NIGHTSIDERS: Season One (IC / OPEN)

[Beiarusia]

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T H E M E
The Pub (P2TM RP Group)

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OOC

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Mina Harker
Sunset Grove Apartments, Bangor, Maine - October 1999

Beep-beep-beep.

Beep-beep-beep.

Beep-beep-beep.

A small hand blindly reached out from under the blankets, hitting the bedside table once, twice before coming down atop the alarm clock and silencing it, allowing for a few moments more of blissful silence. Begrudgingly, the sleeping form stirred, sitting upright with dark coloured hair messy from sleep. She looked over to the clock and could just make out the numbers: 10:00 a.m.

Mina Harker yawned as she stretched her arms high over her head. Kicking the covers off herself, she slipped down from the Queen-sized bed and carefully made her way across the room, feet bare against the thin carpet, stepping over clothes and an empty bag of Lays potato chips and avoiding the small patch of sunlight which filtered in through a gap in the venetian blinds. She did her business in the bathroom, brushed her teeth, and then returned to her bedroom to change from her pajamas (a tank-top and shorts) into something a bit more presentable, deciding on loose-fitting jeans and a navy sweater with too-long sleeves that covered her hands. Lastly came the square-rimmed glasses, the blurriness of morning beaten away with a sharp clarity. Mina yawned, again, and then looked herself over in the mirror standing next to the dresser. Small and looking like a fatigued child who'd stayed up past their bedtime — she had, having spent much of the night playing Half-Life — but "normal" otherwise. Not entirely enthusiastic. A valiant attempt was made to tidy her unkempt mess of hair but, ultimately, it proved a futile gesture so Mina left it as is.

Not bothering to lock her apartment behind her, Mina ambled down the unfashionably dated hallway and around the bend to the old elevator, ignored it, and then took the stairs as the elevator only worked some-of-the-time but mostly not-at-all. The lobby was similarly dated in its decor with a dusty chandelier, plain walls and uninspired tiled flooring, and velvet chairs of varying colors that would be right at home in a Disco parlor. The open room was also too bright for Mina's liking so she quickly ducked inside the lobby where it was pleasantly dark.

There came a small knock on the door a few minutes later and, soon after, the overhead lamp came to life with an irritating brightness as You entered the room, flipping the light switch to "ON" as she went, and bringing with her a plate of store-bought waffles. She greeted Mina and sat the food atop the hardwood desk. "I brought you breakfast," she said, her voice soft and friendly. A noticeable chill followed her into the room despite the heavy coat she wore.

Mina ate. "They're cold," she said matter-of-factly. You started to apologize but Mina assured her that it was okay, making a point to eat the waffles despite their unpleasantness. You wasn't the best of cooks, being the sort who was unable to boil water (quite literally), but she was kind and always brought Mina breakfast in the morning. The food wasn't top-notch, nowhere near it actually, being precooked or processed or boxed or canned, but Mina appreciated the effort despite her usual exasperation. Was better than eating junk food for breakfast nine-times-outta-ten. Mina thanked You and finished the waffles without complaint.

You, being the more dependable of those employed at Sunset Grove, informed Mina of what needed taken care of: rent was due, a washing machine required some repair, and a new tenant would be arriving today for move-in.

"Another vampire," You said, more-so to herself than to Mina, trace amounts of excitement plainly evident in her tone. As someone who greatly enjoyed supernatural fiction — favoring stories with vampires, oftentimes romantic — the timid and unassuming You had had a near aneurysm upon meeting Mina (an amusing story in itself), incessantly asking question after question after question, often mundane or inspired by what she'd read, and at one point had offered to be the vampire's servant (Mina turned down the offer but You insisted, hence her working at Sunset Grove). Now she personally knew three vampires plus a dhampir and another had already signed the lease.

Mina rested her head atop the desk wishing she'd slept in. Being productive, she asked when the new tenant would be arriving.

"He should be here soon," You answered.

"Actually, I have already arrived."

You jumped in alarm as the man appeared in the doorway behind her, the temperature of the room dropping several degrees in her mousy panic. The man was tall, smartly dressed, and although average in appearance carried a certain charm that was not easily dismissed. The man stepped into the office and bowed slightly. Sebastian Alucard, the new tenant. Vampire.

"It is good to see you again, Miss Grigorcea," he said.

The girl gave a dismissive hand gesture. "It's Mina."

Sebastian smiled. "I myself am a fan of Stoker's work. It is fitting."

Mina shrugged. She hadn't actually read the book nor had she seen the movie.

The man had already signed the lease so all that was left to do was to hand over the key, which You did after fishing it out from a filing cabinet, and Mina escorted the man to his apartment to 1) ensure that the key was correct and 2) to answer any last-minute questions the new tenant may have. Sebastian was pleasant enough, always had been, and knew to avoid encroaching on sensitive subjects (such as Mina's parents or the previous landlord). Smalltalk was friendly but one-sided. They eventually reached Apartment 301 and, unsurprisingly, the key fit the lock. Mina asked if there was anything else and then left the man to move-in in peace.

She was in the stairwell when she literally bumped into another tenant. A man slightly younger in appearance than Sebastian, and who smelled faintly of vodka. Room 204: Miroslaw Gorski. Human. He muttered an apology, his words thick with a Polish accent, and then continued on down the stairs to the lobby and beyond. Mina watched him until he was gone and then sauntered back to the lobby only to find that You had gone off somewhere.

Mina turned off the lights to the office and returned the room to comfortable darkness.

[Nuridia]

The blaring of the alarm clock on the nightstand echoed through the western Thebedroom of the old apartment with a loud, repetitive buzz followed by a siren like beep.

"Babe. Baaaaaaabe." Salem Stern turned over in the large bed she was in, poking her bedmate in the side with a long, sharp fingernail. She went for the side where the black band shirt had risen up to expose pale skin, the figure grunted and turned over but didn't stir. Pursing her lips, she went to grab at his shoulder, shaking it, which only resulted in said arm being thrown over already closed eyes.

