Running in the Rain

'Lo there. I'd be Caleb Joshua Jackson. Born and raised in the south, I s'pose y' could call me a bit o' a cowboy? 'M in Glasgow IL at the mo', and I'm not...'zactly sure how I got here. Last I remember, I was being herded into the back of a van with a bunch o' other people- I remember bits of things, but they're...not 'zactly a good thing t' talk about out here in th' open, if you'll pardon my unwillingness. [[OC that usually loiters around the Sherlock 'verse. FC is Luke Klientank, nothing is mine unless otherwise stated. This blog will be NSFW and triggering, and will be tagged properly.]]

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Running || Caleb & Cailean & Evelyn

[archivalgenre]

Evelyn herself waited, patient and softly humming, through his apologies; oh, the poor dear. Didn’t know—anything, really, did he? Not what he was, or what they were, or what any of it meant; nor that being without clothes was just as natural a state as being with, and more so. A slow blink, and she settled back on her haunches, watching him with eyes at once soft and intent; focused, but not sharp, and still Cailean stood at a safer distance, waiting in the shadows of the wings should he be needed. “First ‘f all, love,” she began, keeping her eyes steady on his—not out of aversion to the rest of him, by any means, but simply to back up her own point—“there’s not a thing tae apologize fer. Ye’ve—ye’re frightened, I ken, an’ I promise ye frae th’bottom o’me heart tha’ there ent no shame in bein’ unclothed.” A glance over to her brother, then, and he nodded confirmation. “I ken tha”s a wee bit difficult tae understand, bu’ neither of us ‘re offended, I swear et.” 

That part dealt with, her eyes fell to—oh. Oh, sweetheart, mo chuislean. Almost instinctively, she shifted just enough to block Cailean’s line of sight, in the hopes he hadn’t seen it already; he’d find out soon enough, but, for now, this was between herself and the stranger, and the last thing they needed was Cai going off on another tangent about Sylvie and the things she’d done. 

Very, very carefully, moving in clear, slow, purposeful ways, she moved just enough to lightly rest fingertips on the pulse point of his wrist—hush now, breathe, you’re safe here, no one’s going to harm you, not while I’m around. “They’re wrong, m’sweetheart—they’re wrong about ye, an’ I dinnae believe fer one minute tha’ ye’d hurt me. Wha’ they made ye intae? Brother mine an’ I, we’re th’same—no’ made th’same way, bu’ we’ve the same blood. If ye come with us—with me—now, we can help ye learn an’ adjust an’ grow healthy again, arright? I promise.”

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She seemed so....so honest, so willing to help, and he could smell her and her brother being...is that what he was; is that why he felt like...like they were safe? "Y-you're...you're...like...l-like me?"  A tip of the head-chrissakes son, you're not a puppy, don't look at her like that-and he sniffled; ah, he looked pathetic and he knew it. "S-sorry, i-f I'm n-not offending y' with m' naked 'm probably....nh, offending y' w-with my pathetic...ness." And then an attempt to stand was found, and he actually made it; good boy, you won't get the collar tonight, and wiped the tears and rain from his eyes. "M'name's Caleb," he said softly; brushing wet, messy bangs out of his face and leaning back against the wall after a moment of dizzy contemplation; "I...I'll go w-with you, if...if y-y' promise not t'call....th-they're called Life L-Labs, and...if...if th-they find out where I a-am, they'll t-take me 'gain." Hand over the tube in his arm, and he stepped out of the shadows; head down as though instinct drove him that way-a pup kicked one too many times. He shivered at the sensation of rain on his skin as he stepped closer; just enough to have emerged from the darkness.

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Coffee and Conversation || Caleb & Z

"'Re y' sure about the tie?" Caleb asked dubiously; holding the strip of black up in Teagan's direction; "I can't...not even under m'coat?" "No, ye wee doofus; ties en't drink material. Ties 're more like...fancy dinner material. Seb never wears 'em when we go out 'lest et's a fancy place, and he usually ends up takin' et off the minute we're outside anyway." Caleb sighed and handed it over reluctantly; shaking his head as a soft laugh bubbled up; "well, could jus' be that your mister just doesn't like ties." "That too," Teagan murmured absently; ruffling Caleb's hair and he reacts to it with..."hey, I just got that t'settle!" A laugh, and he grinned as he swatted her hands away and re-fixed the errant strands that she'd introduced chaos to. "Almost time to go get her," he murmurs, glancing at the clock, "and you have baby names to go suggest t'your mister." "Aye, that I do," Teagan agreed, and it was a straightening of his jacket and a smile that she blinked out with; leaving Caleb alone and nervous and...well, heading for the door; boots hitting the hardwood with heavy steps, hands absently hitting the lights off as he heads out. 

