nothing good nor evil exists, only the perceptions we fall into believing’ Nathan Myers reluctantWerewolf nothing will ever be enough, yesterday Tomorrow The road can’t save you From yourself.
Her whole protect everyone act was ridiculous, even Katya saw that for herself, the one softness she had came out full force on the full moon and more so as she got to know more of the towns residence. That was why she had done the rather ridiculous thing of making her way to a wolves home, actively putting herself in the way of danger once again just to make sure that he was okay.
She had stood out side the door to Nathans apartment for a few minutes, wondering if it was really a good idea to check in on him, but she also knew that she would only beat herself up if she didn’t. Her knock came as quiet as she could, knowing he would hear her at least, which was quickly confirmed by the growl back at her.
“Open your damn door or I’ll knock it down.” Katya didn’t need to raise her voice, a good thing really if she had any hope of keeping her visit quiet and calm despite her tone, waiting with her hand resting on the dagger at her hip, she might have trusted him for the most part but that didn’t mean the brunette was stupid.
The level that Nathan didn't want to deal with people had hit a high point; exhaustion and that prickly sensation that his muscles were prying away from his bones had ground his usual bland opinion of other people into ice. He wanted to sleep, on one level he just wanted to sleep for a month, but every other nerve under his skin was screaming; to move, be outside, roam. Things that Nathan had always rolled his eyes at in the past at his brother's restless complaints over those moon-heavy nights.
He scoffed at the notion of knocking down the door. She would, he knew, but didn't care. Of all the nights to actually show up? Katya had picked the worst. "Not in the mood for this," he nearly hissed, shutting his eyes with the words. He found her grating on people hilarious when it was other people, not so much when it was demanding concern centered on him.
Then again, that door was keeping the world out, and on some basic level Nathan was fairly sure he needed that security blanket in his state of misery.
Everything felt wrong when moved, stilted, weary motion that ended with his hand shoved against the door frame and the other pried open the locks. As soon as he had managed it he collapsed on the couch and threw an arm over his eyes. "In spite of wishing otherwise, I am alive."
It was a weak accomplishment though, and he'd never exactly disclosed his abnormalities to her, it was just a marvelous evening to discuss his faults.
"I am a werewolf, you know," he mumbled, "it isn't a good night to randomly visit."
“Bad time? No, not really. The wolf and I share the same inquisitive nature and I guess you happened to make for an interest right before sunrise. It happens sometimes. I don’t really have any control.” He didn’t remember a lot of what happened at night, just flashes and intense feelings if they were experienced. For the most part the wolf was in control but as dawn approached he became a bit more aware of things going on. It was strange in a lot of way, he lived two lives and it was no wonder that some of the pack had difficulty differntiating the two.
“Well, that’s a relief.” He offered with a good natured laugh. To be honest, it probably wasn’t his either. Probably among the more ridiculous outfits, pink yoga pants not really being his thing. He remembered seeing the other having left the hospital, he made the assumption the other worked there and the other seemed….tired. He figured he’d wander off with his good deed and Roan would go off to be home.
The musing of the other kept him in his place. Of course the people of Barton Hollow talked about the cursed pack; but it sounded like some fable that people jsut liked to gossip about. “Cursed wolves,” he said with a bit hated behind the words. “Our former Alpha declared war on the Trinity Coven when we first arrived here. His command was law. So in retaliation, the witches cursed the pack. Now were left to make amends for doing too little too late.”
"Oh yeah, I'm just extremely interesting." Nathan replied with another amused sound and that tone of clear disinterest to carry the point. He made a practice of being out if sight, out of curiosity of most of the wolves in the Hollow. Back home the city lent more to being human as a norm to blend in but the sane was not true of that town and there was an uncomfortable degree of exposure to it. The less he crossed paths with people who had expectations the better.
The bits and pieces he'd heard about the wolves and packs were mostly filed away under useful information that he didn't allow to affect him much; with an absolute certainty that he wouldn't be joining any of them it was only distant curiosity. Distant enough that he'd never chased any rumors to find out the truth.
"That's seems ridiculously stupid." He did in fact realize that the man was obviously the alpha of the pack now, but it didn't change his opinion. "Nobody thought it might not have been a great idea to get a bunch of witches riled up? Okay."
Maybe he should have given them some credit for being bold, but mostly he thought it was some first rate terrible leadership.
"See, that's why I'm not a big fan of that, in general, packs; big egos and power trips screw everyone else over." He wasn't winning any favor with the alpha but he wasn't exactly devastated by that fact. "Those pants are as horrific as I'd thought they'd be, by the way." He added with what was likely humor, deadpan as it was.