Huffing, she propped herself up onto her elbow and glared at the sleeping figure, messy light blue hair loose and spread over the pillows. Her own auburn hair was falling in her face, which she had to keep reaching up and bat out of her eyes. "Wake up!" she hissed in a pointed ear, a whining groan with a hand moving to clasp over his ear but nothing more. She KNEW he heard her, vampires had ridiculously good hearing after all. Growling low in her throat, Salem moved out of bed and stretched, shaking her hair out of her face and yawning before striding over to the bedroom closet. Desperate times called for desperate measures. Turning over her shoulder she looked at the dozing figure again. Oh boy, she was never going to let him live this down. Judah was usually the one chiding her for being the last out of bed, but now he was doing the same thing. Hypocrite.

But he's my hypocrite. My frustrating, annoying, sweet, loving, and sexy hypocrite. Her eyes swept appraisingly over his form as she leaned back against the wall. He actually looks really cute like this, such a shame to wake him up...maybe I should crawl back in bed and let him sleep.

Then her eyes flickered up to the clock, 10:00 AM

Nah, screw that. He needs to get up.

Trudging over to the closet she pulled out a sparkling silver electric guitar and an amplifier, just one of the many instruments that she played. She plugged the guitar into the amp and then the amp into the wall. Oh joy, Harker is probably gonna kill me and all our neighbors are gonna hear us. Oh well, it's just one chord. It can't be too bad. Her husband could sleep through a hurricane, which is why she was resorting to this. Turning the amp up to max volume, she played one chord. Really loudly and purposefully really badly, so much so that the can of Coke on their other nightstand rattled. Judah immediately leapt up and sat up straight in bed, yellow-green eyes wide in surprise as he was struggling to maintain his composure. Feeling around for his glasses, he grabbed them and put them on, hair hanging in his face like a messy curtain and eyes wide like a deer in headlights.

"Good mooooorniiiing suuuuunshiiiiiine!" Salem sang at her now very much awake husband. And she legit sang it too, like the voice she would use for class or gigs.

"Salem!" Judah spluttered, looking at his wife just casually smiling at him like nothing happened as she went to go put her equipment away. "Are you mad?! You probably woke the entire apartment complex!" he shouted, semi-glaring at her. Vampires were NOT morning people. Well at least normal ones weren't. But when was Salem ever normal?
"I was merely doing my wifely duties and making sure YOU aren't late for work. I mean if our neighbors hate us then it's entirely your fault for refusing to wake up." she said as sweetly as ever.
Judah amusedly snorted at her, rubbing his eyes. "Good morning Red." He stepped out of bed, putting his arms around her and giving her a quick kiss.

"Aren't you forgetting someone, Jude?" she said, tapping his nose. Judah raised an eyebrow before recognition dawned in his eyes. "Oh! Well with how flawless your figure is now, it's easy to forget." He placed gentle hands around her hips, one hand going to her still mostly flat stomach. "Good morning, baby. You're gonna have the coolest mom and dad in the universe." he whispered somewhat in awe. Salem couldn't help but smile, her husband was still so fascinated by the tiny life growing inside her. Salem had to admit she was too, although she was nervous about being a mother she couldn't help but be happy. At times when she wasn't so sure, Judah's enthusiasm warmed her heart and made her more enthusiastic too. He kissed her on the cheek and went into the bathroom to get ready. Salem padded into the kitchen to make breakfast, she didn't have to be at work until later so she still had plenty of time to get herself ready.

[The Knockout Gun Gals]

Masumi Hashimoto/Clairvoyant, Apartment 207 (2BR)
09.00 AM

Better get out of the bed soon. Thankfully for her, today is her not-so-busy day. Not that there are lots of activities here in this small town. But, sometimes she dealt with excited young journalists or some students with bright eyes and excitements on those eyes, willing to know about some major hot-shot journalist and her experiences in the Big Apple. Well, truth to be told that is one of the perks that is not inherently annoying nor irritable, but not the best, that's for sure. As clear as a day, too. Verily, this is also the time for rent. Much appreciated on her paycheck, it's enough for rent.

Speaking of paycheck, she has to buy something to ride. Walking or busing from apartment to the job place is tiring, and never been really good for her. Perhaps a cheap motorcycle. Or hatchback, but something with AC. She took off from her bed, took a quick shower before walking to the small kitchen. Erika hasn't awake yet, perhaps for the best. As usual, she poured on hot water and tea, today is the black tea day. Black tea prepared, she poured on pancake dough, for hers. Erika should cooks her own breakfast, but drink is on her, as usual.

She took a bite on the pancake, ready and those tea. Noon, perhaps, would be the great time to go out and buy something. A ride, maybe. Or hey, one of those shiny new books.

[Sarejo]

Richard Graves
Bangor, Maine; October, 1999

Richard's eyes fluttered open as the first rays of the fall morning sun shone through the window next to his bed, bathing the small room in pale light. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, and rubbed the remnants of sleep out of his eyes as best he could. He stood up, immediately shocked by the cold air of the room, and threw on the robe that lay draped on the side of the couch that was only a few feet from his bed. He grabbed the remote and clicked the power button for the TV, and the old box began showing the Channel 7 morning news. He turned the volume down, the anchor droning on about whatever local news was occurring, all the while the ticking of the computer keyboard on what constituted Richard's desk created a background noise that Richard had long since ignored. The keyboard kept a running tally on an endless spreadsheet on the roughly 2 people to die every second around the world.

Richard went over the kitchen to make his morning pot of coffee, grinding the beans and filling the coffee pot with water from a sink whose pipes likely hadn't been checked in several years. "Whatever, it's not like it's going to kill me," he mumbled dryly, letting out a light chuckle at the stupid joke as he poured the water into the coffeemaker and filled a white filter with the ground beans, closed the lid, and pressed the start button. As the coffeemaker began to whir to life and make the one drink Richard enjoyed more than scotch, Richard strode over to his desk and began to scroll quickly through the names that had been added since he'd gone to sleep last night. Scrolling through the nearly one thousand names, he settled on 72 names in particular, who would make up his appointments for the day. The lucky 72 of each day who would get to meet the man responsible for ferrying them over to whatever afterlife they chose to believe in. The other hundreds or thousands that died throughout the day would be handled by a form of ethereal automated assistant, doing essentially the job he was doing, just more quickly, and more impersonal.

