#cloud:open

Ronan wasn’t sure why it was happening now. Chainsaw had barely moved during his morning trek, the occasional squawk being the only noise to slip past her beak. It hadn’t been until another figure came in sight that the bird took flight. “Hey,” he said softly, specifically to his pet raven as it flew closer and closer to the other body. “Chainsaw,” he said again, louder this time. In response he received a trill of ‘Kerah!’ which in and of itself was pretty annoying. Why couldn’t she just listen?

She flew towards the other with direct movements and there was no question she planned to land. Where she landed wasn’t really her problem, either. She could perch on just about anything. Ronan narrowed his eyes, allowing himself to look towards the unlucky person who’d find themselves with a raven on their head if they weren’t careful.

LOCATION — THE DRIVE IN

THE SUNSET, BLANK SCREEN, AND SMELL OF FRESHLY BUTTERED POPCORN. the drive - in held an aesthetic that penelope hoped would live on forever. typically she was accompanied by a friend, but tonight she was watching solo — still housing the same feeling as every movie night. money clenched in her fist, the witch made her way to buy snacks. an essential part of a successful movie night. popcorn — extra butter — candy, and water. the salty, sweet, and neutral. penelope collided with another being while walking back to her car. popcorn spilled everywhere, the butter and grease setting into the fabric of their clothes. ❝ you’ve got to be kidding me. ❞ her demeanor changing almost instantly. popcorn gone and a buttery - greasy mess of a shirt. 

“Da-... Han-... Lieutenant...” Connor’s face scrunched up slightly as he struggled with what to call Hank. He already had twenty eight years worth of memories of Hank being his father, and now suddenly he had memories of him being his partner, his friend, and his enemy all at once. Connor couldn’t make sense of it. “Hi Lieutenant. It’s me. Connor. I-... I’m at our usual table at Rousseau’s and-... If you get this can you meet me here? Or call?” There was another long pause. “Please...” He hung up the phone and returned to his glass of bourbon, his hand just swirling the drink that he hadn’t touched for the last hour.

“Hello? Do you know who I am? I am Katherine Pierce! People send me free crap just for existing. I am a trend. I have so many followers that it’s not even a readable number anymore and I will not be questioned by you, Bar Boy---” she slammed her hand down on the bar for extra emphasis. She had a second part of her semi-drunken speech planned about how she was also the myth, the legend, the most ruthless and well dressed vampire of her time but he wasn’t having any of it and instead left the bottle, like she had originally requested. Well, that was that.

She took a generous swig before spinning to face the nearest bystander (customer, victim) and pointed at them. “You! Do you DANCE?”

As he came close to a local restaurant that he frequently visited, he felt a presence behind him. Stopping, the Angel tucked the book away in his jacket, clearing his throat. “I would appreciate it if you would not sneak up on me in such a way. It’s useless regardless. I can sense you.” he turned, looking at the person he had addressed. “May I help you?” he asked, “I certainly do not wish for any trouble.”