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Roses || Caleb & Daeva

[in-the-dream-blog]

She’d—sort of felt him coming, in a sense, before he did; but all the same she startled just slightly at the touch to her hand. Felt him coming, yes, but hadn’t been expecting…the solitary walks had become more and more frequent, of late, because sitting alone at home had grown—well, melancholy, and there was something to be said for at least having the illusion of company obtained from surrounding herself with humans. Strangers, yes, but—it was people, and thoughts, and emotions, and it was better than nothing at all.

Still, once recovered, a soft smile found its way across her features, and she lifted her eyes up to—approximately, she figured—his would be found. He was—sweet, if a bit off-kilter somehow, and the thought behind the gesture had been endearing, no matter how awkwardly expressed. And—hmm. Warm—unusually so; a pause, and—ah. Not human? The frequency with which she stumbled on others comparable to herself was steadily diminishing as the years passed, and an extra sliver of warmth crept in around her smile upon putting two and two together.

“Thank you, messieur,” she murmured softly, eyes lowered almost demurely then—some habits never really did die—in pressing the head of the flower to the soft skin between nose and lips for a moment. “You’re much too kind.”e

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Much too kind? Well, Caleb didn't know about all that, but he smiled softly all the same; dipping his head and huffing a soft laugh by way of accepting the compliment. "Just wanted t'see you smile," he explained; and hands-in-his-pockets awkward Caleb was right there on the edge of his gaze; he reined the doofy kid within him back in to an acceptable level and followed up with "and as far as smiles go, you have a great one." He could, perhaps, give her prose, but it would be by way of song, and he was a bit rusty on the guitar anyway; roses and small talk would have to do-and she spoke french, which...he knew some, not much, but enough, and he murmured a soft you're welcome in response, hand brushing her upper arm gently as he spoke. "Would y' like t'walk with me?" he found himself asking, and sure, maybe he was weird, but if snowflakes here said yes, he could deal with weird in favour of walking with a pretty girl.

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Running || Caleb & Cailean & Evelyn

[archivalgenre]

Oh, love. Hush now—breathe easy, and Evelyn gave a quiet hum, low and warm in her throat, before glancing over at Cailean—a gesture, palm open, stay there for now, let me handle this. 

His scent was—familiar and yet different, and in taking him in her nostrils flared briefly, not in anger or fear so much as in…confusion; he wasn’t—? Hm. Neither born nor made in the way that she and Cailean had been, so how was he…?

Questions for another time, and she tucked them into the corner of her mind for safekeeping; perhaps to ask him when he as more cal, or perhaps simply to find out on her own. The chapter had resources, connections, there had to be information on him somewhere; all she needed, in the end, was a name.

A stab of guilt at the flinch—ssh, et’s arright, neither of us will harm ye, promise, and she shifted her weight to settle just a little further away. Close enough to remain—present, but not invasive. There was a time and a place for close contact, and it seemed as though this wasn’t one of them.

She knew he wasn’t alright; it was more…well, she’d lacked for an opening gambit, and she had had to say something, hadn’t she? His stammering was met with another soft smile, and she tipped her head before speaking, a lock of hair inadvertently falling into a dark coil in the hollow of her throat. “Me name’s Evelyn Gillespie, an’ tha’”—a gentle toss of her head in Cailean’s direction—“would be me brother, Cailean. We’re frae th’Glasgow chapter o’th’Global Lycan Coalition, an’…et’s a part of our business tae offer help tae—tae those down on their luck.” That wasn’t quite accurate; at least, it wouldn’t have been accurate were he human, but what she’d left unspoken was his nature. He didn’t seem to know, at least not in the fullest sense, and she didn’t want to terrify him further with new information until she knew for certain that he could handle it. Even so, there was a rope there for him to grab, both in the extension of help and in the enunciated ‘Global Lycan Coalition’—ordinarily she’d have simply used the acronym, and the fact that she hadn’t was a gentle nudge in the right direction.

