what do you call a monster?

Catching the other cop in the corner of her eyes, Reyna sent them a provoking smile. Her lips parted, ready to utilize them to further tease August, but he sent them off before she could. “They’re just looking for a friend. And I’m sure the experience that comes with your old age can help them, no?” Reyna scrunched up her face as she looked up at August, a genuine smile breaking through her pout as her nose crinkled. She was grateful he could keep up with her many thoughts being thrown his way. “Yeah, you know – those demons you see when you get sleep paralysis. What does yours look like?” Annoyance would’ve been a common emotion the lamia would be feeling at this point with the amount of people that kept bumping into her, but fortunately, their conversations sufficed to keep her distracted. “I am also amazed we are friends. Being friends with a cop, that’s very off-brand for me. And how brooding you can be at times…” Reyna didn’t finish her sentence, rather letting the grimace on her face act as that unspoken sentence instead. “I like almost all of the council people. I’m friends with Yas.” Reyna hummed to herself, giving her time to decide whether she should bring up the subject or not. But her curiosity overpowered sense. “Well, do you miss it then? Being a councilman or the chief? Having all that information and making those big decisions?” The girl rolled her eyes at him, mocking him with a fake laugh and a soft tug of his arm. “If I wanted to drink alone, I would’ve just gone to the bar. Lucky for you, you hold more uses to me than just a guide, which you are doing poorly by the way. I am pretty much leading us.” Stepping into the booth, she released her grip from his arm to scan the handwritten menu, multitasking as she listened to him. Finalizing what she wanted, she looked back at him with the same face as before, feigning cluelessness. “What face? I have no idea what you’re talking about.” A prideful smile saturated her features as she proudly shrugged. “That’s why you keep me around, no? Your life would be so boring without me and my surprises. What do you want to drink?” 

“I would spare them whatever sass you would send their way, they are not quite skilled enough in handling your tongue,” he remarks with a sideways glance at her as the cop walks away. He did not miss the look on her face, and laughs at the smile on her lips. “Sometimes I am not even equipped to handle it.” August debates pointing out she’s older than him by several decades, his brows arched as if to suggest it anyway, but he ends up shaking his head instead, amused. “Uh, no, I do not experience sleep paralysis much and if I did, I cannot say I recall what they look like. Perhaps like a goblin, I feel that would be unsettling,” he thinks aloud. Another second of musing on possibilities, and then he’s looking at her again, trading places with her to take the brunt of the jostling. “How long have you had this issue?” August makes a face at the idea of him brooding. He senses their conversation can, quite easily, take a turn for the worse and he tries to keep the levity going. “I do not... brood. Much. You make our friendship sound like such a hardship, please tell me what you really feel.” The question prompts silence from him. He makes a noise to show his thoughtfulness, still thinking on the question when they step inside the booth and looking over the handwritten menu. “Truthfully? No, being a councilman was more headache than it was worth to me, and being chief was too politically involved for my taste. I do wish I knew more, but... I am content with where I am.” He should be insulted, but August doesn’t take many of Reyna’s jabs to heart and rolls his eyes fondly. He points at her face, and waits for after the person acting as a barman takes both of their orders before saying, “You know exactly what I mean. I suppose you are right, though, for all your mischief you are not...” August tilts his head, thinking of how to word this in English. “Well, I do not think you will stab me in the back and it is rare to think that of someone.”

Felix gulps down his beer, not bothering to count how many he had so far. “Yet. And you and I both know I’m not into confessions.” He chuckles, crushing the can in his hand. He makes a shot with it at the trash can. It misses by a great margin. He pulls out a new can from the plastic bag and offers it to Gus, opening another one for himself. “Guess they didn’t learn any lesson then.” He shrugs, raising his can. “And I like drinking outside, and watching people fall down on the ice is fun.” He doesn’t care what people say about indecency, but he does enjoy outdoor drinking. Fresh air is better than the stench of spilled drinks and piss. Bonus point, he doesn’t get cold even if it’s the winter, but beers do. “Oh, wait, are you working? That sucks, man” 