Richard had found long ago, back when humanity was just beginning to form and evolve, that they were undoubtedly the most interesting mortal beings he had ever encountered. Their ability to articulate their thoughts on dying were by far more intriguing than the dumb bacteria, organisms, and animals Richard had dealt with for millions of years. Therefore, Richard had set up a policy of "work day", in which he would see 72 dead humans a day, in a form of "therapy", if you would, helping them accept their fates, along with increasing his curious knowledge of the human psyche. Time wasn't an issue, as he was able to take their sessions out of the natural cycle of time, therefore being able to fit all of the appointments into one day, no matter their individual length. However, nearly two millions of humans in their primitive forms all the way up to their current form had desensitized Richard, along with breaking him. Their endless sob stories, their begging to return to life and their loved ones, it all now bounced off Richard's empathetic side like rain off sheet metal. However, if Richard hated anything, it was the indignant dead, who demanded that they be returned to life, or worse, saw him as a fraud and called him a cheap trickster. The first time this had happened, Richard became so angry that he had killed the man's whole family in front of him, simply touching them with his hand and their lifeless bodies fell to the ground, as their souls left their bodies and joined their indignant father and husband in death, an event that horrified the man, confused and scared the family, and angered Richard's sibling to no end. No one knew who Richard's sibling actually was, but many speculated he or she to be the creator of the universe, seeing as Richard was more or less the polar opposite of creation, and the vague statements and stories Richard had told about them seemed to confirm this. Richard hadn't done this since, but instead immediately dismissed the indignant ones without answers or closure on their fate or that of their families.

The beeping of the coffeemaker, signaling the completion of its task, recalled Richard from his thoughts, and he walked over and poured himself a mug of coffee, glancing at the bottle of scotch on the counter next to the pot, and steeled himself. "Damn it, I really need to quit," he said, referring to the crippling alcoholism that had accompanied the sadness of hearing all of his "client's" backstories. Sure, he was mostly desensitized and could keep his composure around the dead souls, and offer them the same distant empathy a therapist could, but in private he rarely made it more than an hour without a swig, or two, or ten. In fact, Richard's ability to feel human emotion, being an immortal being almost akin to a deity, confused him most of all. He could be happy, sad, angry, even jealous on occasion. Even once or twice in the course of human history, he had felt the most elusive and least understood of all human emotions: love. As cheesy as it sounds, even the literal being of death had felt the pangs of his non-existent heart, to a human, no less. The moral dilemma of it also disturbed Richard somewhat, seeing as all humans and nightsiders died at one time or another, as true immortality was impossible. Even those impossible of dying to the aging process would find a stake in the heart or a silver bullet between the eyes eventually. Regardless, Richard had enjoyed periods of true happiness, and twice he had fallen in love with a human woman and lived with her for several decades, taking special care to never touch her with his bare hands.

The thing that saddened Richard the most about these periods of time was not actually the inevitable death of his beau, but in fact the impossibility of them ever having children, seeing as his human form was more of a disguise than a real, functioning human body. He simply explained this to both of his brides at the time as being remnants of some injury when he was a child, and one time Richard and his second wife had been foster parents for a young boy in the 1870s for a few months until his paternal grandparents had come to reclaim him. His wife had died of leukemia not long after, and Richard had vowed to never fall in love again if he could help it, although in the back of his mind he knew that no one could help falling in love, in fact that was how it worked.

Funnily enough, Richard had never found the prospect of dating or marrying a nightsider, one who he could spent centuries or millennia with, rather than decades, as interesting as being with a human. The recklessness of a human existence, who knew they didn't have many years on this earth, and who therefore made the most of the time they had, fascinated and attracted Richard more than anything.

Shaking himself from his thoughts once again, Richard took himself and his quickly cooling coffee over to the couch, and decided to watch whatever new thing was occurring in the news that day, undoubtedly something Richard had seen himself at some time or another in his eternity of existence to date. He was so tired that he could barely pay attention to what the anchor was saying, and flipped the station a bit until he came across a replay of a Sea Dogs' game, and settled on it. Richard loved baseball, the leisure of the sport perfectly balanced with competitiveness in his opinion, more tame than other sports like basketball, football, soccer, or rugby. "Or whatever the Mesoamericans played," Richard snorted, reminiscing his old days living amongst the Mayans and Aztecs when he had bored himself of European, Asian, and African culture. Finally settled, Richard allowed himself to relax before his first appointment at 10:45, and he debated with himself if he wanted to go talk to any of the other residents or not before starting his appointments for the day, settling on a "wait and see" decision.

[Talchyon]

Brewer Middle School
Mr. Graham's room
Chet Jones (aka - science room model)

October 1. School had been in session for a month and a half or so. Students were getting into their routines. Teachers were too. And as for skeletons who were also science class models? Well, there really wasn't a routine. That's what Chet Jones had learned over the past few years ever since his only human friend, Mr. Kent Graham, the middle school science teacher who was a bit nuts, offered him this job. Quite the job too. Chet literally didn't have to do anything except just stand there. And have 7th graders try to pull his arms off, or model him so he would be doing dance moves, or making him do obscene gestures. It was annoying most of the time. Especially since as a skeleton who wasn't supposed to be alive, Chet had no way of responding. It was a test of wills everyday. And there were some days that made it extremely frustrating, to say the least.

Like the first day of school. That was always one of these kinds of days.

