#wanderingwere

{OHMYGOSH I CANT THIS IS TOO MUCH THERE IS NO BREATHING ONLY LAUGHTER AND TEARS}

ツ:A guilty desire of theirs.

((so i sat here trying to think but all i get is white noise. I'll add something here once i think of it xD

♫:Favorite music genres.

Asha's a fan of pretty much everything, though I'd have to say world, indie pop and trance music are her top three.

★:Their favorite celebrity.

Emma Watson, definitely. She loves how the actress is determined to still remain true to herself despite her fame. She also finds it rather amusing that She and Kat look eerily  alike.

♕:Their most prized possessions.

A tiny gold bangle that her mother gave to her as a child.

☃:Would they build a snowman

She'd been tracking this target down for two weeks. Two weeks of relentless chasing, running, piecing clues together, sleeping in shady motels or in makeshift tents, two weeks where the smell of coffee was no longer enough to keep her awake and sharp. She'd taken two caffeine pills directly that night, and for the moment being, she had forgotten what it even meant to be tired.

Which was all well and good, considering that the looming abandoned toy factory in front of her gave off a foreboding sense of bad-- bad for the werewolf who had been found, she told herself. She wasn't new to this game, she reflected as she checked her pistol to make sure everything was in order. She wasn't new to this, and all she had to do was pull the trigger as she had been doing for years. And then a good night's rest, a hot meal and perhaps a couple of days off as a reward. Motivated by her self-gifting, she went through the side door quietly, taking care not to make the rusty hinges squeak too much. She'd scouted the plans for the factory the day before, although finding them had been a bitch and she couldn't vouch for the validity of them- but if her quick scout earlier that morning had proved to be true, she just needed to make her way to the offices area of the building.

Still, the thought of the werewolf getting away from her the night before in the forest still left a bitter taste in her mouth. She was glad he'd run off here to hide out and not across the state like any sane,intelligent wolf would have done. She wasn't sure if it was an insult to his intelligence or an insult towards her assumed hunter skills-- but either way, she just wanted too see the hole in his head and to get out and back to her hunting group.

"Look— I just came to pay for the Bentley coupe I dropped off for repairs last week. But if you’re serious ‘bout this whole mistletoe thing—-" He couldn’t help but to notice it was everywhere. 

Surely it had to be some kind of yuletide joke.

The brunette groans, rubbing furiously at the end of her nose. One sprig, maybe two, would have been fine, but the office is fucking overgrown and the fucking smell is driving her insane. She was going to kill her brother.

"Haaaaaa," she calls out dryly from the office where she's gathering his paperwork off the printer. On the way out to the front of the shop she stops long enough to pull down the string of mistletoe hanging over the door. "Fuck," she mutters under her breath as she tosses it violently into a trashcan as she passes.

{oh why thank you, i love a healthy dose of ANGST WITH MY COFFEE UGH T-T }

The din of the diner was welcomed to help drown out the buzzing housed between her ears. The sound always surfaced after a job; a result of the adrenaline fading into a quiet nothingness (the itch for something to do). The waitress waltzed by, poured another cup of coffee, and assured that her order would be out soon.

A corner of her mouth rose and curled into as much of a smile as she could muster at the woman, mug held snugly between both hands as she cast a slow glance around. Late night patrons-- truckers and tipsy twenty-somethings looking to sober themselves up after a night out on the town-- were scattered around her. Every so often the group to her left would burst into raucous laughter, bits and pieces of their conversation overheard with thinly veiled annoyance.

Food first, mug throwing later.

Priorities.

The dancer had spent several hours wandering the large expanse of the city’s local mall in search of gifts for her many friends, and so far, she had very little to show for it. Giving a tired sigh, she began to move through the bustling crowd, her sights set on the elevator, ready to go home. Just as she entered, she looked up to spot a familair face— one she had hoped to never see again.

Jace.

Maybe if she was lucky, he hadn’t noticed her looking, maybe she could avoid— Nope. No he’d definitely seen her. That smug smirk of his had formed, and he’d already begun making his way to her.

…shit…shit shit shitshitshit…

Doing her best to appear as if she wasn’t panicking she slammed the ‘close doors’ button with hopes that she might yet avoid him.