#c;raiden

The wolf was off to the side when someone dared get too close to him. Immediately the wolf reacted by letting out a low growl of warning to the other. Don’t get too close. It warned.

   Things had been quiet since the festival-- not that you would find the Nephilim complaining all that much. Quiet was good simply because it meant he could focus on whatever he was currently reading or learning. Russian was the current focus for the slave but he was limited on what he had access to. He was copying down some russian characters when the ink his pen ran out. He scratched it at the top of his piece of paper for a few seconds before letting out a soft grunt of frustration.

   The slave took in a deep breath before tucking away his materials to a place he knew they wouldn’t be bothered. The other slaves rarely had any interest in his books, finding the material boring. He was walking down the hallway then, dead pen in his hand before he found a guard. He hated asking for anything, but something as simple as a pen was needed on occasion.

    “I was looking for a task for a new pen.” The guard looked him up and down, before grunting out a dismissal. No pen from him apparently. Angel let out a deep sigh before moving on and found him seeing a familiar face, but one he hadn’t seen in what felt like ages. He dropped his head down, eyes to the ground, “It is good to see you, sir.” He nervously fidgeted with the dead pen.

↪ @mpraiden​ 

technically speaking, it is spring now, and london would argue that it’s the reason why she decides head down to the han river. but she’s been outside for not even fifteen minutes and she can barely feel the spring-ness, the cool winds still nipping away at her cheeks. 

she stops at a nearby bench, not sitting down because it seems to be a little damp with morning dew, and rubs her hands together to warm them up, berating herself for not having worn her gloves. she lets out a sigh and tucks them into her coat pockets, her breath coming out in a soft cloud of warm air in front of her, and it’s when the cloud disappears that she notices someone else a few feet away, a sketchbook balanced on his thighs, brushing his hair out of his way and behind his shoulders as he studies the page intensely.