Mitchie Barrios

Then, like she'll take no arguing, she starts packing her things in. The question brings another smile to her features.

"A little while," Aelita says - with a tone that begets the truth is deeper. "Just most of my life." It's not judgy, or mean, or snide; just matter-of-fact. Aelita bundles her kit.

Dark eyes glance over the other, for all she knows this woman is defenseless, and sure she risks some level of exposure. Maybe though if it is something dangerous she can blame the extra strength as an act of adrenaline. She licks her lips, body still as she keeps listening. Letting her senses do the work. The left flank, whatever it is, it is coming from the left. It's subtle the way she shifts her weight. The way she turns though, the way she moves to block is clear that something is happening.

"Pack up faster." She mutters enough for the skater to hear. There is another snap, she barely suppresses a growl, a natural protectiveness washing over her. Sure they were strangers, but if whatever this was meant harm, Mitchie wouldn't stand idly by. She wouldn't run. Then it breaks the trees, it looks like a person, but not. This time she does growl lowly. The thing looks like that…uncanny valley thing everyone is always talking about and despite the dread that fills her she takes a step forward.

"Stay back, alright?" It makes a noise, something that sounds like a warped version of her voice like it's practicing her timber.

She does not seem to mind his explanation, and goes into her own. He wonders, briefly, what sort of pack she belongs to. "Is - ah, what packs are there in the city? I have not had a chance to.. learn. Yet." He is trying, though. It seems most people he meets these days smell of florals, other than the man at the gym - he was.. nice enough.

The question makes his face twist a bit, unsure how to answer it. No, he was not attacked, but he was not born like this either. The memory comes quick and clear without him bidding for it, and he sighs. "I.. ah.. my pack was- It was.. not natural. But not.. attack, either."

At the question about packs she looks thoughtful for a moment. "There are four packs here, I won't pretend that I know everything about each one, I'm trying to learn though. I'm trying to fully embrace what I am now. But away from that. There is the pack I'm a part of. Eventide, we are a pack built from..other-ed wolves. Wolves that aren't always sure where they stand or the logistics of this world. A mix of turned and born wolves that aren't sure if they want a pack fully or where they stand. Then there is Harford, from what I heard they are an off branching of an older pack, Warwick, which is very, like old school and focused on born wolves being the only true wolves, but Harford accepts everyone and focuses more on their humanity. Then there is…I think Cerberous?" She blushes slightly and shrugs.

"I'm not a hundred percent sure on them. Shit, I actually think I got something jumbled.Sorry, I'm not super great at this." She apologizes, then listens about his original pack, of his turning. Though she would take not being turned at all, the thought of something less violent to start with sounds like a way better introduction to this confusing world. But it still doesn't sound great, being turned to be a guard, a soldier. Not having a choice in the matter even if it wasn't as painful…at least she hopes it wasn't. Hopes it wasn't terrifying.

"I know ice," she chirps, smiling sidelong at the woman. "It's pretty solid out there - not too deep of a pond, and it's been cold."

Strong calves kick her feet up to place the guards on her skates. No longer zipping along with exertion, her body becomes more aware of the cold, and she gives a vigorous shiver. "Out for a jog?"

Standing still the cold does settle into her more, though natural warmth does stave it off a bit. Her head gives a quick nod, and the toe of her shoe scuffs the frosty ground. "Yeah. Helps me clear my head. The challenge with the current weather makes it a little more fun too, I think. I got yelled at for risking running the college track."

"I don't mind being... bothered." Talking to other people is not something he hates, he just finds it difficult with the silver, magical brand on his tongue. Talking to people has often been a good experience for the most part. Provided he does not put his foot into his mouth.

Rome, she wonders if it is as beautiful as the travel brochures her ex used to collect made it look. Wonders where else this wolf has traveled. He is far from home regardless, and she listens intently as he explains where he came from, eyes steady with his. She doesn't know if it's the translation to English filtering through his mind, or something else. Either way she doesn't comment, doesn't rush. He is doing fine and she's patient. She wonders if his pack being entwined with a coven causes the slight smell that comes off it, but she doesn't comment on that either instead nodding as he speaks.

This town's a squat, and it burns her up that she can't leave it. Bringing the hammer down on things that go bump in the night is all well and good, truly, but now some fuckery's happened and no one can leave.