Chet had been at the school since 4 in the morning, as he typically did. Which was not a problem, since he literally couldn't sleep anyway. He spent his nights playing solitaire or watching mediocre tv reruns with headphones so as not to wake the neighbors. Or maybe it was so they wouldn't find out that he watched dumb shows, and make fun of him for it. Either way, it's what he did. As his agreement with Mr. Graham went, Chet had driven over in his 1994 Buick really early, before anyone else could come. Then, parking a few blocks away at a pre-set spot, Chet dismantled himself into a simple cardboard box in the back seat, one bone at a time. His hands and feet he leaved intact, just because it was time-consuming to take out every metacarpal. Once in the box, he waited for Kent to come, take the box to school to his room, and let Chet reassemble himself. That was a lot quicker. It was kind of instantaneous. Dismantling was always more time consuming than coming back together. Once Chet was reassembled, he shared a few pleasantries with his friend, and then assumed his position next to the brace that he pretended held him up. So far, it had worked. The school maintenance workers hadn't noticed, even if some questioned why Mr. Graham insisted on taking his skeleton model home in a box every night.

"Hey, Kent. How was the weekend?"

The semi-balding middle aged man who was fascinated with Chet said, "Fine. Just fine, Chet. Didn't go anywhere, really, but I feel relaxed. Ready for a new week."

Chet wanted to nod, but thought better of it lest someone peek in through the glass windows on the door. "Yeah. Me too. I guess. But it's about ready for the kids to come in."

And with that, the door opened and 7th graders piled into the room for 1st period. Mr. Graham talked to a few students while he waited for the bell to ring. Some of the more curious 7th graders came over. And it began. "Hey! Watch me do something cool to the skeleton! Hey, watch me do this to him!" They were moving his arms. Tugging on him. Moving his legs. Putting his fingers in their mouths. Spitting on him. Poking his eyes out. One girl came over. Oh great. It was the annoying one who had decided to call him 'Miss Tricia' since the first day of school, and who wouldn't call him by his real name. Another boy came over and put Chet's finger up his nose just to get a laugh from some of his other hoodlum friends. It. Wouldn't. Stop. And Chet had to take it. As much as he wanted to tell them that it wasn't nice to put your fingers in his eyes, or his fingers in their mouths or ears, he couldn't. That was just part of the job. That's what the requirements were for him to get his rent money, under the table and off the books, of course.

Finally, when the bell rang, Mr. Graham began the class, taking attendance, and having the students turn in their homework. During his first class lesson, today was on photosynthesis. It didn't involve Chet at all. Which made this one of his more boring days of just standing there. Fun.

Internally, Chet sighed. It was a test of effort to keep himself composed. Every day was like this. Some days were worse than others. But it was a living.

[Lunas Legion]

Erika Koskinen: Apartment 207: 9:37 AM

Today was.... What, a Friday? It had to be a Friday. No alarm meant Friday, since she had no work, no tutees and nowhere she was booked to perform at today, and even if she did that would be later on. Wriggling, she shifted her head out from under her covers so she could see the green lines of light on her alarm clock, the only light other than the lines where the blinds didn't quite reach the edges of the window.

9:37 AM. Damnit. Not quite early enough to justify continue lying in, not quite late enough to justify getting out of bed. She stretched. Ah well. Might as well get up now, she was awake after all. She rolled over, covers unraveling around her, before sitting up and stretching again, yawning. Right.

She stood up, eyes adjusted to the near-darkness, found her way over to the light switch next to the door to her room and flicked it. She darted over to the full body mirror and gave herself a once-over. Nope, still in the same form. She hadn't changed. Thank God for that. She'd only changed in her sleep once, but trying to spot people out of a hotel window who fit the clothes she had was not a pleasant experience. Right, clothes. Blue skirt, white T-Shirt, baggy white hoodie, socks. That'd do for today. Wasn't like she was doing much, if anything today.

She sauntered out of her room into the kitchen in search of cereal and doughnuts, if she had any left.

[Segral]

Les Claybeach/ Apartment 206/Woken Up Abruptly

Les was drowning in happy dreams, comfortable as one could be under the covers, when there was a massive wave of noise that sounded faintly like an electric guitar. Les yelped and practically jumped out of his bed. He fell over the side, bumping his head ever so painfully on the floor. After screaming several swear words in a row, he grumbled and got out of bed, pulling his glasses on. He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, and blearily looked at the alarm. 10:00! It was 30 minutes before wake-up time! Ah well. He padded out in his pyjamas, bed unmade, and kicked his way through his door and into the kitchen, facing Salem, who was busy with breakfast. "Sae!" he said exasperated, "I need my damn sleep! How'm I supposed to get that when you're making my ears bleed?" Screw vampires. Why'd he choose Apartment 206?

[Nuridia]

Les Claybeach/ Apartment 206/Woken Up Abruptly

Les was drowning in happy dreams, comfortable as one could be under the covers, when there was a massive wave of noise that sounded faintly like an electric guitar. Les yelped and practically jumped out of his bed. He fell over the side, bumping his head ever so painfully on the floor. After screaming several swear words in a row, he grumbled and got out of bed, pulling his glasses on. He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, and blearily looked at the alarm. 10:00! It was 30 minutes before wake-up time! Ah well. He padded out in his pyjamas, bed unmade, and kicked his way through his door and into the kitchen, facing Salem, who was busy with breakfast. "Sae!" he said exasperated, "I need my damn sleep! How'm I supposed to get that when you're making my ears bleed?" Screw vampires. Why'd he choose Apartment 206?

“Forgive me Les, but Jude wouldn’t wake up and I had to take action. So if you wanna be mad at somebody I suggest you take it up with him.” Salem said to her demon roommate calmly, continuing to cook. She WAS sorry about waking him but she’s really had no choice in the matter. “Want some breakfast while I’m standing here?” she asked when all of a sudden Judah walked in wearing his lab coat. “Great, you’re done.” She smiled, handed her husband a finished plate and he kissed her in thanks, sitting down at the table.

[Segral]

Les Claybeach/Apartment 206/Slightly Miffed

"Alright, fine. Might as well get some breakfast. Think I drunk a little too much last night. and could you not make out in front of me, thanks." He then slouched off into the bathroom to brush, and the padded out to make coffee. He loved coffee, not as much as vodka, but still all the same. He accepted a plate of food from Sae, and quietly ate. "So," he said. "What are you gonna do today. I'm probably just going to sit around and maybe greet the new tenant."

