll.

The way was familiar to him of course, as he had walked it so many times before. It was at least a year since his last visit to the gathering place of the Crimson Sky pack, but on the way there it felt like yesterday. His father still probably lived somewhere in these woods, rarely venturing out from the small cabin that he took up resident in some 20 years ago. When they first moved to this town. 20 years. Was he really that old? In his thirties. He didn't particularly mind, though. It was just a strange feeling to know he had been alive three whole decades, and yet it hadn't felt like much time at all. Anyway. They had come to this town from far out easy, his father following work. There hadn't been a pack then, so they were mostly on their own. Surrounded by humans, no one to confide in. When the Crimson Sky pack formed in the woods near by, his father had been quick to make himself and his family known to them.

He had many fond memories of these woods, and the weres that lived inside them. But now they were stained a dark red. The tall ginger man looked down to his watch to check his progress. It was a long journey, more than an hour on foot. But he was getting close. Soon he could make out the battered old building, could hear a commotion going on inside or near by. Barely, though, since he was still a ways away. Should he call first? He probably had a number left over from that time. Not that they would answer him, likely. There was a good chance that they may try to chase him off, which might be okay. He had little doubt that he could escape relatively unscathed. But since he had left without so much as a word, they may just welcome him back. It's not like he told them why he left, or what he was up to.

He had taken a few targets down since quitting the pack, but most weren't even in this town. And he doubted they would blame him much for erasing his mother's murderer from the face of the Earth, if they had ever found out it was him. Though, for their sakes it was probably better that they run him off. He stood now before the old structure, leaning on one leg and then the other. Should he knock? That might cause a slight panic. Probably didn't get many visitors. Did he care if he caused a panic? If it meant them attacking without thinking, then yeah. Lance resolved to wait for them to come out. He walked silently over to a nearby tree and leaned against it, slipping his hands into his pockets. Waiting, listening.