That includes her - which is irritating - because Port Leiry is so small change.

But the cold chases people away and means she has this frozen lake all to herself. It is magical, at least, scenic enough, and the ice feels good under her feet, the scrape and glide of something not polished in an arena something she hasn't indulged in in a very long time.

But then it becomes obvious she's not alone - this doesn't bother her; she's found the secret to be alone in the center of an arena full of thousands - in her element, in her mode. She runs over the events of the week in full; hunt bills, warnings, things to look out for; strange things lurking in the icy fog and flurries that have decided to so suddenly plague this city.

Work, work, work - and all she wants to do is play.

So she's playing, sliding across, leaping, challenging herself. She lands a few twisting leaps, tracing flowing lines across the pond's surface before she decides - thirsty - and slides over to the edge of the water, where her compatriot seems to be lingering. She grabs her bag, fishes an insulated thermos free and take a long draught from it, the amber glow from Westriver's pathway lighting casting odd shadows across herself and the frozen pond before she checks her phone on it's little tripod, and stops it recording. "Thought I'd be alone out here."

A press and they silence as the music is paused, breaking from the treeline the sight of a skater gliding across the pond comes into view. And maybe it's a bit weird moving to watch, but the movements are enchanting. Clean and sharp in a way that looks effortless. A control in a way that she can appreciate. Mitch has always been rudimentary on the ice. Sure she could skate without falling on her ass, but never like this. Not on something so wild and untamed as a pond surface. Skating was an indoor activity, something on smooth, shiny ice. Polished and clean. No what this skater was doing was elegant and dangerous.

She feels a bit foolish when the mystery woman moves to the edge and messes with her setup before speaking. "I thought the same thing. You're really skilled. But with your stance, and the risk you are taking I have a feeling you are already aware of that."

It's nice inside, he thinks - but he also can't be too much of a judge, he'd not been in many bars. It's not quite busy, but he doesn't think many places are these days. Every store he'd been to lately was sparse and chilled.

Quiet, mildly ambitious. Her actions, she thinks, come across better than conversation. W7hen they reach the bar she leads him in, hands slipping from her pockets as the warmth takes over from the frigid cold of the outside world. She waves the bartender over, lets Elio order than orders her own mug and pays.

She nodded as the other one exited the car, “It’s no trouble and dinner can wait.” She smiled again reassuringly, “I’m Estrid by the way, you know in case you need to use it later.” She extended a hand, names were always easier to have than not to have if push came to shove.

"Truck is going to have to wait. Sorry you had to come all this way for nothing. I think I should be good on my own, I know a place close by I can get to. Thanks again." She offers a friendly enough smile. The Alley isn't too far. She can wait this out for a bit then head home at least.

—

It isn't too long before the snow is picking up and they are rolling into the service station. She's sweating softly, which helps with the frigid weather, the heat of exertion warming her further, and she is slightly out of breath. But they are there. They made it. Talking to the mechanic, he gives her an estimate which makes her grimace. But she pays half and tells him she'll be back as soon as she calls. The Heron club isn't too far, and the snow isn't too heavy quite yet as she makes her way back to Elio.

“The service station should be just up here.” Estrid commented spotting the warm glow of lights in the distance, she wasn’t as familiar with the town as she would like but in a storm like this she would assume whoever ran the station would keep some kind of mechanic on duty. Breakdowns and inconveniences were more common in natural disasters like this.

As they pulled into the lit lot, a stir in Estrid’s wariness and girl code instincts prompted her to ask, “Hey do you want me to wait until you get your car sorted with whoever is in there?”

"I'm also a lot harder take down than I look." she barbs back, catching the near floral scent again. Her brain pouring over what that means, remembering what another older wolf has told her. Magic. The car smelled of magic. Interesting, but not uncommon in this area. She of course dares not mention it, because pointing out magic means an explanation on why she can smell it. It twinges her nose. Reminds her that not only witches smelt of magic sometimes.

A delicious aroma of lobster bisque wafted from her groceries in the back. Her parents had, from a young age, instilled in her an urgency to stalk up on both necessities and not-so-necessities when the sky started doing things it wasn’t supposed to, a phenomena that had resulted in more than one overly absurd shut in. So, alongside her daily essentials was a sinfully large vat of soup that Estrid had deemed essential form the store next to the general.

