Lone Artist

While his nose may be out of the equation, Noah still had his ears. And they were every bit as keen as his nose. He stills in place, head cocked to the side while he listens. Listens beyond the sounds of a city in chaos, beyond his own heartbeat, holds his breath until he can…

There.

A heartbeat. 

Quickly he turns towards it and starts across the carnage for it. He’s grateful for his mask for more than just protection from the gas. He already knows what nightmares he’d be exposed to and doesn’t want to have his Alpha strength turned on those around him. His mask also keeps the stench out, he doesn’t need to smell it to know it’s bad. It’s going to stick to his uniform, his gear for days, maybe even weeks. “Hello?” he calls again pitching his voice towards concern, towards something kind despite the volume “I’m coming your way try…try not to lash out, that won’t end well for either of us…” 

His words might be futile. For all he knew, they were falling on deaf ears. But what his own ears did lead him to was a man. A man with bloody hands and fear plain as day on his face. Noah returns his axe to the holster on his back and holds his hands up, palms flat out in a show of open surrender. Of peace. “Hey there…my name’s Jamison…can you…understand me?” 

God he wished he could smell. He wished he could pick up on the subtle shift of emotions. Of species. He hated being blind because it limited him, no…it crippled him. And he couldn’t afford to be crippled in this situation. Slowly he steps forward with clear action, like approaching a wounded animal “I’m here to help…to get you someplace safe…that sounds nice, yeah?”

Lash out.

It was almost a comical thought for a wolf like Henry-- who had spent the better part of his life trapped in a pack who so commonly abused him. He’d learned that fighting back only made others hit back harder. It’s why he remained cowered in on himself, even as the other approached.

Nostrils flared as he got close-- even through the man’s suit he could smell the reek of Alpha coming off of him in waves.

The wolf only pulled back in himself as flashes of his past made him cower from the man.

   “I did everything--- I-I did as I was t-told... Don’t k-kill me...”

It was a desperate plea, but all Henry could see was a man who was there to kill him. An Alpha who had found him from his pack and decided that it was time that he was put out of his misery.

@abusedomega​

event; 001 // Noah Jamison & Henry D’Angelo  Noah // status : unaffected

There was many a chapter in his life that Noah could say was difficult. Many a page really. Stretches of Hell punctuated with joy, almost like an afterthought. In all his years of living in Cyanide City however, this had to be one of the worst weeks he’d ever had. If not for both the boon of his Alpha strengths and werewolf nature, he would have burned out long ago. As it was, it seemed there was no end to fires, both literal and otherwise, that needed attention. Their supply of compressed air was finate and rotating the men out between quarantine and work was just as exhausting. 

Some of them had been compromised. Which was painful to witness. Painful to shut down. Locking his coworkers, no his family, away at the station to sweat it out was feeling more and more like another nail in the coffin. And Noah wasn’t eager to be lowered into the ground just yet. He’d driven himself over to this part of the city with only two refills for his canisters, they were low on both manpower and supplies and as such had to ration everything. He tried not to think of his son and the simple fact that he hadn’t heard from him yet. 

Even if it was churning in his gut like something poisonous. 

He walks down the sidewalk, eyeing the chaos that remained around him with a worry that was masked by his, well, mask. This part of the city had been hit hard. There were bodies. Human, mostly from what he could tell, he couldn’t rely on his nose with the filtration system in place and could only go on appearance alone. The briefing released to him had stated that humans were rendered unconscious a whopping ninety-five percent of the time from exposure and the remaining five percent’s hysterics were so powerful that their bodies simply shut down. 

Which was for the best. There was clear signs of the supernatural everywhere which meant a cleanup crew would have to be called over, he makes a mental note of that. But by this point, a cleanup crew was going to be needed for the entire city. His emotions continue to be heavy with every step, sorrow and guilt for not being here to help. So caught up in such a spiral he almost doesn’t notice that he’s no longer alone, he’d not been attempting to keep quiet. He was still dressed in his gear, it was very heavy as such; stealth was not an option. Even if it was nothing more than a particularly heavy bag to the Alpha. 

