Waverly Barrett

Keep an eye on things at Avi's little party. Orders straight from the big bad wolf herself were hard to turn down. 

Halloween wasn’t really a thing for her, she always seemed to have a lot due in October, but she could put together a costume from her closet, zhuzh it up enough to be Rave Lois Lane instead of the regular one. White shirt, black vest, blacklight paint on her cheek for a quick superman symbol to make it clear, and she was set. No kandi, that was Penny’s thing, but she was pretty proud of what she’d gotten together last second. 

Raucous at the Rave, Evie Andrews on the byline. She’d have to workshop that headline, probably, but making herself approach this like research for a story made it feel less weird. Less like she was looking for trouble, and more like she’d be giving it a real run for its money when it found her. 

Not that she was looking for trouble in the first place. She was just... watching. Observing. Glancing for trouble, oh-so-casually as she dug through a candy bowl and shoved a full hand of it into her mouth, more to look like she fit in than anything. 

TREAT!  Shoveling Candy into your mouth, you nearly crack a tooth on some cherry hard candy. Oop! Wait! That's a [RED GEMSTONE] The Red Gemstone Key item can be traded to the Vampire Council in exchange for a favor!

Ow. Even the candy bowl knows she doesn’t belong here.

The weird gem thing was stashed in a pocket for a later date, a mental note that Anish might know something about whatever it was, and she turned, leaving the snack table behind.

Bad idea. There was a much closer crowd now, one she was quickly lost in, trying to force her way through, all elbows and shoulders. 

That wasn’t working. The dancing, laughing, drinking crowd was turning more into a crush of people, one she was unable to get out of. The more she tried to push, the worse it got, like trying to fight the flow of a river and getting nowhere, almost getting dragged down from it all until—

She got an arm through a gap between some dancers, and instead of having to shove them apart to make her way through, a hand was in hers, pulling. A lifeline, one she took full advantage of, letting herself be pulled out and finally getting free of that crowd. 

“Holy shit, thanks.” Evie took a few deep breaths, trying to even her breathing out after the panic of that mess, “You’re like, my hero.”

It was only a couple hours into the evening when the pain pressed its way forward into Waverlys conscious thoughts. The ache that started in her knees and slowly crept its way up through her bones, settling in each one of her joints. Waverly knew what happened next, it would creep into the rest of her bones and into the muscles till it was all consuming. But she was prepared, these were the old tricks of a body well worn. Waverly had excused herself from her friend and had been moving to the edge party to smoke another joint when she saw the flailing hand.

The werewolf reached and grabbed the hand, pulling the other through the line of drugged out dancers. Waverly gave a cheeky smile at the women who appeared before her on the slightly calmer side of the crowd. "I've always wanted to be a superhero. Got an ideas for a name? Rave Women doesn't have quite the ring to it. " Waverly joked with a slowroll of her shoulder. The strain of yoinking through the crowd beginning to pull on something that already started to weaken. A slight grimace creasing at the corners of her mouth before the smile sprang back.

"But honestly its nothing. God knows I've been there, feeling like my skin is crawling off my limps cause people won't stop touching me." Waverly babbled, feeling the scratchy feeling of her fake mustache. God why did she pick a costume with sensory hell attached under her nose. Something with a cane would have been nice too. "I was just heading to like the fence to smoke a joint. So its really no biggy."

The low-fi vibe does get stirred up though, with Waverly's arrival, Ren's eyes snapping from where they'd dwelt on a beat up Pavement album cover pinned to the wall across the shop to the jingle of the door. It turns their normal blank-slate of a face into a reserved smile, and Ren's hand rises in greeting to accompany a nod. "Hey."

"Been fine," she answers, then, a few beats of conversational nodding later, "-Hey, no trouble. That's what the demo rack's for, you know? Happy it helped."

Ren busies themselves fixing up a display that doesn't really need to be fixed but retail trauma means if you've got time to lean, you've got time to clean, and while she's pretty sure Earshot's a bit more chill than a Circle-K, she's not about to gamble on it with winter coming up. She's got extra work at the Den now, thanks to Li, but that's one job in a three-job economy. The subtle slip-in of potential artwork does draw her attention more fully back to Waverly though. "Uh- uh, yeah, maybe, yeah sure! That's the kind of stuff I like doing, actually. You got like, an idea?"

Waverly hummed slightly at the question from Ren, turning her attention to the albums around the shop. It felt like covers that were just people never really did well, Beatles aside. Why would anyone give a fuck about them as people if they didn't know their music? But that left the question rattling around about what would make people notice the Tigs then. " I was thinking maybe something to do with the woods?Or like a fucked up tree. Make it known were a local band sort of thing. Tapping into that spooky vibes Port Leirys got. Or like if youd got ideas I'd love to hear them" Waverly looked at Ren, hoping for her approval as she started to brainstorm on the spot.

