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[Wednesday
October 3rd, 5:11pm] |
Limbs of wild bushes and low cut trees brushed against his body as the boy ran through the woods, the harsh slap of his shoes against the muddy grass below being the only thing he heard above his ragged breath. The sun, which was setting somewhere behind him, wouldn't be up for much longer, and he knew if he didn't get out of the thicket of trees in the next few minutes he wouldn't make it at all. The full moon was about to rise, and no good would come of being outside when that happened.
There had been another girl, a blonde, behind him at the start of this, but his sensitive hearing wasn't picking up the sound of another person hot on his tail any longer. She must've taken a different path. Though he had been anything but athletic in school, choosing instead to take it easy and slack, the fence that he just cleared like an Olympian track star was higher than any hurdle they made him jump in gym class. Landing wasn't a problem, and he continued to run without a moments hesitation. Already he could feel his body starting to change. Two doors separated him from the inside of the school building, having cut across the lawn to speed the trip up.
Once he was inside, he didn't remember much of how he got to them. He found the two girls in a classroom, and remembered fighting off the change for as long as possible to make sure the redhead was okay. Neither of them had control over their disease, and soon the beasts that were caged within human bodies escaped their flesh and bone prison. When he changed, Oz had no memory of what he did while in his lupine form, but for some reason this night was different. He remembered his teeth sinking into the flesh of the female's neck, remembered the copper taste against his tongue after his jaws closed and gave a vicious tug. Once he was sure Veruca wasn't getting up, the wolf turned it's attentions to Willow, crimson fluid still dripping from his snout. The blonde from earlier -- their friend Buffy Summers -- had managed to stop him before he committed two unspeakable acts that night, hitting him with a tranquilizer before he could harm the love of his life.
The young man woke with a start, shooting upright into a sitting position, the sheets slipping from his sweat soaked-bare chest. That dream...he hadn't had that dream in years. It should have been impossible for him to remember those nights, but that one was different. It was what had changed him as a person, made him pick up the few things he had in life and run. Staying around people had been so easy until then, the creature inside of him only reared it's ugly head three nights out of the month, and for the rest of the days he was like them. Normal. Everything changed that night.
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[Saturday
September 1st, 3:15am] |
"Got it covered," he casually replied over his shoulder from his position at the WARNING: IN CASE OF FIRE sign on the wall farthest away from the desk.
An extinguisher was heavy, points on that for weapon use. Other than the chemical spray to subdue flame, it didn't look to be suitable for the upcoming brutality. Unless, maybe, Phenex was allergic.
A fire ax. Now there was a great item that Avery could use, assuming he knew how to swing without taking his own head off. Points for the win. Breaking the glass was easy, and he hefted it in all its bright red glory out of the inset case-in-the-wall, moved for Avery, and offered it up. Token of friendship? Sure, why not?
If not, Oz'd be hard pressed not to use it himself.
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[Wednesday
December 13th, 5:41pm] |
As usual, Las Vegas was busy. People of all shapes and sizes wandering around oblivious to the fact that while they all look different, not everyone was human. Or fully human, as the case may be. With a wry sigh, Reverie counted herself as one of those and kept on walking.
The strip was brightly lit like always. The neon lights pulling people off the street like insects. So many of them overwhelmed by the shiny exterior of the City that they overlooked the darkness that lay just beneath the surface.
People tended to be blissfully ignorant. Devil knows Reverie was before the ordeal that happened to her. That ordeal that meant she was no longer fully human. Not that she often complained, it was in her nature to take things as positively as possible. Keep it all in her stride. A stride that was now guiding her through the crowds and mingling her with everyone else. Going no where in particular other than to just follow her feet.
Not far behind was the laconic guitar playing werewolf known to his friends as simply Oz, carrying with him a small notebook. Protruding from between the pages were sticky tabs, a variety of colors with different dates labeled on each of them, some of them crossed out or folded over. Useless.