It was only keen hearing that had alerted him to the movement of life but its source was difficult to pinpoint. Noah adjusted the grip on his axe and calls out with a voice heavy with worry “Is someone there?” he tries to let his authority colour the words because it’s a point of comfort in a crisis “I’m with the emergency services sent to this sector,” well, he lead a chapter of said emergency services but there was no need to get specific “Please. If you can hear me please give me some indication of how I can help.”

Fear was such a regular emotion for the wolf, that the sudden surge of overwhelming fear only did one thing to Henry-- it made him spiral into a certain darkness that he hadn’t touched in many years.

   --Normally, the wolf would turn to his paints from some reprieve. Instead, he had found himself wandering the street, eyes dark and mind churning. Fear was a strange thing for a wolf like Henry. So much of his life had been spent in fear. Fear of breathing, fear of just existing.

It made him more prepared for the on slight if only slightly.

  The sound of another voice had him scurrying, taking to the shadows to hide his form away in a way that hadn’t been needed since he had been taken from the clutches of his pack. He’d been allowed into the light for years now, but the fear made him want to avoid everyone and anything that could possibly result in punishment.

There was blood on the tip of his fingers, but from what Henry couldn’t recall. His eyes wide and his body tense as the man got closer.

He was not artistic and didn’t have any skill that made him privy to the other’s vision. He could only appreciate it with his talentless eyes. But, Isak did have nice taste. And consequently, an office that ended decor. Now seemed like the perfect opportunity to hire someone from the city to do the decor if he was interested in a job.

“I was actually looking for an artist to commission a few pieces from to put in my office and lobby. I didn’t want to find someone well known. I wanted someone from this city that could use the exposure. I am actually… the mayor… so it’s really important to be to support Cyanide’s artists. Would you be interested in coming up with a few pieces to fit the aesthetic of the office?”

   Exposure. Henry wasn’t sure exposure was something that interested him.

The art he did was never about others or the money he might make from it. It was always about freeing his mind; of allowing himself a moment to breathe when the world seemed to be falling down on him. As for the other being the mayor-- it was a title he cared little about. Very human. Something that the Omega was very much not so.

   “I... work more-- abstractly.”

He nodded as just those couple of words wee spoken. It was those distorted and abstract paintings that were among Samson’s favorites, despite the mood they came from. It was comforting in the way Henry just moved with him, the two so naturally taking to each other’s presence. The Beta closed his eyes at the feeling of the slight weight of his head laying on his chest, and like clockwork his hand came up to run idly along his back. It was somewhat a relief that nothing new was bothering Henry, but still troubling that the same things were. He didn’t know how to help ease the Omega’s mind from all of that, but Samson made it clear that he was there for him. Maybe there was comfort in the fact that he knew Henry needed him, gave the old wolf someone to look after and take care of. He would have preferred to meet him under different circumstances though. “You know, if you ever need me to take some time from the bar to be here with you, I will.” Yes, his bar was important to him, but the Omega was even more important. The moods the younger one got into couldn’t help but concern Samson and he wouldn’t leave him to deal with it on his own.

Intimacy was difficult for Henry. Sex was easy, but the affection, the part that he got from Samson-- it was different and almost difficult for him to full comprehend. Samson was perhaps the only person who he freely allowed himself to be open with. The hand across his back was comforting and the Omega allowed his eyes to fall closed in appreciation of the motion. When the man spoke, the wolf was shaking his head in slight protest. “You know... I am fine.” Perhaps he wasn’t fully and never truly would be okay, but he was okay enough to be alone while the other worked.

Lucius looked over the wolf as he walked in, and wondered if he was the right person to help him, but he had a few things he could try. He smiled and tapped his fingers against the wooden counter top before sliding around it and walking over to the Omega. “Well, I do have some special oils you can give a try.” he said with a shrug, as he went to his oil section. He didn’t like to undercut his fellow witches, if the wolf wanted a proper spell, he’d have to go to somewhere like Witches Brew, but enchanted oils, he could help with. “Light sleep or, are you planning to withstand a hurricane?” he teased.

Special oils. Henry wasn’t sure he put much stock into the craft, but he supposed it must work for some or it wouldn’t be something that was still practiced.