It’s not like this was the first or last time something like this would happen; the wolves took over in the evening with a mind of their own. And though the creature had a sense of home and where it was to return to, it could do what it did this evening, venture off out of curiosity leaving him to beg, borrow, or or steal clothes. The other wolf could just leave him them and well he’d figure it out from there. Luckily it seemed, the other was willing to help as he was told not ot leave and disappeared back into the hospital.
A small mercy at least as he sat there waiting. The other returned shortly after and tossed over a shirt and pink yoga pants. Beggars could not be choosers. He could suffer it for the occasion until returning home.
He dressed and well, at six foot two, the pants obviously had been meant for someone shorter and the shirt, it smelled - though as a wolf he noticed it, a human would not. He put it on regardless and finally climbed to his feet. “Thanks.” he said looking over the top of the car to his would be savior of the day.
“Memorable and awkward first meeting. I do appreciate the help.” As ridiculous as he probably looked, at least it was better then standing there in his birthday suit in front of a complete stranger.
"Having a bad time with the whole...werewolf-ing thing?" Nathan had a naturally scrutinizing expression as he studied the guy, but it was just his default. A resting expression, a rather unfortunate one in most cases.
But part of it was actual curiosity, the part that kept him from heading home for a nap that felt like it had been a month in waiting. He'd never seen an alpha out of sorts, it was a perplexing sight and almost worth sticking around to ferret out more information.
"Not the strangest first meeting I've had." Because he'd had a few colorful ones in various states of his intoxicated evenings. "You're one of the ones who have to change," he mused, more a certainty than a question, "I didn't know if that was actually real or just more of the idiocy that people pass around here when they're bored."
Was it possible that the white wolf gave the other a roll of its eyes at the response to the cigerette? Who knew a wolf could be so judgey anyway. It let out a sigh, wolf to human communication was hard when there was some form of intelligence. Charades was what it had to be for now; the human form left to figure out what the wags of a tail, the flicker of ears and body posture meant. As the morning slowly crept in during that interaction, every minute ticked by closer to sunrise and it seemed the white wolf was just waiting.
It shifted from paw to paw, its head looking to the sky again - impatience. It knew something was coming. The wolf suddenly darted then from behind in the open to behind one of the cars. Dawn was rising and from behind the car, there was the sound of bone snapping and shifting out of place from a four-legged wolf to a bipedal human being. The animal sound of a whine shifted to a human groan as the change was forced back in the morning.
Roan hadn’t been expecting company; usually he’d be home to the car garage or where clothes had been left out in the woods. He had left the pack that morning and then sidetracked by the other. He was sat on the ground behind the car, naked, cause why would a wolf wear pants. “I’m guessing you’re still standing there,” he said with a shake of his head. “You don’t by any chance have a spare shirt and pants or else this is going to end quickly and awkward.”
He remembered what the nagging thought was once the wolf darted off before the sun could crest in the sky; the stray rumors he'd heard about the cursed pack in the Hollow. Werewolf gossip, or so Nathan assumed, at least until the confirmation of it was in front of him. Or, rather, speaking to him from a hiding spot behind a car to avoid being entirely exposed.
Aside from a vague motion over the sum of himself and the lack of anything in hand that he might have possibly have clothes tucked away in he simply stood there for a moment. He really was tired, and it really would have been much simpler to walk off and leave the guy to figure out how to save himself from that plight. Nathan had already gone through a long day of being far more helpful than he liked to reasonably consider himself.
But, it was one of those why the hell not days, apparently. "I'd say stay there, but I'm guessing you don't intend to move anyway." He mused as he put out his cigarette and meandered back towards the doorways of the hospital for a short and uneventful trip to the lost and found.
He couldn't vouch for the shape or possible cleanliness of the bland t-shirt and the horrendously bright pink pair of what he assumed to be yoga pants, that one might have been very much on purpose for his own amusement, but they were functional and ended up tossed relatively close to the car. He wrote it off as his good deed for the day.
"Not having a great day with the werewolf-ing, huh?" It really was bemusing to watch, more entertainment than he expected that morning.
Nathan had experienced his fair share of hangovers, bouts of illness and the usual miseries in life. The night he was having went well beyond anything he’d suffered through in the past. It was the Hollow, he’d concluded, every full moon since his arrival there had been progressively worse; building up to the point he found himself in that evening debating if getting run over by an actual train was better than dealing with the metaphorical one that was screaming inside his skull.