The whole thing was confusing, and Oz wasn't sure if he was supposed to take the book as something real or not. It seemed too make-believe, even after all he'd been through in his life on the Hellmouth. Write someone's name down, picture them in your head, and they die? It was twisted, but he knew better than to ignore these things. Someone else would get their hands on the book, someone considerably less kindhearted, and major trouble could go down.
Which was why he was tailing Reverie, having been told if anyone would be able to help him, it'd be her. Able to hang back enough so as not to draw attention to himself, he was able to follow her on her scent alone now.
( The Death Note )
( The Plan )
| private; birthright |
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| A werewolf and a...Connor? |
[Sunday
December 10th, 9:51am] |
After finding a place to lay his head for at least a couple of days until all of the auditions he'd scheduled cleared up some, Oz figured it wouldn't hurt to make a run to get something to eat. He'd been living off of jerky and bottled water for the better part of a week, driving his trusty van across the desert from one place to another.
A friend of his from before he had left Sunnydale was the only person that was still in contact with the werewolf, and through him Oz was tracking down musicians near and far in order to find a group to play with. Among other things. The music scene was looking glum on the East Coast and it didn't seem to be picking up any the further west he drove. All in due time.
Pulling into the parking lot of the first place he saw, not even bothering to look at the name, Oz killed the engine and exited the van, heading for the entrance. A dark pair of aviator sunglasses made it possible for him to see without having to squint, and for a moment he paused at the Indian statue by the door. A nod was given to the inanimate object before he moved to pull open the door. "How."
( Socialization: Oz Style )
After Connor had gone, and once he polished off what little soda was still remaining, Oz rose from his seat at the counter and moved for the door. It was already growing dark outside, but that didn't stop him from slipping on his shades again, his gaze lingering on the setting sun even as he moved for the parking lot.
While counting off how many nights he had left until the full moon, an old habit that never seemed to fade, Oz slipped into his van and pulled out to try and find the motel he'd booked a room at earlier in the day. He'd pick up a newspaper tomorrow in order to search through the wanted ads and the obituaries.
| private; birthright. connor played by ![[info]](http://img.greatestjournal.com/userinfo.gif) first_born_son |
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[Wednesday
December 6th, 11:51am] |
"Next?" The voice of the older gentleman behind the desk picked up when he noticed that the young man in front of him seemed to be in some sort of a daze. They were in line at a bus station, and the heat was cranked up in the building high enough to start to wear on people's nerves. The blistering atmosphere, coupled with the long lines of holiday travel, left everyone inside a bit edgy, including the employees. "I said next?"
Without realizing he had been holding up the line, Oz stepped forward, broken from his daze and reaching for his wallet. "I was noticing that there aren't many buses headed for Sunnydale," he said, eyes remaining on the board hanging high above them with all the departure times. His gaze shifted when the man started laughing at him.
"We don't have any buses going into there anymore, kid. Where the hell have you been living?" How rude. People in line behind him, who had heard the request for a bus to that destination started talking amongst themselves, wondering what was wrong with the redhead enough to even ask that question.
"Apartment," Oz told him flatly, shooting a cold glance over his shoulder that silenced the growing number of voices to his rear. When he noticed that his dry sense of humor wasn't going to go over well, he tried to move the conversation along. For the normally quiet guitar-playing werewolf that was quite out of character, coming out forced on most occasions. "Clearly there's something I'm missing here..." Trailing off, he figured the desk clerk would be able to fill in the blanks.
"I'd suggest picking another vacation spot if I were you, or finding someone crazy enough to take you themselves. We don't offer any buses to there. Now, if you'd please?" A sweeping motion of his arm to the right meant that he wanted Oz to step to the side for the next customer. Lifting the dull, red colored backpack and slipping his arms through the straps, the young man left them there without pressing the issue any further. Figuring he'd get no help from a place that didn't even offer up a bus ride to his hometown, Oz moved back outside into the cold, zipping his hoody and wondering if he could find a piece of cardboard and a Sharpie.
Right now, he was Sunnydale or bust.
| private; one broken charm |
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