The wolf looked to the man, an obvious furrow of confusion could be seen on forehead. “Why would I wish to withstand a hurricane?” The question was asked point blank, eyes roving over the other in a curious fashion. It was a curious thought though he doubted an oil or an herb could actually cause him to sleep through someone like a hurricane.

“Yeah?” For a moment or so, there was concern in his eyes as he mutually looked over the younger wolf’s face. Then he locked eyes with him. It was hard for Samson not to be protective over him, knowing just what he came from and what he still suffered from. “What did you paint?”, he asked quieter. “More pictures of me?” He cracked a small smile, just lighthearted teasing. At first it was almost alarming how often Henry drew or painted pictures of him, but he learned to get used to the fact that he was one of the few things that calmed the younger wolf. He was, after all, the one who got him out of that abusive pack. He returned to laying on his back, an arm casually slipping under Henry to pull him in and have him resting on his chest. Perhaps the other wolf calmed him in return. “You say you had things swirling and needed to get things out. Something bothering you?”

“The moon... the trees--”

The wolf hummed to himself softly. It was more abstract than just that, he knew his artwork came out as distorted or muddled when he was in a mood like this. But that had been his intention as he painted. His art was the only thing that the Omega had to grasp onto.

It was easy for Henry to move into position as the wolf moved him, his body shifting so that he could lay onto the beta’s chest and just listen to his heart beat. The sound allowed the wolf to be more level, his mind ceasing for just a moment. “Normal things-- the usual...”

  Wesley had been going over some files and paper, he did not expect the sudden gust of wind blew and sent some of his papers flying causing him to run after them. It took Wesley awhile to find those papers and when he got all of them he stopped and looked through them, making sure that he had everything but then, he heard a voice. 

“Am really sorry,” he replied moving out of the way. “Did not mean to block your view.”

Eyes roved over the other, curious as to why he had chased after the papers. They seemed important. He supposed he could understand if it had been some of his sketches blowing away. It made Henry wanted to draw the papers flying in the wind, watch as the lines formed across the paper.

“Thank you.” He said, though he still kept his eyes on the other man. His pencil was then laid down on the grass next to him. “You should get paperclips.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake!” Thomas yelled out as he pulled his constantly ringing phone out of his pocket. “What? What!?” He yelled as he pressed the phone to his ear. “Seriously Marshall? You need to calm your shit down– you’re having a bad trip, and it’s not my fault. I told you to stop buying shit from that Nosferatu-fucker but, no, you never listen to me; no one ever listens to me.” Somehow through his own obnoxious yelling, and the panicked rambling he was listening too, Thomas managed to hear someone speak up softly behind him. Turning around with a mild look of annoyance on his face, he stared hard at the man seated on the bench for a moment before dropping his phone against his chest. 

“Heh– I’m blocking your view,” he replied back with a sarcastic smirk and laugh. “Here’s an idea. Move.”

The man was loud and overall unpleasant.

Henry had long since decided he wasn’t fond of people who were either of those things. He had dealt with plenty like that and they always seemed to end up spreading their own misery around. Henry watched him before he hummed and looked back down at the pages of his sketchbook. “I was here first.” He pointed out, his voice was soft and barely above a whisper.

Isak was similar in the aspect that most things he did, he did them for a purpose. Today was no exception for the vampire.

However, he does get lost in a lot of his thoughts. They spiral around as he manages all these tasks he needs to accomplish. He hasn’t managed to find a secretary he could trust with the minor details of his life so, instead, he is a one-man team backed up power, authority, and unquestionable shady means. It’s why he doesn’t even notice the other until he hears his voice.

Isak side-steps from his way, circling around to see what the other was doing. His eyes scan over the paper with a low appreciative hum. “That’s some nice work.” He says slowly, “It’d be a shame to interrupt that.”

Henry was only worried about his point of view getting messed up in what he was drawing. It was probably a worry most people didn’t understand-- but art was perhaps the only way the Omega truly had a moment to express himself.

With his legs tucked beneath him, the wolf looked up at the other as he spoke, eyes moving over his face in curiosity. Not many truly appreciated his art or saw it for what it was. He doubted this man was one of the few that did.

“--I like the light here.” He explained to the other.