[Wheatley Laboratories]

Alpha Johnson
10:00 AM

Is this the real life?
Or is this just fantasy?
Caught in a landslide,
No escape from reality...

Alpha relaxed into the seat of the taxi, the sweet sound of Queen drifting over his ears. He had it playing quietly- Loud enough to hear, but quiet enough for the thumping of his two suitcases in the back to be audible. They contained everything he owned.
The werewolf didn't have much time for possesions, either living in a tent or a small apartment all the time meant he didn't have much space either.
He yawned, only recently got up. It was a shame he had to get up so early, well, he didn't have to have woken up at 9:38, but he had decided he couldn't be bothered to go back to sleep. So what else was there to do but go?

Alpha's destination? A little place called Sunset Grove. He had heard good things about it, such as it's cheapness and attitude towards people who... Weren't exactly human.
Currently jobless, Alpha had taken the decision to move to cheaper lodgings, where his money would last a bit longer. Giving a few more precious days to find somewhere to work.
He wasn't sure how many places would be looking for a photographer though... By the look of things, he might have to abandon the skill altogether and work as a labourer. Or something along those lines.
Perhaps he'll live rough for the rest of his life?
Despite his love of camping, the idea didn't really appeal to Alpha. He couldn't just leave society behind!

His thought process was interrupted by the driver, informing him that they were 10 minutes away from their destination. Alpha nodded in anknowledgement before pushing his thumb down on the chunky button marked with a square on his walkman.
The werewolf found himself feeling a rare sense of excitement at the prospect of a new home, new people, new adventures. He also feels nervous- how should he act? He's been around humans his whole life, the only non-humans he knew were his parents.
He wondered how people would react to him. Would they just brush him away as normal when they realised how depressed he actually was? Or would he actually make... *gasp*... friends?

[WhatsamattaU]

Achillea,
the Attic, Sunset Grove Apartments,
Bangor, Maine, the United States of America

Achillea awoke and stood, stretching his six inch body in preparation of the day ahead. Then he ran his fingers through his mostly blonde hair. Then his stomach made a tiny growl.
Maybe there would be some edible mushrooms somewhere near the apartment building?

The pixie's needs were few and he had the luxury being able to live inexpensively, for the most part. Achillea looked at his familiar, Pellicius Magnus, the big eleven year old Maine Coon Cat was dozing in a patch of light from one of the attic's dormitory style windows. He cost more to feed than Achillea. The only person in the attic with a lower cost of existence was the ghost-boy, Earnest.

Achillea and the boy communicated a couple of times through the Spirit Board, last night. The spell that made it easy for Earnest to move the planchette took an hour to cast and only lasted five minutes per casting. Pellicidius sometimes acted as a message-relayer, being able to perceive the ghost-boy, but he became unsettled after a small amount of time in that role....

At ten, that morning, a power-chord from one of those infernal electric guitars crashed through the walls, ceilings and floors of the apartment building. Pellicidius jumped up from his puddle of sunlight, startled and wondering who was attacking.

"Peace, my friend," said Achillea, "it's just the neighbors."

Achillea wondered how such things, like unexpected loud noises, affected Earnest.

[Arctica-Aleutia]

Achilleas awoke and stood, stretching his six inch body in preparation of the day ahead. Then he ran his fingers through his mostly blonde hair. Then his stomach made a tiny growl.
Maybe there would be some edible mushrooms somewhere near the apartment building?

The pixie's needs were few and he had the luxury being able to live inexpensively, for the most part. Achillea looked at his familiar, Pellicidius Magnus, the big eleven year old Maine Coin Cat was dozing in a patch of light from on of the attics dormitory style windows. He cost more to feed than Achillea. The only person in the attic with a lower cost of existence was the ghost-boy, Earnest.

Achilles and the boy communicated a couple of times through the Spirit Board, last night. The spell that made it easy for Earnest to move the planchette took an hour to cast and only lasted five minutes per casting. Pellicidius sometimes acted as a message-relayer, being able to perceive the ghost-boy, but he became unsettled after a small amount of time in that role....

At ten, that morning, a power-chord from one of those infernal electric guitars crashed through the walls, ceilings and floors of the apartment building. Pellicidius jumped up from his puddle of sunlight, startled and wondering who was attacking.

"Peace, my friend," said Achilleas, "it's just the neighbors."

Achilleas wondered how such things, like unexpected loud noises, affected Earnest.

The simple answer was 'quite a lot'. Earnest had been sleeping; he didn't need to, but every now and then it felt good to get some rest. Alive or dead, however, one does not simply sleep through a full-volume electric guitar sound test.

"Augh!" He jumped up from where he had been lying down - if you could lie down in midair, anyway - and looked around frightened for a moment. He quickly realized where he was, and calmly sat down on an old couch that had probably been in the attic for decades.

"Sorry. I'm a light sleeper..."

This statement was mostly meant for the cat, who could see and hear Earnest, and was already skittish enough around him when he wasn't screaming.

The pixie seemed to have been up a little while, but the cat was a mess, clearly having been jolted awake by either Earnest or the guitar.

In most cases, a friendly good morning would be called for, but in this situation, where Earnest was intangible to one roommate and terrifying to the other, mornings typically began silently, with Earnest slipping through the floor into the hallway to see what was going on. Today, though, he decided to stay upstairs a while. Maybe if Magnus calmed down he'd be a little more sociable, for a change.

[The Knockout Gun Gals]

Erika Koskinen: Apartment 207: 9:37 AM

Today was.... What, a Friday? It had to be a Friday. No alarm meant Friday, since she had no work, no tutees and nowhere she was booked to perform at today, and even if she did that would be later on. Wriggling, she shifted her head out from under her covers so she could see the green lines of light on her alarm clock, the only light other than the lines where the blinds didn't quite reach the edges of the window.

9:37 AM. Damnit. Not quite early enough to justify continue lying in, not quite late enough to justify getting out of bed. She stretched. Ah well. Might as well get up now, she was awake after all. She rolled over, covers unraveling around her, before sitting up and stretching again, yawning. Right.