“The night is young, and I have no doubts you can get up to mischief without much effort depending on the drink number you are on.” August waves off the offer for a drink with reluctance. With how long this shift has been, he wouldn’t mind having one, but there’s enough eyes on them as is. He shifts to pick up the trash, tossing it away with a pointed look. “Clean up after yourself, you are not a slob. I thought your aim was better with more drinks,” he says with a laugh, returning to stand next to him. “Not much a skater, are you? Did think you would be out there, too.” As they speak, a teen skids across the ice and lands on their bottom with a thump. They are scooped up, but he still laughs a little. “I cannot say I would skate much better than them, I do not think I have been. But, yes, my shift does not end until after nine, I am eager to go home.”

Time: 11:42 AM Date: January 29, 2021 Location: Lethe Police Department Status: closed with @august-ulrich

Delia walked through the department, stopping by her coworker’s desk and putting a file in front of him. “We’re signed off to start. You ready to go?” She was restless, partly from the way the year had started off (everyone seemed to be a little restless and on edge still) and simply because it had been too long since she had worked a proper case. “We got an arsonist to catch, no time to lose, right?”

The file clatters on the table, breaking his concentration from the other files in front of him. His eyes flicker up to his new partner’s face, and August fights back a sigh. “I have been ready for several days, I thought they would keep me on desk duty for weeks.” August doesn’t mention, really, that he probably should be for a few more weeks to come, but so long as he doesn’t go shoulder slamming a door, he figures he’ll be fine. He stands up, stretching carefully; he dropped the sling several days ago, but he is still wary of causing his shoulder anymore distress. “After you, you can drive. I think we ought to start with the autoshop, see if there is anything else and go chronologically from there,” he suggests, raising a brow. He hasn’t been the chief in several decades, and so he doesn’t suggest anything more as they make their way out of the building.

Date: January 26th 2021 Time: 9:30 am Location: August’s house

@august-ulrich​

It’s not as if he didn’t call in advance. He did – a couple of days ago, in fact, when his feet were on solid ground and the ship he’d tended to for so long was but a speck on the horizon. He’s not sure he’ll ever truly be able to put into words what made him loose his ties to the Richmond, but in his heart of hearts, he knows it was the right thing, letting go. The thing he was bound to by duty, maybe. But he won’t search so much into it. No, really, if he is to return to Lethe, the most pressing matter is where he’ll live. August had accused him of loitering when he’d tried to hunker down by the river on his first venture into town, so it’s August he calls now, seeking shelter. August whose door Liam knocks upon, his scant belongings in his arms or tucked into the bag slung onto his back. Some of which he sets down in order to greet his friend properly, but he doesn’t get the chance, instead taken aback by his appearance. “Well then. Police work taking its toll?” His brow furrows as he observes the sling the other man sports. “You alright?” And then, with a sigh, he hefts his belongings up again. “Besides that, ah, thank you for letting me stay here. I shouldn’t be long. Sure I’ll find a place that doesn’t infringe upon you.” Once he’s crossed the threshold, once bags and boxes are sat down, Liam turns to his host with a question in his eyes. One he’s, frankly, not so keen on asking. “Now… what exactly have I missed?”

Liam isn’t a surprise, and he half wishes his friend had been several days later when August can toss this ridiculous sling into the trash where it belongs and not explain a lick of how he got it. It’s too late for it now. “I was not actually on duty when this happened.” August shrugs, winces, and then gestures him inside with a wary glance over his shoulder. He hasn’t seen Daniel much, a worry itself, but he’s seen snippets of Mary and he prefers to avoid anymore sightings of them. The door closes behind him, and August leads him further inside. “You can have your room still. Delilah left a while ago, so we should not have any other surprise house guests unless something particularly unusual happens in the next few weeks,” he states with a nod, figuring Liam wants a moment to drop his stuff off somewhere, but they are set aside near the door. Ah, no time for it, it’s not like Liam came with much more than a bag and whatever his arms can hold. “Nonsense, you can stay as long as you want, what use do I have for those extra rooms? I did not open the door on yours for several months.” August directs them to the couch, plopping down onto the cushions and setting his feet on the wooden coffee table with a pained grunt. “You sure you want to know? You leave for a little, and you miss out on all the fun. Remind me, did I tell you that Daniel’s ex-wife lived in town?” he asks, brows furrowing. He doesn’t know where to start with this story, truthfully, even if Liam no doubt knows pieces of it. “I do not recall off the top of my head, but if I did not: her name is Aurélie, and she is... a friend of sorts, I suppose. She is not at all what Daniel tried to make her seem, but I did not realize how... intense he was about wanting to be rid of her.” Which is mostly why he tried to avoid mentioning her, but August can see how that failed.