Throw in an ongoing wave of intense nausea that had left him revisiting his lunch rather violently and the absolutely horrendous feeling of burning along his nerves under skin that he could practically feel with disgusting clarity slide over sore muscles? It was shaping up to be a delightful evening.
Not even counting the sanity-numbing echoes in his brain and what he hoped were some sort of moon-induced lapses in sanity that had put him in a mood that was even more teeth and sharp nerves that his normal degree. He hated it, all of it, he’d never suffered through the full moons before; it was a particularly spiteful sort of hell.
Everything was too loud, too much, he startled from a crashing from the kitchen and growled, shoving the door open with his shoulder to the sight of broken glass glittering from a tipped over pitcher flung across the counter and the window suspiciously ajar. It was hardly under his breath, the trail of tense words as he realized what had happened.
It was odd, a reflex, he had a perfectly good front door and yet he still flung the window up and used it as an exit instead. "Frankie, dammit, of all the nights to run off. You're going to get mauled in this Gaia-forsaken place." Nathan snapped, his cat running off was the perfect end note in that chorus of frustration.
No, nevermind; actually that was the window dropping shut behind him. The security glass window that locked automatically when shut. And the keys to his apartment...still in the apartment.
The roll of nausea creeping up in his stomach was by no means helped by the dizziness that spike of anger fueled. "Sonofva-" the string of curses that followed was rather creative as he stood there just glaring at the window with deep, exhausted, utter loathing.
He wanted nothing to do with the world that evening. It was all a nightmare; an ongoing race between his body feeling like pins and needles from the inside out and overheating sore muscles. Nathan wasn't betting on a winner either way, he was just waiting for the dawn to drive away that skin-crawling, stomach-aching madness.
It really wasn't better than being out in the world beyond the Hollow and risking being murdered by anti-supernatural fanatics but it only happened with full moons there so it was just barely tolerable. Like death, in a slow, lingering way that never actually came but was a real bastard teasing a person.
He'd abandoned the thought of sleeping it off quickly; the actual nightmares were full of razors with his mind untangled that way, and had settled for sitting in the corner between the couch and the wall in the living room of the apartment. He could practically hear his bones grinding against each other with every motion so, of course, the knock at the door sounded a hundred times louder.
"Go. Away." He growled, hand lifted to drag through his uncharacteristically mussed hair; he couldn't fathom who would be bothering him that night but he lamented not having something within reach to throw at the door.
Curosity killed the cat, or so they say. For the wolf and it’s human facade, it was a shared trait and smelling the other wolf caught it’s attention. Perhaps it was the mixture of putrid smells on the other but inheriently it knew the other as ‘cousin’ similar but different. The white wolf made no attempt at attacking the other. In fact, there was an intelligence in those eyes that far surpassed animal instinct of fight or flight. It wasn’t threatened right now and with after a long night of running through the woods and dawn nearly upon them, well, the wolf was slowly fading and the human side taking over.
The white wolf moved closer, though by size alone it was threatening, it didn’t bare it’s teeth or appear aggresive. The white figure stopped and there was still a good seperation of feet between them. It was hard to articulate what was passing through the wolf’s thoughts, a twitch of ears and the gesture of it’s head to the side as if contemplating if the other would taste agreeable or not. It looked for a second like it might consider making a meal and then it’s tail wagged as if to say ‘just kidding’. The wofl wasn’t starved by any means and had no desire for the taste of another werewolf in human flesh.
The wolf steadily watched the other take a drag of the cigerette, judgement obvious and the words on it’s features saying ‘those things will kill you’. Why this particular werewolf caught its attention, it was just the right time and place. An off chance meeting. The sky was beginning to lighten more and more as the interaction continued and the wolf’s head shifted upwards and then back to the other; attempting to explain something.
He took in the full scope of fluff and such that was the marshmallow wolf, honestly it was the coloring that led him to that bizarre thought, and it was the tint of those blood-glow eyes that made him a bit less comfortable. Alphas, in his experience, were of a similar lot with bad tempers, ego problems, and that unfortunate air of self-important annoyance. Even worse? They were usually right.
It already set him a few mental feet back from excessively friendly, but then again, the day overall had been a test to his social skills.
"Something will anyway, sooner or later," Nathan remarked over the look fluffy gave him for smoking. Stress would kill him, nicotine calmed the buzzing in the back of his skull, at least for a moment or two. "Wouldn't advise it though, it's a disgusting habit." He added with another bland, and purposed, drag on the cigarette.
