teatimewithanoddmanâ:
Odd had initially set out because he could feel the loneliness inside him hollowing him out. He tried not to be maudlin. It didnât suit him but something about this feeling was horrifically new; almost alive like some creeping horror that lived in the shadows where you couldnât figure out friend from foe. He didnât think it was a friendly presence.
He rounded the corner as he headed to his favorite hunting ground: the park, but pulled up short. It was weirdly quiet in the city that night. So quiet in fact that he could hear the electric hum of the street lamp on the corner. It felt like the beginning of a horror movie and he might have been scared if he wasnât fully aware that he had long since become the thing that skulked in the shadows.
He was just about to go on his way when he heard the faint sound of footsteps walking towards him. Since the sodding mayor had sent hunters out after the supernatural inhabitants of the city he had done his best to lay low. He was out for nobody. His interests tended to be self serving at best and he didnât want to be an arrogant hunterâs story to tell his buddies at the bar.
Now though, he felt the pulls of hunger, the need to hunt. He didnât understand it. He didnât want to. He just wanted to feed and he didnât care if it was human or not. He crouched, bracing for attack when he saw a familiar figure coming towards him. Annoyance replaced any other feeling as he stood up and moved to where he could see him. âWhat are you doing here, dog?â He snapped, pacing uneasily against the edge of the curb. âShouldnât you be running home to daddy?â
Douglas was starting to feel better, at ease with his place, his priorities. Itâd been a tough decision to decide to put boundaries between him and Vitani. He liked her so much, but quickly heâd realized that when push came to shove, he had to focus on Charlesâ goal. The bird came first. Heâd been chasing it for too long for his best tracking werewolf to get sidetracked by a girl. As much as Douglas tried to justify it away, he had a job to do first, and he couldnât let Charles down. He was trained to track and hunt. Not to crush over pretty girls.
He was in the middle of scouting the route that heâd found whiffs of something similar to the bird shapeshifter he was tracking. It had to look human - it was too big in itsâ natural form to not be noticeable - but heâd yet deduce with his eyes who in the area it could be. Each scouting trip brought him a little closer, narrowing in on a specific neighborhood now where heâd found at least two feathers. Now all he had to do was be patient -
- but it was hard to be patient when the smell of rotting flesh slapped him in the face. Doug visibly flinched, smelling the vampire before he saw that he was in front of him. âOh, itâs you. I donât remember if you told me your name, what was it again?â Doug started, remembering the peevish vampire that had followed him for a short difference, asking him questions that at the time had felt unimportant. Being called a dog didnât phase him; heâd heard it before. But the strange manâs pacing and tense body language made Doug brace himself instinctually. âIâm on my way back from a personal thing. Itâs not really any of his business,â he said, his tone flat as he was trying to learn how to draw a line in how much information he gave people he didnât know he could fully trust. âCharles is my guardian. Heâs not my dad,â he said, frowning a little, âYou look on edge. Are you okay?â
Odd stared at him for a moment and did his best to ignore the smell of dirty, we dog that slapped him in the face. He wondered if the mutts would taste as bad as they smelled but quickly decided against testing that theory out. It wasnât worth the risk. âI didnât drop it,â he said. He wasnât planning on dropping his real name because he felt like something wasnât right. âDesmond. Des if youâre-,â he paused mid innuendo and shook his head. âDes. Just call me Des.â
He wasnât sure why he had fallen back in that name, his real name, the name he had before he became a vampire. It had once fit him well but now it felt like a too-small tee shirt; strangulating him. He shook it off, literally, curls bouncing as he started pacing again. âOh, ho!â He exclaimed, pulling to a stop. âSomebody grew a backbone I see! Bravo boyo!â He slow clapped and dropped his hands at his side, trying hard not to roll his eyes. âYeah, sure, whatever.â He said, waving it off.
He looked up, studying the boy. He wanted to ask him if he didnât feel it, something smothering and⌠scary. He seemed too at ease standing there in front of him, so he dropped it, shaking his head again. âIâm fine,â he said. âDid you find those feathers youâve been looking for?â He didnât exactly mean to give himself away but there was absolutely nothing he could do about it regardless. He was great at laying low.