“You don’t have any other cop friends to keep you company?” Reyna asked, eyes drifting around them to pinpoint anyone in a matching uniform to target as supporting points for her question. The girl snickered, bringing her sights back to him. “Wow, someone here doesn’t like you? How shocking.” She extended the length of each syllable to further stain her words with sarcasm. “But if it’s something as trivial as that statement to get him to dislike you, then he must have a stick up his ass. Also, he looks a lot like my sleep demon. No good vibes there,” the lamia mused, an expression of discomfort reflecting her feelings towards the councilman’s physical appearance. Reyna sent him a look of skepticism, her eyes squinting at him as she doesn’t fully believe his words. Regardless, she didn’t push further on the matter, not that she was too concerned about it other than it affecting her attire. “Uh huh, sure. You could have said the purpose of the wristbands are for a mating social and I would’ve believed that more.” With the new sense of direction of where the alcohol is, Reyna immediately linked her arm through his, an attempt to pull him towards where he indicated the bar was. “Great, let’s go then. I won’t tell anyone you’re drinking on the job. And, the mess of the last ones is why I decided to come. I’m curious as to what surprise and thrill will happen at this one. Will it outdo the last? Only a few more hours left to see. I’m shaking in anticipation.” Reminded at who she was telling this two, Reyna looked over with innocent eyes. “Not that I had anything to do with the last few occurrences. I was literally waiting for the fireworks with Gwen at the parade, minding our own business and playing ‘Fuck Marry Kill’.” 

As if summoned by her words, a rookie cop comes up to them with their eyes on Reyna, a touch of worry on their face until August rolls his eyes and waves them off. “They want to keep me company, yes, but it is more because some of them are new. I am no trainer for the likes of them,” he declares with a huff of annoyance. “I do not like him. Clearly I am not alone in that regard, but do you like any of the council people? I am amazed you and I became friends-- hang on, sleep demon? What?” He sidesteps around someone who runs between them, rolling his eyes as he steps closer to her, nudging them off to the side more as they walk. The festival is rowdy as people come out of their shells, but at least it means nobody notices him slacking off on the job. August offers her an unsure shrug. “I know the same about wristbands that you do. The council does not share things like that with me, perhaps they only do with the chief.” He is no longer chief, nor councilman, and it’s a headache to figure out what the lot of them are planning to do. Her arm links with his, and he only laughs as she drags him off towards the alcohol. “Oh, am I invited to drink with you? I assumed I was your guide to the alcohol, and then deposited back into that mess,” he says, chin indicating the mass moving from the market to the rink as the next round of ice-skaters are let on the ice. Then the rest of her words register, and the faux innocent blink follows, and August shoots her bemused , exasperated look. “No, I did not think you were, but now I assume you were doing a little more than playing Fuck Marry Kill. Why do you keep trying your face with me? I almost always see through it, I know your face very well.” Or he feels like he does, the thought giving him some pause as they approach a little area set off to the side and roped off. Both are required to show ID before the rope parts way and lets them into a shaded booth and a makeshift bar. “I assume I know enough about your face, you do have a habit of surprising me,” he corrects.