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"E-Evely-n," he murmur-stuttered to himself, or possibly to her; "s'...would b-be a p-leasure, b-but..." No way to speak to a lady, y'useless-ah, no time for those thoughts, she...he...they were...ah, at least maybe they could...well, at least they wouldn't turn him in, whatever it is he was. Uncurling from himself just a bit, he was suddenly very conscious of how naked he was; and upon looking down, ducked his head once more; "s-so so-rry, I don-n't mean t'be so...n-not clothed." And then a thousand more apologies sprung to mind, and he couldn't think of anything to say; breath coming in a soft whimper as he shivered again; cold concrete biting into his skin where he knelt. "Y'...y'can...h-help me?" Caleb asked; head tilting in a rather-canine fashion. A soft sound of pain, and he pressed a shaking palm to his forearm where the auto-injector tube lay; skin red and raw from several re-injections of blood that wasn't his.  "N-no," he murmured, "I-I'm...n-not safe t-to be around, I..." As much as he wanted help, he also didn't want to hurt her, or anyone else, and he hesitently, tentatively showed her the tube, "th-they put...something i-in me, it's....I'm all...I-..." Faltering, he shivered; fingers worrying at the tube as he tried to phrase..."th-they m-made me into a m-monster-tha-t's what th-they call m-me, anyway. I c-could hurt y-you."

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Running || Caleb & Cailean & Evelyn

[archivalgenre]

Evelyn noticed it first—they’d been out getting food for the pack, of all things, late at night because it was hard to explain buying that much meat in the middle of the day; but the wholesalers that worked the night shifts didn’t ask as many questions or give as many funny looks. Leaving the shop, about ten minutes of walking back to headquarters and she’d stiffened, flat of her hand on the breadth of Cailean’s chest—

Stop, listen, breathe, do you smell that?

He nodded, abruptly silent in contrast to their previous lighthearted conversation, and stood back to let her move; she’d always been the more gentle of the two siblings, and the smell of his—yes, his, that was definitely a male wolf—fear was sharp and bitter, and it made his nose wrinkle in something that was almost disgust, or at the very least discomfort.

With slow, careful movements, Evelyn made her approach, keeping her breath quiet and her steps quieter; fingers brushing the edge of the dumpster behind which the unnamed wolf—poor thing, must be terrified, an’ et’s awful cold, do ye na’ have a home, love?—seemed to be…cowering before coming to a quiet crouch, eyes soft and voice softer.

“Love? Ye arright?”

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They found him.  Not who he was expecting, but still, someone, and he...he was terrified-he wasn't even going to try to hide it. Making himself as small as he could behind the dumpster on the cold, wet ground, he hid hid hid in hopes that he could stay curled around terror and no, no please don't bring me back there, please- But wait. Not the smell of...maybe his senses were off; he had no idea what he was, but he knew he could identify by smell, and that...that was a smell he'd not yet encountered. It was like home, almost; like something warm and family and heartkind. A woman...ah, but not just a woman. Was he alright? Did he look alright? Flinching at the sound of her voice, Cal-christ with the whimpering, he sounded like a kicked dog. Well, that...was sort of what he was, right? A goddamn kicked dog huddled behind a dirty dumpster, crying and alone and please don't send me back I'll be good please. "N-no, I-I....I'm n-not," he might as well be honest, right? "Wh-where...am I-I? Who...nh-wh-who are..." And he couldn't even finish his sentence, christ puppy, what the hell's gotten into you?

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Gears || Caleb & Sebastian

Goddamn Pete leaving his goddamn son here to do goddamn nothing-it wasn't like Caleb was here for fun man, he doesn't like working long hours in a sweaty garage with no one but the owner's son Lance sitting around to make fun of how he couldn't...quite...turn this gear- "Are y' gon' get up and help me out, 'r are y' just gon' sit there like a bump on a log and not do a damn thing?" And of course, Lance's response-the little fucker-was to get a soda and sit back down to laugh some more.  Cal's muscles hadn't exactly been on par since his escape, and this...this was fucking embarrassing. A pause, huff of irritation, and...and hey, the guy outside, he looked like he could... A toss of a sweat and oil covered rag in Lance's direction and Cal ducked outside; fresh air hitting his skin and providing an instant balm on his irritation. He nodded at the man walking past, and leant forward to signal hey, c'mere, wanna ask you something.  "Y'have a minute t' help out? Not an everyday thing, askin' strangers, but I've got a gear that doesn't wanna come loose and I just can't get it."