When following the wolf's gaze upward to the sky Nathan uttered a sigh; right, morning would crest soon. No wonder he was so dead on his feet. "Charades? Oh joy, I remember this game, yeah. Or you could just, you know, have a conversation."
He was practiced in reading body language when it came to wolves though, necessity of growing up with an old brother and friends who expected him to know what was going on.
"So...morning? What about it?" Something registered in the back of his mind, but he couldn't catch it, whatever it was the conversation brought to mind, some vague detail about wolves and morning.
It wasn’t anything overly unusual to see wolves running in Barton Hollow and it wasn’t just during the full moon. The Trinity Coven had cursed one pack to teach them lessons; so from dusk till dawn they roamed mostly in the woods and hunting down deer and controlling the rabbit population. If was sometimes hard to differentiate their lives, half of it was spent as human the other half as wolf except for night of the month under a new moon when they could be human for twenty-four hours.
The full moon was still a couple days out; this was just a typical start to a day in Barton as the dawn wasn’t far away. A while wolf made its way through the back alleys of the town much like a stray dog that felt like it owned the place. It used a dumpster to jump a fence to land safely on the other side. There was an intelligence to the creature thoguh, a purpose to its movement; not your run of the mill dog. It was heading home while its human half waited now under its wolf facade.
The wolf was satisfied from a night of hunting. It wasn’t looking for food. No, when the soft wind of the early morning shifted and it caught a scent it wasn’t prey…but another wolf. Not pack. The white wolf followed the scent stopping under a streetlamp to watch a figure walk across the hospital’s parking lot.
@nthanmyers
When he had first come to the brilliant conclusion that he might as well put his blotched attempts at going through school to be an RN to some version of use Nathan had decided that there was decidedly less stress to be had in being a receptionist there rather than finish out his license. And in any other situation it would have been true; fielding incoming patients and keeping track of rooms, doctors and the like was hardly as tense as actually treating said patients.
In theory. But the Hollow didn’t follow any sort of normality.
Any given day he might spend half his time answering phones from werewolves about worry over their toddler biting the neighbor’s cat to vampires worried about contracting blood-borne STDs. They couldn’t, by the way.
And that day had been a particularity tiresome one that had ended with him having to stand with a bucket full of ice and various wings bit while a fairy with the ill fortune to have crossed paths with the business end of an oscillating fan complained and the actual nurses ran round prepping to treat them.
Still not as bad as the day a pregnant werewolf who had retained the hunting instinct had come in with food poisoning from eating an actual raw rabbit. Apparently Thumper was fine for the wolves but human constitution added with pregnancy nausea made for a bad combo. She’d only made it as far as the front desk before proving the point.
Three showers after his shift still hadn’t felt like nearly enough.
When it was time to go home he was out the door without much said, one thought in mind; his couch, his laptop, and having the next day off. He may as well have been a zombie, hands delved into pockets in search of his lighter before fishing out a cigarette and placing it between his lips; he had a dire need for nicotine.
Life was settling into normal, except for that nagging twitch in the back of his mind, he ignored it, and it persisted like a childish plea for attention. He knew that twist of senses, harking at him that one of his ‘cousins’ was nearby.
Finally he paused, glancing around, squinting his eyes in the darkness but his night vision was only a fraction of what it should have been.
The streetlight helped, yes, hard to miss the ghostly white creature lurking.
“I am too tired to do this right now, so if you plan to attack me? I wouldn’t advise it; I’m covered in fairy slime and Gaia knows what else and that’s bound to taste awful.” He motioned to the trail of smoke and the cigarette as well. “Plus, probably lung cancer too, also gross tasting I’d imagine.”
It didn’t take much more persuation before the guy was practically putty in her hands, backing off with a sheepishness that Katya wished she knew well in this town. Others, maybe, she had been in this situation more than a few times in her life, underestimated by people (usually men) with bigger egos than muscles and unbelieving that such a pretty girl could take them down. She took pride in proving them wrong.
Moving her weight to the other heel, she listened to his rather feeble attempts at apologies while still trying to save face with a brow raised, as if she actually cared what he had to say, all she knew was he was causing trouble in her one place of solace and that just wouldn’t do. Leading him to the door, she gave a sickly sweet smile as he and a few of his friends followed out of the bar. It was then that she turned back to the eyes she felt on her, while others had whispered or made themselves scarse, he had been watching with interest since the moment she had stood up.
“You gonna stare all night? At least buy me a drink for my efforts? Since you seemed to enjoy the show.” One hand on her hip Katya smirked, waiting a response while taking in what she could about him from appearences, like she had just proved to herself once more, one could never be too careful even just having a few drinks in peace.