“Really? Huh…” Naomi trails off, weirded out by the fact that she’s a little upset she doesn’t know more about her own grandfather’s life. Why should she be upset by it? They only just met, and it’s not like she had a grandfather she cared to know about before she showed up. The rest of her family could fall into a ditch for all she cared, they sucked enough life out of her. But August? He didn’t have the time put in to do any life sucking. Funny, considering he’s a lamia. “Okay. But for the record, I do want to hear about it. Boring or not, it’s my history, and I want to know. And I want to know French and Portuguese, will you teach me?” She pauses. “Maybe just French first, then we can work up to Portuguese.” Again, she pauses. “Wait, which is easier? I’ll do that first.” Well, at least he took her mind off the fire for a minute, even if it was short lived. “Yeah, I usually skip everything else and go straight to anger. Only anger, always anger,” Naomi sighs, wanting to punch a wall, but that would likely hurt her more than it would the wall. 

It’s hard not to show the pain in her features when her fucking left side is on fire. Damn arsonist…if the police ever find him, she’ll have to get a lick in. Maybe August would let her in, turn off the cameras, and she could sucker punch him. Three times would be nice; once for her ribs, another for her shop, and the last for her family. The last being the hardest hit, of course. August’s words soften the witch’s features, and she looks over at him with a sad smile. “That, would be really fucking shitty. But hey, I’m okay. I didn’t burn with the shop, he didn’t get me. I’m a badass, you should know. I’m your granddaughter, right?” God, she doesn’t even know him and she’s already assuming he’s a badass. Well, if she is- which she is; then August, by proxy, is also a badass. “This certainly is one way to get to know your grandkids, isn’t it? Think I’m even starting to see gray hairs, gramps,” Naomi teases, pretending to pull one out of his head. It’s the most she can do to try and make light of the situation, and she tends to use humor as a way to deflect. As he scribbles, Naomi opens her second cup of jello. Yes, she made them bring her two. “Ugh, I figured…was hoping you could calm them down. I’m exhausted, but I’ll tell them what I know.” Not that she’ll be sunshine and rainbows when they do it either, because she most certainly won’t. But she can at least tell them what she saw. Maybe it’ll help, even if it’s a little. At the mention of family, she groans again. “Fuck, fuck, I know. I’ll text the pseudo family, they’ll want to know and be up and arms if I don’t say shit. But Atticus?” Naomi sighs, shaking her head. “I don’t need to bug him with this. He’s…I don’t think he’s doing well anyway. I’ll call him tomorrow. Scout’s honor.” 

“Yes, well, I was born in Brazil back when it was still Portugal and then we were banished to the colonies,” he explains a little more, thoughtful, trying to pin the pieces of his life together enough to put it into words. His brow furrows, and only continues at her prodding, at the way she relaxes at the distraction. “My family and I, that is, ended up in the colonies and I spent a great deal of time with them before we parted ways, and most of them did not bother speaking anything other than Portuguese for a long while.” He fumbles for a segue between this part and the next, and sighs when he starts again. “When I left them, I met Odette Lockhart and Katherine Irving, the former of which preferred French, and then Lethe existed.” And then the Bisset family afterwards, but he swallows back that kernel for later. Risky enough bringing up family, he doesn’t want to talk about Mary and all the things to come after. He laughs, surprised by the question. “I think Portuguese is easier, and I cannot say I know French enough to teach someone else, but I am biased. I would gladly teach you, though, you deserve to know something of your heritage.” Strange to say, and stranger to hear coming from his lips, he’s never much thought about things like heritage. The talk of anger brings a sympathetic smile to his lips, and he wonders what bits of that are from him, from the part of him and his kind that seem to have an underlying anger. He doesn’t prod it, unwilling to broach that subject. Not yet.