She smiled as it wafted through her car, a smile that slowly faded as she spotted the girl on the side of the road. Pulling to the side, Estrid palmed her messenger bag of things both strange and not as she hopped out of the car and approached. She didn’t know much about cars but she did know something about not wanting to leave someone marooned in a storm. “Hey,” she yelled just loud enough that the stranger could hear her over the weather, “do you want me to give you a lift to the service station? I promise I don’t bite and that smoke tells me your car isn’t taking you anywhere fast.”

Slipping into her seat she turns the key in the ignition, once and then twice, the truck sounds like it wants to turn over. Maybe yanking had worked and then it gives an ugly sound and another billow of smoke plumes from under the hood.

"Fuck…" she murmurs and hits the steering wheel a couple times before taking a deep breath to calm her frustrations. The keys are slipped from the ignition and she slides back out, boots crunching in the snow and ice as she locks it up then slams the hood back down before making her way over to the waiting car.

Today he runs into another car that is not working, this time with its hood up and a girl practically crawling into it. He stops to watch for a moment, with his bare hands in his pockets. The tips of his fingers feel like ice.

There is no ride to offer, and he cannot help. "Are you -" He starts, feeling the brand on his tongue uncomfortably in the cool air. Grimacing, he speaks slowly. "Would you like to be escorted to an au-auto.. store?" Is that what they are? Me - mech.. something. He cannot remember. But he can push the car. "I can help you push."

He looks strong enough that she doesn't think it's some random man trying to posture. She glances down at her hands, dirty and a bit greasy, frowning she rubs them on her jeans, glad her nose is slightly stuffed so she can't smell whatever putrid scents the truck is letting out.

where: the den

He should have grabbed the bat -- he knew that. Liam didn't want Addie to see the other side of him. The part of him that enjoyed inflicting pain on himself. But it wasn't as if he was doing it in the same way as when he was younger. No -- he was at a place that encouraged violence. Except, they probably would prefer if he'd use an instrument instead of his own fists.

Blood dripped over his fingers -- bruises already blooming from the many blows he'd thrown at the walls and other fixtures in the room. Matteo had left him. The man that he'd considered a father had left him. Maybe not by his own accord, and maybe not without a fight, but Liam was couldn't come to terms with the anger he felt towards the man.

He'd manage to hide it. To take care of his younger sister. Fuck, he'd integrated himself into a pack for her safety. Liam was not slipping as fast as he had when he was younger, but the slip was inevitable, nonetheless.

As long as it wasn't around his younger sister.

A door opened and he quickly spat out: "I paid for three fucking hours. This space is occupied."

So lost in thought she misses the number on the door, the voice that comes from inside is clear she's somewhere she isn't meant to be. She should apologize and go, but the fangs sink into her throat. "It was a mistake in numbers, no need to be a fucking dick." There is a pause, she's about to close the door again and then it hits her. Metallic, different from the scraps of metal that litter these places. Dark eyes look over him, then down to the ground by his feet.

Most of the city seemed like it wasn't really snow ready, if she was being honest.

Case in point, some girl on the side of the road, pissed at her car. She's halfway past when she recognizes her through the bundling up though.

"Oh, hey!"

Her brakes clamp, and the wheels stop but the car decides not too, skidding across icy asphalt packed with thin plowed snow during this brief stoppage in the flurries that seem to be never ending. The front end of her car drifts this way and that, and she manages to get it to grab the street again. Warm air becomes visible as it billows out of her window when it rolls down and she calls back to Michigan or Michelle or...

"Hey!" she calls back. "Need a ride?"

"It's cool I uh. I know you! From the place!"

When the window rolls down, she stands a bit taller and squints her eyes as she tries to make out the face inside. She looks vaguely familiar and when she speaks, points out that they know one another she tries to connect the dots. So they've seen her before, the face starts taking shape, she has seen her a couple places so this isn't completely out of the ordinary. If they were in the same spaces, especially The Heron club, that meant they held the same…species? Was she a new species now? That is fucking weird to think about. The problem is she can't for the life of her remember a name.

"Hey…you." She says with a bit of an awkward tone, because not remembering someone's name is kind of fucking rude. Her hand slips from around the, whatever the fuck, and she looks down at her hand, dirty and grease covered, with a grimace before looking back to the blonde.