"Not all night, eventually this place closes," he countered with an unconcerned lift of his hand to motion to the empty space near him since she had made the drink suggestion. "I suppose I could, since you basically informed me I was going to."
The humor was faint in tone but about the most he offered at the time, even that was a bit more unhindered than his norm but alcohol was not to be trusted. Damned stuff was doing its' best to make him a socially functional person.
"I'm too lazy to start any trouble right now, if that's what the look is for; that takes more effort than I'm going to attempt." Her scrutiny was expected, shrugged off and the conversation continued with barely a pause. "Besides, I never piss off people who look like they would stand on a chair to kick my ass if they were determined to."
It was a good policy for life overall; be mindful of the vicious ones if you didn't want to get bitten, so to speak. Nathan tipped his head towards the bartender in reply to her request and lifted his own drink to finish off the last of the amber liquid before the signal for another.
He was going to be feeling it in the morning, oh yes, like a trainwreck inside his skull. But part of the appeal was in the tempered misery earned afterwards. Or maybe that was just him, Nathan never claimed to be the most evenly hinged sort.
"Is it the general serial killer vibe? Yeah, sorry; that just seems to be unfortunate genetics." He passed the comment off with a yawn, alcohol clearly did nothing to tame his cynical streak.
Vesper felt the other’s eyes on them but wasn’t particularly bothered by it. When you find yourself on the ground in a populated area at twilight, you expect to get some stares. A hundred years and some change was a decent amount of time to disregard the opinions of others. “Much appreciated,” they replied, taking some time to get the picture they wanted before standing. “It needs to be developed so there’s nothing to show for it yet,” they added with an apologetic smile and a shrug, assuming that was what the other had been watching for so closely.
The answer was, at best, a secondary concern; a byproduct of the moment and not the moment itself. Nathan's curiosity settled more in the area of intention, of what sort of things anyone would find even remotely interesting in the near area. Unless he was missing something, which could have been the case. It was a nagging feeling strong enough to unsettle his own silence, spurred a few words.
"Is there anything that interesting around here?" It was debatable, in his opinion, but obviously he was extending the idea beyond that singular scope and letting that damned want for distraction get the best of him, again. Sometimes it managed to override certain other traits, like common sense, but was’t the old saying about impending doom directed at felines rather than wolves? So he had nothing to worry about.
The Saturday shift was her favorite, not just because it meant she could stay in bed till at least noon the next day with a good excuse, but because of the energy the club held. Most were there to have fun, rather than just drink themselves into a stupor, others came just to dance and flirt, if she was honest Katya would have been the latter if not for her much more interesting job.
Being a bouncer had never been her intention nor something she ever thought of when she had started out bartending, but eventually the same terrible pick up lines over watered down whiskey they thought made them look a little more badass had got monotonous and she had almost started a brawl just to keep herself from falling asleep. But here she was, the tight leather pants and chunky boots certainly gave off the badass bouncer vibe, but the 5 inch heel on the boots and the lace top only brought the reality that she was tiny back into the equation. It was not the job anyone would have expected of her, her whole life she had been the smallest, in training where others had armor that made them look powerful and breathtaking, Katya always found it loose and unflattering. It wasn’t until she made it to where she was now, the Queens guard, that she had finally found custom armor that truly made her look like the force that she was. Now, however, in the Hollow and the mundane world, she found a style that combined both and always seemed to leave people shocked when she wasn’t weak.
“Apparently tonight is gonna be one of those nights.” She thought to herself, bringing her mind to the present as the man started to approach one of the bartenders, squaring up for a fight. Her smirk started to grow, this was where things got interesting, stepping up and tapping on his shoulder, before his fist could hit the others face, or the wall behind him. “You probably don’t wanna do that.” The smirk grew as he turned, sized up to her then went to laugh, his hand moving to push her away and just as fast as they had left his shoulder, her delicate hands turned deadly. “I said you don’t. want. to do. that.” With each word she wrapped a finger round his wrist and twisted, watching his eyes go wide as he realized she wasn’t messing around. “Now, are you going to leave nicely? Or would you rather I call an ambulance to transport you instead?”
Interest perked more and more as he watched the exchange, just short of actually putting his own two cents in and adding to the swell of delightful tense anticipation but really that was, mostly, just the alcohol starting to hum in his blood and make the worst ideas sound like the best form of entertainment for the evening. As much as he was fairly indifferent to being in a fight himself Nathan had that little twinge in the back of his mind that certainly enjoyed watching other people hellbent on destruction when they probably deserved it.