"So heres like the sticking point. I'm not exactly liqued on the whole cash front. But I can like comp some meals from the Artic which like is money not spent on groceries right?" Waverly paused and shook her head slightly. "But like I wanna be upfront about it since like art deserves money and all that. You do cool shit so if its not a fair trade I totally get it."

This side of town reeks like a damn zoo, mixed with the fresh salt and rotting fish. Yum. It's too close to the docks for her to feel comfortable, but she's here on a lead and a favor for a friend - not that the friend knows exactly what she's doing. Cleo'll get a text later if she finds out anything interesting. If not - she doesn't have to know.

She throws her cigarette to the ground, watches it roll for a second, then stomps out the rest of the lit embers, watching it turn to mush and mud under her boot before she approaches. "Yo." She lifts two fingers in a greeting, "Think I recognize you from those fuckin' demos at Earshot."

Waverly gently set her guitar back into its case, closing and locking it up, calloused fingers gently caressing the locks before focusing on the blonde women in front of her. Leather jacket, fresh cigarette smell and an attitude. Waverly was either gonna love her or want to deck her by the end of the conversation. "but yeah hey. I'm Waverly of the Tigs fame. " Waverly didn't get up for the pile of crates she had perched herself on top of, not wanting to risk one of her knees going out on her. But she did offer her hand to shake. "Who are you?"

It'd been months since his little brother had chosen to be a raging pain in the dick. Short of cutting off his hands and bundling him onto a jet, he'd refused to play ball in every sense of the word. A childish tantrum that he could've had a bit closer to the Thames. AJ had spent weeks too long developing a counter-curse for the charm on his brother's wrist, but he'd done it. Snapped it off like a toxic-ex.

What's your excuse now, Tite?

He didn't have one. Shipping him back to London had been one less thing his phone would be blowing up about. Instead, it's now Levi asking when he's coming back. And he's missed three consecutive fashion weeks, some telly premiere they asked him to attend, and he'd deleted the Love Island scout the moment he'd read the first line of the email from whatever bloody headhunter found his contact details.

From a work perspective, Astor hasn't been represented by an heir or an executive in any ECOS or ISO meeting since AJ had been dispatched to drag TJ kicking and screaming back home. Astorgold is likely going to take a hit in the environmental capacity for their negligence to turn up to anything on a global scale.

AJ's muted his phone for the first time in eons.

Port Leiry's crawled underneath his skin. Left lovers' kisses on his wrists, the same way golden scars leave strikes on his chest. Khàos has done numbers he never anticipated from a shitpit of a city with no taste. Some of the locals hadn't totally done his nut in, either. His power had reached heights he'd not anticipated.

And now he was at the sauce counter in Pollys, with a greasy taco that is anything but authentic in hand. He's wearing Prada's last Autumn line, because he's not been to the latest designer meets to get his fittings. It's a travesty, really. A year-old tracksuit is probably appropriate squaloring for the taco joint. Even the same Jordans on his feet that he touched down in Oregon in.

AJ's got an eye on the ever-growing queue as he plucks tiny packets of whatever cheap shit they've got next to the salt. No pepper? What. A person has tapped their card on the reader three times where he'd stood no more than two minutes prior and they're growing increasingly flustered by the unauthorised decline on the screen.

AJ didn't know those things did that.

They're apologising to the cashier, who also appears to be riddled with pity or tiredness of some capacity. Astor tries not to laugh when he slips a slick black card from his pocket, reaches over the cashier to flick plastic over the machine. "Alright, mate." and pays whatever tragic cost the taco in the customer's hand is. Then it's in his pocket again, a devilish smile on his face. He gestures to go to the door. Off you pop, then. He's heading out too and back toward the street. Astor's joking with them, still: "Get on the blower to your accountant, eh? You got a potential defamation case there, mate."

Waverly was far to stunned to protest as she was sucked into the orbit of the man. Following him to the door, mouth opening and closing without any sound coming out. "Firstly, I understood all the words that came out of your mouth individuality but you put them together in a way that makes it sound like you've come from a different planet" The werewolf hated feeling of being vulnerable. A stranger having to swoop in and pay for her tacos made her feel very small. Waverly's hackles were raised,her gut telling her to bite before she could be bit. "Secondly who the fuck are you" She couldn't wrap her head around why someone whos outfit cost more than her monthly rent would bother to pay for her tacos.

The sun and fresh air hit Waverly faces. The fresh air acting like a cold splash of water. Shit, she was being a bitch. A long low groan left her lips. Everyone one of her joints ached, and she had been taking it out on her guardian angel. "Finally, thanks. I owe you one. I can't really pay you back but I can get you into a show or something. Or like if you've got any odd jobs you need done."