The anger on Naomi’s face worries and pains him in equal measure, and August reaches out to grasp her hand. “We will find whoever did this, and he will pay for it dearly,” he promises her, feeling the weight of responsibility settling on his shoulders. Strange how he welcomes it, but then this is what drew him to the job in the first place: protecting people, helping people. And now he is capable of doing it for someone who is family. August laughs, giving her hand a final squeeze before he pulls away. His hand drifts to his hair as she tugs on it, and he snorts. “If I am a badass, I do not think I am supposed to have the grey hair you are both giving me,” he points out, still grinning, only sobering up at the mention of family. “I do not think your family knows or likes me enough to stay calm in the current situation. I know I would not be, and I know most people are not.” It isn’t the first time he’s had to stand in front of someone and deliver bad news, nor will it be the last time, but it’s never been his favorite part of the job. He tilts his head, thinking, and it seems risky to prod about something she is trying to avoid, but... Well, they are related, and every bit of her nosiness is something she inherited from him. “You and your father are not close,” he states. “Has it always been this way?”

date: december 31, 2020 time: 6:32 pm location: irving plaza for: @august-ulrich​

Had it not been for the new clothes she had ordered online to wear out, Reyna wouldn’t have had enough reasons to leave her house and partake in the festivities. It had been a while since she left her house to be surrounded by people, but after constructing an outfit, she’d figured it would be a waste for it to not be seen. As soon as she entered the plaza, the lamia immediately looked for familiar faces, a specific one in mind to complain to. “Remind me again why I’m here,” Reyna greeted the police officer as soon as she spotted him. Lifting her left arm up, she pointed at the white wristband tightly hugging her wrist. “And what is this? This is ruining a perfectly good outfit. I’m just glad it’s white because if we got a different ass color, I would’ve turned right back around.” With the complains finalized and out of the way, Reyna finally processed her surroundings and settled her eyes back onto August. “So which one of these booths are selling alcohol?”

His departure from Felix is more abrupt than he enjoys, but duty calls, as least long enough to lose Felix in the crowd and settle back into the usual. He almost misplaces who the complaint belongs to, his head filled with the chatter of the last couple hours, but when he turns, its a familiar face. “You decided to not leave me on my lonesome among this pack of wolves,” he tells her, pausing as he considers his words. “It occurs to me how useless that expression is, and rude too, no wonder the councilman dislikes me when I see him in passing.” August glances at his own wrist band with a sigh, disliking the white strip against the black of his uniform; it matches alright, but it makes his wrist itch and the cuffs don’t fit over them as properly as he would prefer. “Safety reasons, I am told. If there is an issue, we do not want to waste resources saving someone who will be alright on their own nor do they want people with certain limitations among the mess if they cannot control themselves,” he explains with a shrug, as if repeating second-hand what he had been told which was true. August inclines his head, glancing around the booths around them. “I am surprised you are here. Have you not seen the mess of the last ones? And, yes, this is Lethe, they have a bar no doubts. This way, I believe, beyond the ice-skaters.”

Date: 31 December 2020 Time: 03:31 PM Location: Irving Plaza

Felix watches skaters in the rink, slowly getting drunk. His life has not changed one bit– he goes to work, hits whatever the bar he picks for the night, passes out drunk or high or both sometimes. Rinse and repeat. The only change is that he doesn’t spend his Saturdays visiting Clark, tinkering with whatever the homework he gets. That hit him harder than he expected. He downs his third bottle of beer, wondering if he should go find something to get high on. He grimaces as a shadow cast over his face. “…’sup, Gus,” he greets the familiar face. Gus is something of a family friend ( To this day, he is not entirely sure his mother slept with Gus, but he doesn’t want to know the answer. ), kind of like a big brother or uncle to him. “Alright, what did I do now?” he asks with a sigh of resignation.

@august-ulrich​

His shift starts before the festival even begins, and shows no sign of relenting as people stream inside, one person after another. It’s a relief to switch from watching the entrance to walking around in what feels like more of a show of force than a genuine patrol. “Felix,” he greets, stepping into the space beside him, leaning his elbows on the railing and sighing as he cracks his neck. “I did not say anything you did anything yet, but if you have a guilty conscience, you are welcome to confess and save me the trouble.” August shifts back, to at least look like he’s working a little bit, even if this is a well-deserved break for someone who has been moving nonstop since early this morning. Lamia need little to no sleep, but damn does it sound pleasant today. He sighs, and says without prompting. “I am surprised anyone showed up to this today, it does not seem like we’ve had luck with events in the past. What brings you here? I hope not just for the drinks, they have better ones at your usual haunts.”