Sometimes even if they didn't, depending on how unpleasant they were to be around. And the guy in question seemed like just a joy and a real shining addition to whatever species happened to have the misfortune of claiming him.
Hopefully not his own, Nathan inwardly mused with another lift of his drink, there were plenty enough wolves with egos bigger than their brains as it was.
She was of more interest anyway, tiny little thing standing on her own bravado like she ran the place. Maybe she did, Nathan never bothered to find out, but even if not he had to give her credit for holding her own.
The temptation to yell from the sidelines to punch the guy was almost too much and he squinted at his glass in disjointed effort at gauging how much he'd had to drink if that inner instigator was chirping. He stifled a laugh and returned to watching the show. Personally, he had a healthy wariness of shorter people, which was most people in his case, because they had the advantage of being closer to areas of the body that could put anybody on the ground with one sound kick or hit; he sure as hell wouldn't have tested the idea with the woman about to ruin the guy's night.
It was a rare thing, someone seemingly siding with Hezekiel. It damn near never happened. So of course, the witch took notice on such occasions. He threw a casual glance towards the voice, only for a second or two as he took them in. Interesting, he didn’t recognized the man . Though from where he sat in his chair eyes half glazed over in sleep. Hezekiel was surprised he was alert enough to take notices of much.
Lucky for his part, sat happily at Hezekiel’s feet. Seemingly unbothered by the altercations as he continued to gnaw on the bone he’d been gifted as part of his breakfast. Leave it to the damn dog to be a half willing participant in a conversation about him.
Clearly his throat, yellow eyes returned towards the asshole who started this whole thing. “He’s right, it won’t end well for you. And i happen to like this cafe kindly piss off.” The whites of his eyes darkening a little as he allowed his powers to flare up a bit. Just enough, to cause the man and company to quickly skitter to their feet and head off to wherever they came from. Let out a low groan more out of annoyance than anything, he shoveled another fork full of eggs into his mouth. Before casting a glance back towards the other, his eyes back to their normal hue. Wordlessly observing the other.
Side was a strong word, Nathan didn't tend to pick sides much anymore after seeing that blow up in his face far too many times. It was an idea reserved for when he was feeling a bit masochistic, or happened across someone marginally interesting enough to let screw him over at some latter point in life. Kept things exciting, yes, playing a guessing game of what disaster would come roaming along next.
Mountain man looked a bit perplexed by the vote of confidence in his favor there, Nathan realized he had spoken out loud instead of to himself with that one and shrugged it off as too late to worry about it.
When it all ended in words and booming posturing he was mildly disappointed but oh well, that was how things often went. His brow did lift a bit at the electric spike like burned ozone in the air that marked a flex of magic, but even that was so commonplace in the Hollow he wasn't shocked. It did lend a bit more to the stranger's story, but information that could wait to process after coffee. So much coffee.
"It's rude to stare." Nathan quipped with a tone distinctly lacking any bite to the words, not fazed in the least when he became the target of that scrutiny. "I know, I do it excessively myself." To be fair, or at least truthful, he was more than a little guilty of that habit.
The being stared down was somewhat new, more amusing than off-putting, but his mood generally was more mellowed when he wasn't fully awake yet. "I'm guessing that happens a lot," he added in reference to how practiced the guy seemed to be when it came to chasing off annoyances.
Location: Nightshade
Closed starter for @dvlishfm
Some night coffee wasn't nearly as satisfying as alcohol. And who knew, honestly, if caffeine was supposedly so bad for dogs maybe it was equally bad for their cousins so he liked to think getting drunk was in fact healthier than his addiction to coffee shops. Skewed knowledge only counted if it didn't work in a person's favor, yes, and Nathan was perfectly fine with twisting the logistics to suit his needs if the moment presented itself.
It took far too much to get him actually drunk anymore in the first place, sitting in the nightclub half the evening wasn't nearly enough to even scratch the surface of a hangover the next day. If Nathan was going to earn one of those he never went into it half-hearted, he fully intended to be unconscious half the next day and miserable the rest of it. Self-damning indulgence being what it was, and being more interesting than spending his day off bored.
People watching was an added plus to the whole situation because clubs, bars, they were all about the same no matter where a person went; breeding ground of the most off-kilter and the same self-destructive lot as he feeling in the mood to join the ranks of that fair evening.
The lack of chaos had been disappointing, compared to the drinks that were decidedly not with how strong they ran, but as the hours pitched towards deeper night there was hope.