She stood up, eyes adjusted to the near-darkness, found her way over to the light switch next to the door to her room and flicked it. She darted over to the full body mirror and gave herself a once-over. Nope, still in the same form. She hadn't changed. Thank God for that. She'd only changed in her sleep once, but trying to spot people out of a hotel window who fit the clothes she had was not a pleasant experience. Right, clothes. Blue skirt, white T-Shirt, baggy white hoodie, socks. That'd do for today. Wasn't like she was doing much, if anything today.

She sauntered out of her room into the kitchen in search of cereal and doughnuts, if she had any left.

Masumi Hashimoto/Clairvoyant, Apartment 207 (2BR)
09.37 AM

Masumi cleaned the plates of her pancakes as she moved on to her daily life. Her clairvoyance didn't do much in the honor of day-to-day life, but at least it's passively useful when you need to know the needs of others. Masumi looked at her schedule for today, being a small town the news company doesn't do much, but they have the routine day-to-day news. Frankly, they'd better get a better tech just to send these papers to them back and forth without the need of physically there.

Masumi looked to her behind, as Erika went out from her room. Nice lady, though something about her seems out of place. She's a musician, shouldn't she be at somewhere bigger than this small corner of the map? "Morning," as Masumi called her on the morning calling. "There's a black tea if you want to drink something. Already pour it out."

[Nuridia]

“You call THAT, making out? What sort of rock have you been under?" Salem told her roommate and then answered Les' question. What we're doing? I’m going to work, he’s going to work. We might swing by the doctor’s, I think we have an appointment or was that for tomorrow?” Salem rambled off as she ate her own breakfast, turning to Jude.
"Tomorrow, babe. It was for tomorrow." Judah answered her.
"Oh, right. Well I already have my outfit picked out and I showered last night so it won't take me long to get ready at all. A quick in and out should be all that's required."

[Shadowwell]

Elliot Godfrey, Bigfoot
Apartment B04

Elliot, as most of the denizens of the apartment new him, was carefully tapping away at a keyboard, hunched over a desk that would seem massive if anyone else but he was sitting there. Though it was relatively early in the day, Elliot yawned, he had been up much of the night, checking and rechecking the format and such of the novel. This one, like many of his others had to do with individuals put into situations where they were on the run from something and had to survive. This one had more supernatural elements than his other novels though, while in the others such things were hinted at, they took a more central role in his most recent novel.

As he finished up with the manuscript he readied it to be sent to his Publisher, who like him, was a member of the MWPA. That was short for a group called the Maine Writers & Publishers Alliance. They formed in 1975, to enrich the literary life of Maine. He had been with them a while, not since their founding however, but almost as long. When he had released his first novel, they contacted him, as they liked the aspects of it that helped make the reader aware of real life solutions if they got stranded, despite the 'fictitious' nature of the novels. They ensured that his novels did relatively well, though they have been pestering him to not be so reclusive as of late.

[Jarnheim]

Bjorn Eriksson
Apartment 302, Bangor, Maine, First Day

Last night left Bjorn exhausted. He had just moved into his new apartment after finding a job as a bouncer at a nearby club. It wasn't the job that was hard, though. He had been security before a couple times, and he definitely had the looks for the job, but the process of moving into his new home was physically and mentally exhausting. He hadn't even moved all his stuff in, and there were boxes everywhere. He had so far just napped on his big couch overnight, though as big as it was, it left his long legs dangling from off the arm of the furniture piece and most of his head also was left without comfort. As such, his neck was awfully sore at the moment. His little Jetta would never be able to carry everything in only a couple trips, so his dad brought along his old truck to help. Hi dad, Erik, was staying at the Quality Inn not too far away, which was a fairly inexpensive place. Perfect for his father, really. Erik was a cheap old man, but Bjorn could understand that. Everything else that Bjorn owned was in a small trailer stationed next to his dad's truck in the Quality Inn parking lot. Most of it was just armor and decorative swords and stuff that he used for HEMA. The events were extremely new to the U.S., but Bjorn knew about it from friends in different countries he would sometimes visit, where HEMA events had been around for a few years already. It was really fun, and since Bjorn was a complete nerd about knights and vikings and the such, he had been fairly passionate about it. He was even somewhat well known among the community for his immense power and use of very thick armor and huge weapons (name a bearing sword that he owned that was based off of the sword used by Pier Gerlofs Donia). Sometimes Bjorn thought that he was born in the wrong era. Many times he often wondered what it would have been like had been born during medieval times. Of course, this sort of thought was often broken by the remembrance of things such as the plague or the inquisition.

Bjorn had awoken naturally, as one does. He wouldn't be working for a couple days until everything was sorted out on the management level. Drowsy and still tired, he rolled himself off of his couch, and stood up, before shuffling on over to the mini-fridge he had brought with him. He took out a jug of milk, and after taking off the cap, guzzled nearly half of it down. Wiping his mouth off, he screwed the cap back on, and put the milk back in the mini-fridge. Time for some breakfast, he thought to himself. He pulled out one of the many cartons of eggs from the little fridge and closed it before taking the eggs to the kitchen area of the apartment. It was an alright place, though a little small. He set the eggs down onto the counter before digging into one of the kitchen cabinets for a cast-iron pan. After a few moments of preparing the stove and the pan for some sunny-side up eggs with some butter to make sure the eggs didn't stick to the pan, Bjorn cracked all twelve eggs into the decently sized frying pan, and waited until they were cooked. Taking a plate from another cabinet, he put it onto the counter before taking the pan and sliding the cooked eggs onto the plate, and then placed the pan into the sink, using cool water to cool it off, steam soaring from the cast-iron. And so he ate. It didn't take long before he was finished.

After his meal, Bjorn went to the bathroom, did his business, and took a shower. He noted that he was nearly out of shampoo. He'd have to go grocery shopping pretty soon. In fact, he thought he'd go out right now. It would be a pretty busy day. Shopping, moving his stuff into his new apartment. He'd have to get a new bed, too, since his old one got put in a dump. A buy day indeed. After his shower, he went and put on a new outfit for the day. Just the usual tank top and shorts with sneakers. He'd hope it would be a fine day to relax and do his stuff so he could get situated. And so he went for his door, and went out into the halls of the apartment building.