“Does your voice always do that when you’re anxious?” Naomi inquires after a bite of jello, the crease in her brow deepening as she looks over her grandfather. “Your accent, I mean. It’s not as thick as it is now, and where are you from, anyway? Have we even talked about that yet? No, don’t think so. Another time though,” she waves it off. “ Anyway, I’m fine, August. Mostly just ticked the fuck off.” Is she fine? Not really, but they don’t need to go into the details of that right now. Emotions and feelings could wait. With an arsonist still on the loose and her shop finely crisped, the first thing on her mind is her family’s safety. Tilda works at the Lethean Times, how long before they’re targeted? And who knows, maybe…maybe targeting Naomi was the whole point, to hit people where it hurts most. She is rather well known in town with many connections. Perhaps it’s a bit conceited to think that maybe this arsonist is going after people he knows the town will talk about. 

“Grandfather it is,” Naomi says, keeping the spoon for her jello between her teeth as she leans over to pull a nearby chair closer to her bed. The bottom of it scrapes against the hospital tiling, making them both wince. Though Naomi’s wincing for multiple reasons,including the fracture in her ribs. Maybe she shouldn’t be moving shit around this close to the accident…the look on August’s face says it for them. She pats on the chair once it’s close enough, urging him to sit down beside her. “Yeah,” Naomi confirms, about to go into more detail when her grandfather continues to spew out question after question. Well…is this what it’s like to have a worried parent? Sure, August isn’t really her parent parent, but right now he’s acting like it. At least in an awkward, ‘I just met you, but I care’ sort of way. It makes her smile and laugh a little, but she’s quick to grab her side. Fuck, laughing hurts her ribs. “Ow! God, don’t be funny when my ribs hurt. Would you sit down, man? You darting about the room playing a game of twenty questions is giving me a headache.” Again she pats the chair beside her, only this time a little harder. “Yes, Adam was there. He was here, I think he got checked out and is getting us food. I didn’t get a good enough look at the guy’s face, but I think he was male. Taller, wore dark clothing and a hoodie. Had some sort of mask or bandanna covering his face, too, I remember because I tried to yank it down. He turned away before I could see his face though, and Adam pulled me out.” Good thing too, because she would have been stubborn enough to accidentally get herself killed. God what the hell had she been thinking? Especially now that she has a kid and a partner to look after? Naomi sighs, scraping the last bit of jello into her mouth. “They just called Matilda, she’s on her way. I don’t want anyone else in here fussing, so I haven’t uh…told them yet. But I’m sure it’ll make the front page tomorrow morning,” Naomi snorts. Eventually everyone else would know. Come tomorrow, it’ll probably will be in the paper. 

“Sometimes. I pause to think about what I am saying more often than people assume, I may have been here for years but I have spent more time around Portuguese and French than English,“ he admits, worry momentarily derailed by the question. And the one after it, and August’s brows furrow. No, they haven’t talked about his life, or the place he grew up. The place that is, technically, her history, too, and he thinks that’s why. He rubs a hand over his face. “No, we have not had the time. It’s a boring story, and not many people in it are worth discussing, there is no rush to hear it.” He dismisses the idea, it doesn’t seem important in light of everything else. The chances of them meeting their family... Well, August grimaces. Francisca is in town, but he will cross that bridge when he comes to it. The look he shoots her is a tad disbelieving, but then he shakes his head. “I prefer ticked off over the rest sometimes. I am sure you are the same,” he comments, preferring to be angry when things are scary than anything else.