And then, ah, there it was; the rambling and posturing of a particularly sizable guy who, from the sound of the nearby altercation, was entirely wronged by the whole world and was eager to take it out on someone. Nathan tipped his head that direction, tapping his fingers against the bar top in a distinctly practiced pattern, old nervous tics, and watching the swaying, lumbering idiot proclaim his insistence on fighting whoever questioned him or his, evidently, exceptional drinking abilities.
Interest perked, Nathan watched like a jackal at the edge of a carcass, studying the scene with avid curiosity as to how the supposed 'lion' in question planned to attack whoever threatened his overinflated ego.
"Well, at least the night is getting more interesting," he mused to himself while vulturing from the bar.
They may be biased, but there isn’t anything quite like a skyscape immediately after sunset when the clouds are a dusty purple and stars are just beginning to peek through. That is why Vesper found themself crouched down, contorted into what would probably be a frightening sight for any passersby. At some point, you lose your shame though. A shadow passed over the cobbled road and stood stubbornly right in her shot. “Um,” they hesitated, repositioning to see if they could work around it before lowering their camera and glancing back at the other person. “Can you take like, three steps to the right? It’ll just be a second.”
It wasn't the oddity of the tangle of limbs the other was in, honestly not the most off skew sight Nathan had seen that week alone, but more so the fact that his plans to go ignored were effectively dashed when the unfortunate pause to check his phone had landed him directly in the way that made him reevaluate the wisdom of the idea of going out and being social. It was a much better plan in theory than in practice lately, still trying to get his feet under him in that place left him with a certain degree of stranger wariness.
Sort of like a dog circling trying to sleep and unable to stop rooting around long enough to get settled comfortably.
The comment wasn't shocking either, his height tended to put him in the way more often than not. Of people, doorframes, even the occasional low-hanging lamp or tree branch; the latter had happened more often than he cared to admit. There was a disadvantage in being the looming sort, it didn't make for a subtle presence.
That aside, he stepped away from the path and what he assumed to be away from the lens, mumbling a 'yeah' just loud enough to show acknowledgment before his eyes returned to the screen. At least for a moment, because the camera had caught his attention and curiosity had won out; he watched for a moment, entirely heedless of the fact that most people did not, in fact, care to observed that intently.
“ He’s only dangerous when provoked. Not to mention Lucky is well trained- same can’t be said about you.” All Hezekiel wanted was for he and Lucky to eat their breakfast in peace and then go about making their deliveries for the day. Okay so Lucky was a pretty big dog most American akita’s were; but he was harmless. Out of the pair of them Lucky was gentle affectionate and loyal to a fault. He should have known something like this would happen when he noticed the stranger eyeing him from their table. It escalated quickly after that, Lucky might be the more docile out of them both… Hezekiel was not. “ We’re just trying to have our breakfast , it’s in your best interest to allow this to happen. Friend.” He could feel the eyes of fellow patrons on them now but he could also feel his temper that he hid so well start to peek through.
It was strange, the sort of things that set the hair at the back of his neck to standing, uncomfortable, mostly unpredictable when a stray scent or sense playing havoc on his day to day pacing hooked into his nerves. Purposely ignored at first, the tensed voice and the exchange of words nearby; he had no desire to entertain anything other than the coffeecup gripped in both hands and the steam rising from as he sat in relative peace near the exchange. Trying to absorb the caffeine through sheer willpower breathing it in, not exactly possible but the determination was there.
It was the sound of motion that finally left Nathan mumbling under his breath and trailing sleep-foggy eyes towards the man. Hardly typical, that air of large, foreboding mountain main or whatever it was the guy was going for, but what passed for normal anymore?
He hardly intended to intervein, no, but watched it play out over the edge of the cup lifted as he took a drink because weren't most public altercations spectator sports? Oh yeah, this will end great for you," he pointed out with a yawn and a bare hint of amusement to his tone, words directed at the figure accosting the stranger and his bear of a dog.
At a glance he may look like BILL SKARSGARD but in reality they’re just 26 year old Nathan Myers, a werewolf here in Barton Hallow. They are an omega without a group. They work as a receptionist at Wentworth Memorial here in town and are known for being adaptive and indifferent. I’d watch my back if I were you..
First a few somewhat random little points, full bio and more linked above, but here’s some basic rambling to get this started.