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Roses || Caleb & Daeva

She smells like snowflakes.  Caleb doesn't know much about other kinds-save for the fact that they exist, that is-and it's a bit strange to see one out in the open like this. Even still, he can't help but be drawn to her; she looks interesting, like she's stories to tell and places hidden in the photographs on her shelves. Ducking around a potted fern outside of the florist shop, he tips his head to the side and smiles...oh, but she can't see him, can she? A more direct approach, maybe...maybe he could... "Pardon me, ma'am?" he slips a rose free from the holder near the door and hands the girl at the counter enough change to cover it as he steps to where the woman is standing. Gentle hand on hers, and he guides her to take the flower, "I just thought someone as lovely as yourself could do with a rose on a Tuesday." A silly explanation, but...well, what could you expect from him, prose?

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Running || Caleb & Cailean & Evelyn

He was running.  The night was cold and yet, even as he knew he should be able to feel the chill biting at him, he was nothing but overheated; panting and running running. They'd left the door unlocked; the same door he threw himself at night after night and it was so cold but he was so hot and they were hunting him and it was all backwards because he was the hunter wasn't he? What have they done to you, Tex? Needles. Needles and electro-shock is what they'd done, and the blood in his veins wasn't his, but that didn't mean his heart didn't beat with it anyway; his traitorous body giving in to their demands and he was hardly human anymore at all. And so he ran; vaulting over things and ignoring how he could barely see for how dizzy he was; metabolism kicking in to speed along and take over anything left in his body from the doctors.  Howl at the moon, baby; they're coming for you.  Down an alley, and the rain was ice-cold as it struck his exposed skin; no one noticed, did they, a man running naked? Another stunt, the media would say. No one would help him, and there was nowhere to hide. He'd be dragged back kicking and screaming and be shocked to death for this; collar 'round his neck nearly unforgiving as it already was. Hide behind a dumpster, you wretch, and pray that no one finds you. 

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Caleb can play the guitar and the harmonica.

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Basic Info

Claims info: Face Claim: Luke Klientank Voice Claim: Christian Kane  Body Claim: Adam Levine General Info: Name: Caleb Jackson Turner Nickname/Alias: Cal, Jack Age: 35 Gender/sex: Fluid/Male  Date of Birth: April 10th, 1987 Place of Birth: Fort Worth, TX Residence: Siland Testing Facilities (previous)                      18 Sycamore Drive, Glasgow

      Education: Grade School: King Edward High School: Mackenzie King University: University of Fort Worth Tech Design  Appearance: General: Tall and fairly lean, Caleb is a well built, sturdy guy. He's got short, messy hair, and is often seen with a bit of stubble and a tan. He spent lots of time outside back home in Texas, and it shows-he has freckles for miles. Clothing Choices: Cal prefers comfort and things that can take some wear; jeans and tee-shirts; steel-toes and a good jacket usually does him well. When he's home, you can usually find him under a cowboy hat.  Height: 6'2" Weight: 168lbs Hair Colour: Auburn Hair Length: Short-ish, messy. Eye Colour: Light Blue. Handedness: Right. Jewellery: Rare, but he'll wear it. Other than his body jewelry that is-usually braided stuff, leather cording, things like that. Tattoos: Everything on his body claim. Piercings: None as of yet. History: Work: On the family ranch back home until his father passed on. The ranch was lost, and Caleb turned to helping the community. There was an ad in a local paper for pharmacutical testing, and Caleb applied and was accepted; flown to Ireland, and...well...the rest is history. He works at a garage now, and they're always looking if y'need a job.  Criminal Record: None. Things: Drink/Smoke/Drugs: Occasionally/yes/no Skills: Working on/fixing farm equipment, cars, the like. Is a pretty fit guy, used to working hard outdoors with harvesting, raising cattle, tending to basic ranch duties. Can ride horses; cook fairly well, and can play the guitar and the harmonica.  Hobbies/likes: Being outside, adventure, hiking, camping, fishing, cooking, photography, dancing, working on cars, going hunting. Dislikes: Bigotry, loud noises-though he works in a garage now, so he's getting over that-hate, needles, the colour pink, and lab coats. Phobias/Fears: Doctors, needles, loud noises, electricity (in shock form.) Bad Habits/Vices: He has a habit of stuttering when he gets nervous, and will eventually freeze up if met with a bad situation. Relationship Information: Sexuality: Bisexual Known Past Relationships: None remembered. View on Relationships: He does, however, remember that he was raised a gentleman. He's kind and very keen on taking things slow and courting his partner the way he was taught.