Grandfather it is. Strange still how the words hit him, mostly because he woke up one day not even knowing he’d been a father and now he was at an entirely different milestone. It was like jumping into a pool rather than stepping in, and August half-smiled, slightly apologetically but mostly not. “I am sitting, I am sitting.” His hands are up, lips twitching, masking his worry at the wince on her face as he settles into the chair at her side. The last thing he wants is aggravating a wound, and he curses lamia for having no way to heal others. Themselves in bits and pieces, sure, but not others. Then he sighs. “I am just worried, this is not how I wanted to see you again. I would hate to get a call finding out you were gone entirely, you or Adam, and I have only barely met you.” He cares about his family, old and new, no matter how it appears to others. His eyes narrow, and he fishes out a notepad from his pocket, scribbling out some of the details. It isn’t... very useful, but August likes having a vague idea. “Someone will come along to question you officially, I am not here in that capacity. They will be pushy, I am imagining they are getting desperate for answers,” he warns her, tucking it away, because he is here as her grandfather. A grandfather who just so happens to have strings he can pull to figure things out. “Naomi, I do not know if your family will like being kept in the dark from this. Do you want me to get a hold of anyone?” He hasn’t yet met her father, and he isn’t keen on this introduction, but he’ll do it for her.

At August’s question, Reyna faced the realization of what her current state might have looked like. Eyes widened, breaking her facade for a second before relaxing back to her prior demeanor. “It’s a lot more comfortable than it seems, and some people even say it’s better for the back.” The lamia pulled her blanket tighter around herself, almost as if it was a protective layer. “Even if you weren’t content, I wouldn’t have given you the option to opt out of joining me.” Once August got situated on the floor close to where she was before, a satisfied smile grew onto her face. Reyna disappeared from the room for a few seconds only to return with her cat in her arm. “Have you met Bruna before?” she pulled away from the topic of Frankie momentarily as she gently placed the black cat down on top of August. The girl laid down, a few wiggles here and there before she could classify herself as being comfortable. The sight was similar to a pair laying outside at night, looking up at the stars. Instead, they were simply starting a blank eggshell wall. She hummed silently, thinking about what intentions his sister could have for being in town. “So you think she’s here for something else? And she’s just using checking on you as a disguise for the reason? Hm, we both know it’ll take more than a few explosions to get you to turn to bits.” She shielded herself tighter with the blanket into a burrito, as if hiding from the question. “It’s been a long ass time. I’ll be fine.” Or so she thinks. Had he asked a month ago, she knew she would’ve been fine. But now, she wasn’t too sure. “Who knows? Maybe she has changed. Maybe she grew tired of the life she was living and changed her priorities.” Reyna couldn’t finish her sentence without breaking into light laughs, unable to bear the belief of that occurrence. “Yeah, no way. Something’s fishy.” 

Any other person, and he might have ignored the commentary, but it was Reyna and talking to her about even gibberish things was like a balm. “Oh, yes, is that what people are saying? The floor is good on the back?” he questioned with an amused albeit short laugh. “Were you just going to yank me onto the floor if I hadn’t volunteered? Little rude, I brought you booze and someone to chat with tonight, and you reward me with chronic back pain.” Despite his commentary, August didn’t move from his spot, adjusting the blanket to cover his side and resting a hand on the cats purring back as it walked around on his chest, shaking his head at the question. Bruna and he weren’t acquainted, not until right this moment, and he pet them absently. “As you say, I am not the type to get myself blown up, I am more likely to be beat up these days. Just seems unusual, but I do not know her very well, or not so well as I thought I did,” he corrected himself, shaking his head, keeping his eyes on the ceiling above them. His sister and his family were not the same people he thought they were growing up, and time had given him plenty of chances to look back on the fearful glances people shot their way. He snorted before she even finished. “I do not know if she can grow tired of it, I feel as though it would have happened a long time ago? I cannot imagine what she is here for otherwise though, you are the only other person she knows in town -- that I know about at least.” Perhaps she misses her, but August kept silent. He didn’t know what happened between the two, nor how it ended, and he liked Reyna, he didn’t want to prod into any lingering wounds, especially the ones that family caused. The silence went on for several moments, and then he sighed. There was a question he could ask, one that was hopefully less.. probing than any about his sister. “Why are you on the floor, Reyna? Did something happen?” 