Werewolf. Technically. Due to an amazingly unhealthy mix of distance from his original pack and the viciously abusive home life he suffered growing up, thrown in with a healthy fear of the sort of wolves that he knew pack to be; Nathan hasn’t fully reached his potential as a werewolf in spite of being in his late twenties. He hasn’t changed, hasn’t reached his full strength or scope of normal abilities, and he certainly hasn’t made any effort to fit himself into a new pack. He tends to live life as much like a human as possible, but it is a flawed effort given where he originally came from before being moved to CA (possible connection - people he knew back there) to live with his father.
His mother’s pack were unsettling by most any accounts, the sort of strange, bizarre monsters that the locals in their Appalachian home spoke of in whispers of ghosts and demons. Hardly the case, but the pack as a whole certainly had some arcane nature running in their blood and Nathan feels it within his own. All the more reason to be wary of what the moon can do, and what he may himself do if he were to reach that state. He’s mostly written it off as impossible, something within him too off centered, content with being stronger than humans, more aware, sharper sensed, rather than dare chase the moon too much. (Possible connection? Somebody who wants to stir up that change?)
As one would assume that, while unable to be sensed by most other werewolves (connection? Maybe someone can sense it?), that delay puts him at odds with them if they do find out. He’s hardly afraid to voice his opinions in regards to their often judgmental views, quick to point out that he doesn’t care what they think of him or his life (someone feel free to give him someone to clash on this?), but there is that feeling, still, of knowing that he doesn’t have a place with them anymore than he does with actual humans. It’s an uncomfortable spot, that feeling of being resistant to what one is and still feeling the lure of it so intensely.
Due to his inheritance Nathan really has no reason to work (hellooo other people working at Wentworth = connections), he could live very well his entire life and have nothing to worry about, but he likes having a reason to keep busy. And being a receptionist at the hospital isn’t exactly as interesting as things might have been if he’d finished his stint in school to become an RN, but it’s something to do. He also isn’t fond of people being aware of just how impressive his bank account is. He has a roommate (connection needs to be filled, yess), lives what he considers to be fairly typical for someone his age, although he gets it wrong sometimes after being raised in excess as his normality. His tastes run lavish but, usually, he doesn’t let it go too far in hinting at the money he doesn’t like for people to know about. (but if somebody does know? connection?) He’s lived the life of being important because of his status, he grew tired of it and the false people that came with it. Normality is surprisingly entertaining, all in all.
He has a cat, Frankie, (short for Frankenstein) who wanders the shared apartment. Said cat is the typical, pet me when I want and I’ll ignore that you exist the rest of the time, feline and is usually slinking around like a furry, splotchy shadow. Frankie is a Tortoiseshell tabby and Nathan claims he came with the apartment since he found the cat skirting around outside as a stray very shortly after moving in.
Perhaps a throwback to the linage of his pack, but Nathan has a morbid streak. He enjoys horror movies (100% needs somebody to drink and watch movies with) and binge watches them when left to his own devices, collects bones and skulls as artwork and pours over how lovely the macabre can be. Most of those habits he keeps to himself, he already gives off an eerie vibe almost naturally, but also likes to use that to unnerve people. His sense of humor can be dark at times, he really likes to joke that he knows he gives off that air of serial killer.
The flat dead stare also doesn’t help, because he has perfected it. Coupled with the fact that he’s intensely tall (6'4") most people are a bit intimidated by his presence. He finds it bemusing, even more so since a great deal of the time he’s not interested enough in bothering people to use that to his advantage. But when he does, yes, it works exceptionally well.
He has a surprisingly impressive working knowledge of the occult as well, thanks to his early years and the interest that came from trying to sort out his own hazy memories. (shared interest connection?) His room is scattered with books on various subjects and he holds some of the older superstitions true, even though he doesn’t admit it; something that seems ingrained in him through blood, perhaps, thanks to his mother’s influence.
Don’t try to debate morality with him, (or do because he really needs somebody to hang out and debate things with - connection?) Nathan is a firm believer that such concepts are entirely situational. There are no good or bad people, no evil or light ultimately, only people who twist the world as they see fit and the deeds they do. He likes that view, actually, because in the end it is the ultimate equality among everyone; when anyone is capable of any extreme what better common ground is there? Morality is also personal though, he knows, and those beliefs in how people see the world fascinate him.
In spite of seeming otherwise, his tendency to study people rather than interact with them, Nathan is very social. Getting him to warm up usually ends in sarcasm and offhand banter, but that’s just the sort of communication he considers friendly. He usually gives people a chance to prove if they’re total bastards or not before he makes his mind up. He prefers to roll his eyes and walk away from pointless confrontation, nothing irritates an instigator more than being ignored, but if he’s cornered he gets far less passive about the situation.
