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   “ GIRLFRIEND SENSES ARE TINGLING WHERE’S MY GIRLFRIEND. ”
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@bratfield​Â
   “ HUH. NICE SHOT. ” Dean steps back, lowering his shotgun. For the first time in a long while, live ammo sits in the chamber. It’s strange to not be using things like rocksalt. But then again, this was manmade this time around. He eases his weapon down, before giving the woman a good look over. You’re hot as hell. He holds it back, but flashes a smile, with all the over confidence of a man who really thinks he’s irresistible.    “ You a hunter ? Or just wrapped up in this business ? ” He kicks the corpse by his feet to indicate what he means by this business. “ Tell you what, I should have expected man made monsters - but it still took me by surprise. ”
HAPPY MF BIRTHDAY ILYSM!
//avaaaaa I was just telling ana the other day how much I missed you <33333 Thank you!!!! ILY TOO OKAY! Twas on the 8th but I still appreciate all the messages!
PS- We need to write again like ASAP now okay?
"Does the howling ever stop?" she asked, turning her eyes to the closest window. The noise didn't bother her, per say, but it seemed so continuous. Endless. And sad. Somehow, it wasn't as menacing as it probably should have been. If anything, despite what she knew was out there, it tugged at her heartstrings in ways she knew it probably shouldn't. Her gaze flickered back to the older male. "Does it bother you ever?"
He paused, almost not registering the source of her query. He had learned to tune out the drone of the factory's machinery, the rhythms battered out by massive metal behemoths in perfect synchronous harmony. The howls of the Lycans came from without, not from within—and yet it was no less the same. So familiar were their forlorn cries that he head learned to deafen them entirely—ignore their existence as much as possible.
The Lycans were Miranda's darlings, not his.
At the question he leaned against the frame of the open door where he stood, gaze turned out toward the window. He hadn't even thought about it in so long.
"No." He lowered his head, turning his attention to the scuffed tops of his boots. The brim of his hat concealed his face, obscuring what scant emotion might lie there. "Don't pity the Lycans. Pity the villagers that still have their minds. Better to be an unwitting slave to Miranda than a blind one."
@bratfield​ asked
"Nemmy!" Her voice was sing-songy and bright as she stepped through the doors of the old police station. Would he hear her if he was in the basement? She couldn't be sure, so booted feet headed through the halls in search of the stairs that would take him down to his lair. She'd been gone for quite some time but she always came back. She hoped, briefly, that he hadn't been too lonely in her absence. She knew how the other survivors could be, how nearly none of them seemed to share the same inclination to kindness the way she and a handful of others did. Her boots thudded against the stairs as she descended, a small smile playing on her features. "Where you at, big guy?"
As soon as he was able to hear her voice the tyrant perked up and was immediately on his feet. To say that he was thrilled to hear Claire’s voice was a understatement. Given the bond that they had formed, how he instinctually saw her, it had been a blow to him that he couldn’t find her for a while. Despite his tracking skills he simply could not find her, always finding remnants of her scent instead of her.
So when Claire went down the stairs to the basement it was no surprise that she was quickly scooped up by multiple tentacles and pulled into muscular arms.
Nemesis purred and chuffed as he held his human close and nuzzled her, sometimes the noises being garbled together as if he couldn’t decided which one to make. He continued to rub up against her as he moved back to the nest and sat down with her in his lap. He didn’t seem to be too keen on letting his tentacles retreat for quite some time, as though he was afraid he would lose her again.
Finally though the tendrils let her go and went back into his body and he calmed down from his initial excitement. Now he just purred and held her close, from time to time giving her a lick and pressing his face against her to take in her scent. All the while his arms still kept a firm hold around her, still giving a sense he was fearful of letting her go.
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Blighted. She's heard the term and seeing him? It makes a lot more sense. He was one of the few beings in this place that actually scared her. That was a feat in itself. Claire was nearly unshakeable. But the glowing, deformed man? Yeah. Yeah, that'd do it. Maybe it was a little too close to what she'd seen in William Birkin. She wasn't sure. Even seeing him now left her anxious and her voice shaky when she finally spoke. "Hey... Listen... We can... you know. Like... Be friends, can't we?"
Strange, few to none visited him amicably; he terrified most of the abductees here, killers for experimenting on them with the blight, and the survivors who had to deal with most of the aftermath of blight corrupted killers.
He looked up from his journal where he was going over the possible theories after the inclusion of applying a positive energy to the ritualistic constructions of human bones tucked away in places during the Entity's feeding ceremonies.
Talbot gave her a slow blink, afterwards he flipped to a blank page in his journal and scribbled something down then showed her.
[What sort of benefit will you incur for aligning oneself to someone such as me? I am curious to what pushed you to approach me on amicable terms. However, I am not against the idea.]
“ it's the third one this week. are you sure everything's okay? “
@bratfield
Leon shrugs, stirring sugar into his coffee on autopilot. Exhaustion pulls at the downturn of his lips and the sluggishness of his movements. He watches the swirl of milk turn the coffee from black to a dark brown, swirling in as he mixes the sugar at the bottom. He takes a sip more as a way to stall than for the caffeine fix.
"I dunno," Leon admits, turning to look at her. He swipes a hand down his face. There's a headache behind his eyes, at his temples. "What, you don't get them, too? Getting kinda used to it at this point."
It certainly wasn't the first time she'd come to the old farmhouse but it was one of the first that she'd come here looking for Max. Claire had spent plenty of time here. It was quieter than other areas. Reminded her of a time outside of this horrible place. She liked sitting on the roof and watching the sun set. But she was here looking for Max. She had something for him, actually. And when she finally found him, her lips parted in a grin. "Hey! Listen. It's not much, but I found a few laying around the old RPD and I thought you might like it," she offered, holding out an admittedly crushed and bent, but still sealed, bar of chocolate. "Not much of it around but... I figured I'd share."
Max had been preparing corn husks for weaving when Claire found him, immediately dropping what he was doing he leap up to his feet to greet her.
"Claire, it's good ta see ya!" he dash forward, wrapping her in a hug and spun around in place before setting her carefully down, holding her shoulders to orient her in place if she was busy, "What brings ya around these parts?"
What was seen of his eyes, glittered with the suns rays as she held out the chocolate bar. "No shittin'! You wanna share with me? Thanks, hun!" he said as a smile grew on his face. "I have some corn I popped if you want to snack on that too!"