[Lunas Legion]

Erika Koskinen: Apartment 207: 9:37 AM

"Thanks." Erika mumbled as she sat down before pouring herself a cup. She didn't like tea; couldn't stand the taste of the stuff, but right now she needed some caffeine in her system to wake her up. She gave the tea an experimental sip; too hot, so she poured herself some cereal and milk and began to eat breakfast.

She wasn't entirely sure what to make of her room-mate, one Masumi Hashimoto; apparently she'd been a journalist for some big news company or something at some point, and yet now she was out here in the middle of nowhere working for some minor local newspaper. That spoke of running from something but, well, she hadn't asked about her own past, so she'd return the favour. The less she had to talk about that the better.

[WhatsamattaU]

All Saints Catholic School, Bangor Maine

Later that autumn morning, Pellicius Magnus traversed the various gardens and hedges between the apartments of the Sunset Grove and the All Saints Catholic School, on Ohio Street. On his back, mostly concealed by the Maine Coon Cat’s prodigious fur coat rode the Pixie, Achillea.

There were actually two campuses to the school. The elementary school age children attended the campus near Saint Mary’s Church, on Ohio Street, while the middle school aged children attended the campus near Saint John’s on York Street and much closer to the Penobscot River. From the Sunset Grove, the trip was a between one and two miles away for either school.

Achillea preferred to visit the school for the younger children. Those children hadn’t yet become incredibly complicated with competitive sports programs or, God help them, puberty. Achillea made these visits to indulge his desire to do good works and engage in charity. Pellicius and he would skulk about in the bushes and spy on the youngsters to find out who could use whatever blessing Achillea could possibly bestow on a deserving child.

These gifts sometimes consisted of a charm, strategically placed to be found by his intended target. Sometimes the gift would be in the form of an encouraging dream…. But sometimes a child deserved what the humans called ‘tough love’, and while Achillea preferred the use of the carrot he knew that there were indeed times for a stick to be employed.

Now, the pair skulked in a bush, watching the school’s children at recess-play. As they watched, they noticed a taller dark-haired boy begin to accost a fair and red-headed girl about. Another boy, also fair and red-headed and about as tall as the girl, also noticed this and came to her defense by interposing his body between the first two children. Words Achillea could not quite hear were spoken by the girl and the taller boy tensed, balling his fists and shaking with rage.

Then the dark-haired boy shouted at her, “You promised!”
The girl shouted back at him, “My mother told me that your mother was a wicked witch, so I don’t have to!”

One of the schoolteachers now noticed the fracas and came to investigate.

Achillea and Pellicius maintained their camouflaged observation. This might bear further investigation a number of fronts. What had the dark-haired boy done that the girl should make a promise to him? What had she promised? Finally, was the boy’s mother truly a witch?

[Wheatley Laboratories]

Alpha Johnson
10:13AM

The taxi slowed to a stop and Alpha looked up, realising he was at the apartment building.
He thanked and paid the driver before climbing out of the car and collecting his bags, before gazing up at the building.
It looked almost dipladated but, hey, the looks weren't everything. The werewolf could see some of the curtains moving in the windows, people already awake.
Good, he wouldn't disturb anyone by arriving.
Alpha brought his camera to his right eye and took a few pictures, before letting it dangle from the cord around his neck. Then he walked inside.

Alpha gazed across the room, taking in it's apperance before walking up to the front desk.
"Hey." He said to whoever was manning the counter. "Are there any rooms avaidable?"

[Sarejo]

Richard Graves
Bangor, Maine; October, 1999

Richard decided that a bit of human interaction wouldn't necessarily be a bad thing this morning, and so he simply closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, his trademark suit and gloves were on, while his night clothes sat folded on the couch. He went into the bathroom and straightened his tie for effect and smoothed his hair out, although neither action was actually necessary. Satisfied with his look, he stepped out of his apartment and into the old hallway, not quite decrepit, but it had definitely seen better days. He decided that first of all, he might as well be a good tenant and pay his rent, as he had for the past... How many years had he been here, he thought to himself, then shrugged and carried on, the answer not being particularly important to him, as time meant nothing to a complete immortal.

A door opened farther down the hall, and Richard saw his neighbor, Bjorn, exiting his apartment. A simple human living amongst creatures that only the worst dreams mankind could come up with, he was either oblivious or didn't care, and quite frankly, neither did Richard. He ignored the man, closed his eyes again, and opened them to complete darkness, although he could see perfectly fine, and found himself standing directly behind his landlord, Mina Harker, who was sitting in her office chair behind her desk, and decided that he would have a bit of fun with the woman. "Heaven knows I need a bit more fun in my 'life'," he thought to himself, amused by the terrible pun. He leaned over, so that his mouth hovered right next to her ear, and as he had no need to breath, was able to perform this completely silently. He willed $450 onto her desk, and whispered into Mina's ear, "M'lady, here is this month's accommodation fees," and with that willed himself invisible, just to mess with her.

[New Grestin]

Bangor, Maine | October 1999

She lived for this time of year. The orange trees, the vile decorations, the costumes. There was something unmistakably like home about it all. Of course, there weren't any blood sacrifices, at least not any she knew of. There wasn't the annual consumption of the mentally weak, or the festival of the Black King. Instead, it was just a bunch of people in costumes eating candy. She had to admire that kind of simplicity. Simple creatures with simple needs, living simple lives and eventually dying simple deaths. And yet, here she was, a god among weak-

"Deck, some kid just puked all over the bathroom. Can you get it?"

Deckard broke from her musings, turning her attention to the manager in front of her. Scrawny, acne-ridden, the beginnings of a porn-star mustache. He thumbed towards a mop by the men's restroom, took an uncomfortably long drink from a slurpee cup and wandered off, leaving her to her work. The woman sighed, rising from behind the counter and slouching off towards the restroom, passing the aisles of brightly lit candy and chips. She snatched up the mop and shoved the door open. Vomit had pooled across the floor, dripping down from the sink, itself having been clogged with paper towels and overflowing with a mix of water and detritus. Deckard sighed, thanking the fact that she didn't have a gag reflex and started to work.