August was not who she expected to see on the other side of the door. And her surprise at seeing him was reflected on her features – eyebrows raised a notch and lips parted. Reyna adjusted her blanket, which was draped around her entire frame. Her surprise dismissed as quick as it came, relief saturating her now that she had company over to cure her loneliness. “Look what the cat dragged in. I’ll take that,” she chose an option, grabbing the bottle of booze from his fingers before stepping aside. “Come on in. Make yourself at home. I have a few more throw blankets if you want to join this dreadful party.” She was in the middle of laying in the middle of her living room before he came, staring at the fan on her ceiling in hopes that it’ll take away her inner feelings. August was a more productive alternative to that, so the sudden distraction was accepted. “You have when I take my first sip to until when the bottle is emptied.” At his unexpected news, she froze in her spot for a brief second. She shook her head, shaking away any signs of distress or bothersome of the announcement even though she felt them. “Oh, Frankie’s here? For what reason? This doesn’t seem like the place for her. How’s that been treating you?” 

His eyes flickered to her blanket with a touch of confusion, expressed by the momentary frown before she was gesturing him inside. “Just lounging on the ground for the fun of it?” he asked with a sigh, glancing around the room for lack of anything else to do. “Do not let me interrupt you, it seems like one of those days and I will be content to join you.” August settled the booze on the ground next to the couch, pulling off a throw blanket and flopping onto the floor, staring up at her ceiling. He didn’t know the particulars of her relationship with his sister, and he thought it important to start there. Now that he was here, August was a little lost for words on explaining the rest. Things like children, and Mary Bisset, and all the other things weighing on him were a touch too... out there. Out of place, too, for Reyna’s living room. His fingers tapped on the throw blanket which was spread across his chest, more weight than warmth. “She was checking in on me after the parade, or so she says. It seems unbelievable, I did not think she could care about things so it was perhaps not because she feared I blew myself to smithereens,” he commented, thoughtful, still tapping away. “It has been quiet. You know her as I do, quiet is not a good thing. Will you be alright, you think? I do not know when you last saw each other.” August head tilted back, looking her way. Of the people in Lethe, Reyna was perhaps one he was closest with, someone who did not require things like facades and careful thinking, but he did wonder if he would ever learn to read her face.

Name: August Hugo Ulrich Nickname: Gus Age: 248 Birthday: March 22, 1772 Zodiac: Aries Gender: cismale Language(s): Portuguese, German, English, Spanish. Orientation: Pansexual Species: Lamia Nationality: Brazilian Ethnicity: Brazilian Religion: Atheist Health Disabilities: N/A. Distinguishing Marks: Several down his back as a result from flogging before he left Brazil with his family. One on his neck from a knife fight with his brother. Drugs: no Alcohol: yes. Smoke: yes. Traits:        Gallant, Assertive, Secretive, Passionate, Loyal       Secretive, Misguided, Haughty, Fatalistic, Aimless

physical.

Height: 6′2 Build: Athletic slim Eye colour: hazel green Hair color: dark brown Posture: loose, ready to move at a moment’s notice Right / Left Handed: right Typical gestures: expressive eyebrows, lot of movement when talking Typical body language: resting bitch face Typical tone: impatient & wary, monotone Hobbies: puzzles, historical fiction novels, western movies and novels, capoeira

favourites.

Color(s): cerulean, grey, orange Song(s): Way Down We Go by KALEO Book(s): Captain of the Sands by Jorge Amado Quote(s): “Maybe that’s what love is, I thought: it’s being pissed off.” — Margaret Atwood Season: Winter Location(s): hammock in his backyard, a long stretch of road on his motorcycle Flora: sunflowers Fauna: any type of bird

in depth.

Education: Various half attempted degrees, but nothing suited him. Occupation: Police Officer @ Lethe PD. Long retired lamia founder. Passions/Hobbies: puzzles, historical fiction & western novels/movies, capoeira, workaolic. Hogwart’s House: Ravenclaw MBTI: ENTP Enneatype: Type 6, the Loyalist Alignment: Lawful Good Temperament: Choleric-Melancholic

relations.