Adrian Flores Quentin Herrera ⚜ Werewolf ⚜ 26 ⚜ The Sentinel ⚜ ISTP
When I am silent …
He’s staring down the barrel of a gun, pupils dilated in disbelief. It’s not the first time he’s had a gun pointed at him, but it is the first where the intent is to kill.
- “You’re a loose end, Adrian. You know we can’t allow that. Maybe if you’d opened your eyes, been a little smarter…”
- “I won’t talk!! I swear! I won’t tell them anythin’!!”
- “So they all say. I’m sorry, Adrian.” There’s a click as the safety latch is flipped off the trigger, and in that moment, his adrenaline kicks into overdrive - But rather than fear, he feels rage. Not at their callousness - that’s part and parcel with the job description - but at their greed. Hasn’t he given them enough? Repaid his father’s debts twice over, run competition out of business, extended the trade’s reach like tentacles throughout the city? He doesn’t sleep, he barely eats, he doesn’t dream, his good arm is broken in three places from ‘old lessons learned’ (because ‘don’t shoot the messenger’ is a lie they tell you when you’re young and dumb and still think you can quit)…
So when the gun goes off, anger is still coursing like a tidal wave through his system, blood pounding in his ears. Fear doesn’t come until later, when he’s on the run; fear comes with the realization that he’s killed a man. He doesn’t stop running for weeks, months - and though he changes his address and his name, he knows that death is a stain that cannot be washed off this new slate he’s grappling for. Which is why when every bone in his body breaks down one night only to be replaced by matted fur, claws and yellow eyes - Adrian figured he was paying for his godless crime. It wasn’t far from the truth; an explanation he only got months later when setting up camp in the Bayou of New Orleans.
{He was young; but he knew his own soul, it was precious to him, he guarded it as the eyelid guards the eye, and without the key of love he let no one into his soul.}
Werewolf… Because apparently his life wasn’t complicated enough. It’s yet another gory image to the dreams that have started up again as his insomnia gives way to a disturbed sleep. In his nightmares, he doesn’t know which is worse; when he pulls the trigger or when he doesn’t; blood paints his vision red either way and he wakes up drenched in cold sweat.
But Adrian - or rather Quentin, as he goes by these days - is trying to leave the past behind. If there’s one silver lining in this shitty story it’s the fact that neither the law nor the gang has caught up with him. At first he feared a trap; every street corner implied a surprise-attack, every siren’s wail was the police coming for him. But as the months crawled by, that tiny, deceptive flicker of hope lit up within him again. What if this really was his fresh start?… Maybe he could do it right this time. No drug-peddling, no mafia, and no blood money. He’s taken up a job as a bouncer for a local club,Ampersand, because it’s well aligned with the few talents he picked up while selling drugs; looking for signs of impending trouble, and muscling his way out of it. It’s not a job Quentin loves, but it pays the bills and even leaves a little bit left-over. It doesn’t amount to much once he’s finished paying for his mom’s antidepressants; but given that he has to stay away for her own safety, covering her medications seems to be the least he can do. Besides, if it wasn’t for the fact that the gang took her husband’s life and then reduced that of her son’s to shambles - she wouldn’t have needed them to begin with. But that’s one of the many thoughts he prefers to keep stashed away in a corner of his mind that he doesn’t mess with much. Because he’s gotta focus. Maybe one day he’ll manage to make something of himself and escape the shithole of a city that gave birth to him. Maybe then he’ll be able to get back in touch with his family and really get his mom the help she needs… It’s a dream that stands in stark contrast to the ones he sees at night, but he has to start somewhere, right?
… I have thunder inside of me.
Web of Connections
Lydia Martin: If escaping both the justice system and the criminal underworld was his first lucky strike, landing a job as Lydia Martin’s part-time bodyguard is certainly his second. It’s no thanks to the snarky redhead, of course, but instead to her mother, who insisted on upping security for the family while hosting public events. He doesn’t get why someone of Mrs. Martin’s status would insist on hiring ragtag no-namers like him instead of some quality muscle, but he isn’t about to question it. Besides, the job’s been easy enough so far, as long as he keeps his senses tuned to the world around him - while simultaneously pretending to be blind, deaf, and dumb where Lydia’s forked tongue and she-devil antics are concerned.
Jackson Kenner: ‘Trust’ isn’t a word Quentin throws around lightly; not after what he’s been through. But Jackson’s come closer to earning his than most. He’s answered all of his questions on being a werewolf; including the ones he never really voiced. And the man exudes a kind of raw honesty that’s hard to come by these days. He won’t admit it aloud, but the more time they spend together, the more he feels as though Jackson is the brother he never had. Quentin wants no part in a war - not after he’s waged one his entire life - but if push comes to shove he’d throw his lot in with Jackson. It’s the least he can do for the person who’s become his makeshift family in New Orleans.
Jenna Sommers: He first took note of the unassuming highschool teacher at the library, while getting frustrated over the paltry results of his research on lycanthropy. Miss Sommers was seated a few tables away, tutoring students in what he guessed was History. It wasn’t a topic that had interested him much in highschool; he’d barely scraped by with a C - much as most of his classes. But listening to the passion with which Miss Sommers explained the relevance of the Past, Quentin couldn’t help but wonder whether he’d been too quick to dismiss it. He’s run into Jenna a few times since then and even spoken to her once or twice. She is down-to-earth, and lacks the matronly air that had him avoiding teachers in his youth. He wants to ask her whether she’d ever be willing to tutor him, but he’s never summoned the courage to ask. Besides, what good would it do for a dumb kid like himself anyway?…
Isaac Lahey: Jackson was the one who first told him Isaac’s story; the witch ritual, the intention to sacrifice him for their own self-serving ends, the way the boy had killed the woman wielding the blade rather than lay his head down on the chopping block… There are just too many parallels between Isaac’s story and his own past in a gang. They’re both loners, by nature or by necessity; neither of them can afford the luxury of trust. Because of that - or maybe in spite of it - Quentin wants to help the skittish boy in the hopes of saving him many months of fear and the anxiety of having to shoulder the weight of his burden alone. But Isaac’s been persistently difficult to locate, let alone approach. Which is why when Quentin found out that he was relying on a witch for shelter and a roof over his head, he couldn’t understand it. What would ever compel him to trust a witch again after what he’d endured? Quentin suspects foul-play and intends to get to the bottom of it - even by sticking his nose into business that doesn’t concern him; a tendency he’s normally happy to avoid.
Katherine Pierce: Where stories of Isaac’s past have came to his attention, Quentin remains hopelessly in the dark where Katherine Pierce's infamy is concerned. The brunette has been trying to cozy-up to him on the nights where he’s working at the club - and she doesn’t seem inclined to take ‘no’ for an answer. He doesn’t know what the hell she sees in him; it isn’t as though bouncers reek of class or wear a uniform. Besides; with her sensual build, sly good looks and come-hither personality, he bets she could snap up just about any guy - or girl. He can’t exactly shake Katherine on the job, but the more he finds himself smirking in response to one of her tongue-in-cheek remarks, the less Quentin finds he wants to rebuff her. Little does he know what those dark, laughing eyes have in store for him…
Also mentioned in the following bios: Camden Lahey,
Plot Teasers:
Quentin’s tentative relief as he settles into his new life will be short-lived once his old debts catch up with him — from both sides of the law…
This lone wolf may soon discover that he isn’t so alone after-all, as familial ties reveal themselves in unexpected places…
On the soundtrack of his life: I’ll Be Good - Jaymes Young (x)
FC: Bob Morley
Quentin is an OC. | Follow