It's not really a surprise that the bar's kinda quiet today - most, if not all, of the inhabitants are nursing aching bones and muscles with various forms of self care - most of them alcohol. He'd run with the rest of Cerb last night, so now he sits next to Waverly - wishing he could have the shift again. The pain had brought its own form of relief, then the form of his wolf has brought a break from thinking that was much needed.

The ache that it's left him with, he embraces and simply nurses a bottle of the cheapest beer he can find, curled around it completely. "Y'think the post-turn hangover ever gets better?" Swig.

Waverly snorted at the question, taking time to pour herself another glass of whiskey. She had used the leverage of her job to make a well bottle 'run out' earlier than it normally would. "I imagine it would get worse. Older you get the harder it is to put your shit back together. " Her voice felt hoarse, wrong as it left her throat. As if part of her mind still longed for the growls and barks that had been its language the night before. Waverly ran her finger over the rim of her glass, looking for answers in the amber liquid. "Sometimes feels like a reminder that we're not supposed to be like this. Straddling the line of whatever the fuck." Waverly finally looked over at the man next to her, the hunched posture the far away sight. "you want something stronger? you seem.. kinda fucked up?" Waverly was already poised half out of her seat. What was bothering her packmate was a mystery but she knew that alcohol was a good method of forgetting the things the haunted the days wearing human skin.

He had arrived into the city following rumors only. That it was a big city, as alive during the night as it was during the day. A city for the supernatural, with more than just witches. He thought it was a good place to look, to find her. He hadn't expected to be pulled into a pack, but even he had to admit Avi had a way of getting to you, maybe he just liked the way he talked all excitedly and fun, like a good storyteller. Kenzō had been charmed. And he didn't have any place to go so in the meantime, why not?. It served him right to get into this fancy pansy party.

He had just taken a snack between his fingers when it hit him again. A scent so familiar there was no way he wouldn't recognize it even between all these people and their expensive perfumes. He left it on the table, discarded over a crumpled napkin as he turned, searching everywhere before his eyes caught sight of her. He moved, rushing over to her in a sprint that definitely knocked over at least one person in his haste to get to her. Not that he cared.

There was already a smile growing on his lips, taking her in completely unharmed. And before she even had a chance to turn at the sound of his fast approaching, he wrapped his arms around her waist to lift her up in a tight embrace. "Oh thank god you're okay! what are you doing here? I've been looking everywhere for you, I was so scared! I got lost and then I got found by this really nice elderly couple, Grandma Maurice makes this really killer pies, you would had liked them." He spoke rapid fire in his excitement, still holding her close to him before he finally let her down. "Also damn sis, you look hot."

When Waverlys footing found the ground again, so did reailty slowly start to come back. How they were sepereated, the strain of their own relationship, her turning. " You were scared? I was fucking terrified dude." Waverly exclaimed smacking his shoulder good naturally. Reassuring herself with every touch that he was real and not some weird witch illusion meant to fuck with the werewolf's mind. "Shit youre really here. I thought you were…" Cloudy memories of that fateful full moon swam behind Waverly eyes. She had been certain that Kenzō had been dead but here he was. How did she explain what had happened. "But im here, youre here. Im always fucking hot. Your scruffy ass cleaned up nice tonight."

"I'm here with my pack." Waverly started slow, fidgeting with her hands. The admittance felt like a betrayal. It had always been the two of them against the world." Lihuén, she found me in the woods the next morning after everything. What about you? what are you doing here?"

"Waves, yo." She says, stumbling by her bandmate. "Your drink hand is empty." She pushes a glass of rum and coke Waverly's way. "You're hard to spot in a crowd."

She eyes past her, looks for anybody else familiar, in the bad way, before she commits to conversation. She's supposed to be hunting Waverly, after all. Her friend. Well, they weren't supposed to be friends. She's still not sure they are. She kind of hopes they are, kind of hopes they aren't, too.

"You uh, you having fun? I'ma need to uh, to bail early. I've got an overnight at the steel mill." Lie. Lie lie lie lie lie. She used to not lie.

"Funs a strong word. Running into a lot of old ghosts but I plan to drink the fancy shit that we can never get at the Artic and thats gotta count for something." Waverly shrugged trying to play off the emotions that were howling locked in the cage of her mind. "Shit I arrive late, you're bailing early. Ships in the night. You have fun at least?" Waverly asked, a coiling sense of responsibility sneaking around her tongue. She was part of the reason Cleofe was in this world, she needed to keep looking out for her.

"Want me to sneak anything out for you for after your shift? I know I'm gonna be craving these tiny pickles after the next full moon I can feel it in my bones."