Drew.

Drew

Vihaan

Remington

Devya

Rhys

Simone

Either comment and specify who, or I will come slide into your personal space.

VIHAAN

“Well, yeah, man. No shit. But reality ain’t always that dramatic… And somethin’ so small bein’ fought over so loudly? Y’only see that bullshit on shit like Big Brother or somethin’.” Chevy gave a shrug of his shounders, moving to put the cigarette out in the small ash tray set beside him. He’d noticed he was a little more awkward and anxious since he’d left for that first time, but maybe it was because of the conversation he had with Hal the second he came back to town that still had him on edge. “I’m ah… I’m Chevy by th’way. Hal’s rescue.”

Chevy had been watching from the door of Hal’s home, smoking a cigarette. He was about a third of the way finished with it when he noticed the argument taking place, giving a slight smirk. While he normally hated yelling fits, he couldn’t help but continue to watch this one. The reason they were screaming? One slept with the other’s sponsor. It was perfect entertainment for the wolf while Hal was working.

Hearing the audible little ‘nope’ the other made, made him almost cackle with laughter. “Interestin’, ain’t it? How somethin’ so small could turn into such a huge argument, yeah? ’s like a fuckin reality TV show, but instead of on tv, it’s in person.”

These were the times where social interaction was hard for him - it was the lack of filter, and tendency to air of the side of sarcasm that could bring him the most reckless kind of trouble. Drew wasn’t ever really concerned about what kind of issues would arise due to his mouth, either, because fighting his kind was...well, sort of like trying to win against a brick wall. That thought was what edged up the corner of his mouth, looking at the wolf.

The twins aren’t the people they were supposed to be, they succumbed to being cold after the loss of said parents. 

That one time in Spain.

Cover songs, including the complete collection of ‘pop goes punk’ albums.

The fact that he failed his family, and didn’t even know his own brother has been alive for this long.

PSST: Three things that I’ve always wanted to tell you.

He said it like that was the easy option. And technically maybe it was, but she couldn’t just leave. She’d be caught in a heartbeat and then her life would be over. “I can’t. I need the safety that Folie would provide.” Catarina frowned at the way he so simply brushed away her concerns. Many of the sponsors were like that, she was finding. It was simply making her feel less sure about sharing her memories with any of them. At some point, she would have to give in, she knew that.

“Just because I don’t like it doesn’t mean I’m not going to give in. Eventually.” And she would simply wait until the last moment, though she didn’t have much time. At this point, it felt like she was aiming at a dart board and throwing with her eyes closed. 

He didn’t understand the need to protest the conditions that would keep her there, if she was going to abide by them either way. It was bitching for bitchings sake, and there was very little point in wasting the breath that it took to accomplish, as far as he was concerned at least. Instead, he listened to her speak with a shake of his head. “I’m sure there are other places that may make you see the benefit of the memory exchange.”

He couldn’t name them all, but he knew of a few others towns just like this one - on the surface. They looked and felt the same until you realized that you were a prisoner, trapped there whether you liked it or not. It was certainly an exchange of power, that much was for sure. The gargoyle had never been on the receiving end, but it didn’t sound like a good time either way.

He had been standing in the office for what felt like forever. Patience was one of many virtues that he simply didn’t possess. There would never be an apology for that character flaw either, instead it was embraced with open arms. The gargoyle eventually propped himself against the wall, eyes drifting across the desk, a few of the things here felt oddly familiar. It was a strange feeling, crawling up the back of his neck and attempting to whisper something he couldn’t understand in his ear.

That was until the door opened and he’d confirmed what he’d been thinking the whole time - there was a reason it felt like he knew this one, like he should have been well aware the figure that walked through that door was that of his brother. The problem was? His brother, his twin was very much dead.

Constantin gave the woman sitting next to him a couple of tries. She went with a ward, which was a valiant guess, he would give her that, a totem was followed and then simply – I don’t know, I give up.

“A demon vault.” The vampire answered.

“Yeah, right and I’m bigfoot.” There was a snort and the click-clack of heeled shoes punctuated the woman’s exit, leaving him to smile into the next gulp of his drink, the coin still rolling between his fingers.

Drew was far too well read not to know what it was that the vampire had been talking about the minute those two words had left his mouth. There was, however, no reason in the world he could think of, that he would need it. It caused an obvious cant of his head, before shrugging shoulders. He knew how this was going to end.