Trying to take her mind off her work, she thought back to how she'd even gotten here in the first place. It wasn't like she needed the money. She could've lived anywhere she wanted, but instead she was here, in some shithole town in Maine. No, no, she couldn't live in Salem, or D.C. She had to stay here, with all the other freaks. Deckard sighed, continuing to mop up the mess as a set of shadowy tendrils slithered out the back of her shirt and began working on unplugging the sink. As she worked, she caught a glimpse of herself in the cracked mirror.

Tired eyes, hair pulled back under a ratty baseball cap, stuffed into tacky bright orange uniform shirt. Christ, she thought, I look awful. She'd never quite settled on a look, changing everything from her skin tone to her weight to her eye color over the years. As fashions changed, it became prudent to change with them. She still missed the Victorian era, though. Something about the top hats and big dresses always had an appeal she couldn't quite place. She slapped the mop on to the stained, milky white tile and sighed.

It was going to be a long winter.

[Segral]

Les Claybeach/Bored as Shit

Les kind of half listened out of the corner of his ears as he finished breakfast and coffee and threw his plate and mug in the sink. "I'll probably run some laundry, wash the dishes, vacuum, stuff like that." He then poked his head in the fridge. "When's the last time any of us actually went grocery shopping?" Ah well. he would do that too. Today was not gonna be a calm day. He might as well bring Mina, the landlord some lunch, as she was turning pale with all the crap she was inhaling. "Well, you two lovebirds and your egg have fun, I'm going to go shower. He walked over to his tiny, cramped bedroom and slowly made the bed and got out some clothes, before tossing out the beer can that was still on his nightstand. His bedroom wasn't pretty, it needed paint, new lights, a carpet clean and actual space, but it was fine. He lived cheap anyways. He then strolled over into the bathroom and started his shower. With hot water running over him, he was taken back to a faraway, happy place.

[Beiarusia]

Mina Harker
Sunset Grove Apartments, Bangor, Maine - October 1999

Mina was bored (for lack of a better word) and had thoroughly considered going back upstairs to her apartment to play on her computer, or to nap, which also seemed a pleasant option, but someone had to man the little office on the off chance that something came up. Nothing usually did. The tenants were mostly self-sufficient, and if needed they would find Mina or You regardless of the office being open, closed, or whatever came in-between. Mina being awake and "working" was more-so a feeble attempt to feign productivity when she'd otherwise waste the day sleeping or playing games. Having nothing to do on-the-job was a better excuse than "I was lazy."

The girl was sitting behind the desk with the overhead lights turned off — the only light being that which came in through the open door and window overlooking the building's lobby — half-asleep, pondering on how best to pass the time when she noticed a slight movement from the corner of her eye. A flicker almost. Strange, like the apprehensive moment when the second-hand of a clock appears to linger for just a moment too long, or when there's a gap in the footage on a video cassette where the scene jumps incoherently before returning to normal. Turning to look Mina saw cash money sitting on the desktop when only moments earlier the spot had been barren. The cogs of her brain had only just begun turning when a voice whispered into her ear. "M'lady," it said, "here is this month's accommodation fees."

There was a loud and embarrassing yelp as Mina practically threw herself across the desk, hands raised high on the defensive and ready to lash out at whoever was behind her... but there was nobody there, or at least nobody that she could see, and being a vampire she could see well enough in the darkness. She lowered her arms slightly. Ghosts were the first thought to come to mind considering a couple inhabited the old building, but they had no need to pay rent and, furthermore, were largely incapable of interaction, much less having the capability to will cash money into existence from mere nothingness. Something a bit more demonic perhaps?

Mina crossed her arms across her chest and frowned in a way that wasn't at all frightening. "Come out now or I'm doubling your rent."

The room brightened to a disagreeable extent as the entranceway to the lobby swung open. With a small hiss Mina ducked back into the shadows and watched as a youngish man entered with an impressed-but-not-really expression on his face, the doors swinging shut behind him. He wasted no time in approaching the office.

"Hey, are there any rooms available?" he asked, not bothering with pleasantries or knocking or asking to speak to an adult.

Mina peered at the man with indifference. "Probably," she answered in a noncommittal sort of way. Mina hadn't grown much (likely due to her injury and whatever damage the silver had caused her) and she was often mistaken for either an undersized teenager or, worse, a child, and so despite being the landlord she couldn't be forthright when dealing with the stray humans that wandered inside from time-to-time lest she raise suspicion. Then again, maybe the man wasn't human after all. It was faint but Mina could smell him, the scent of dog, reminiscent to the wolves that had lived in Sunset Grove previously. The youngish man was a Nightsider or else worked in the animal shelter. "Four-fifty for a single bedroom but I think they're all taken. Six-hundred for a double. First month's rent is paid up-front."

[Talchyon]

Early out at Brewer Middle School
Chet the Skeleton

Work gave one time to think. Especially if one didn't have to do anything at all at work except stand exactly still and not react to little public school terrors in Levis. Today was a thinking day. Chet had time to reflect on pretty much anything since the science class lectures had nothing to do with human anatomy and bones.

Sometimes he daydreamed. Sometimes, his daydreams were so vivid that if he wasn't careful, he could get lost in them and start reacting. Like that time he had the daydream that he was on an ocean cruise liner doing ballroom dancing. It was as if the tango music was so real! But Chet had to restrain himself. He caught himself before too long. If he hadn't come to just then, well, there'd be a lot of scared 7th graders who would be imitating stampeding rhinos right about then trying to get away.

Today was a daydream about nothing in particular. But it served its purpose. Chet stirred himself just as the 7th graders were leaving early from school. That's right. There was some school dance or something that the class sponsors needed off so they could decorate the gym. Yawn. Chet's friend Mr. Graham wasn't a sponsor - partly because nobody trusted a man who thought a good middle school dance idea involved exploding (but harmless) chemicals and a heightened amount of static electricity. That meant he could get boxed up, taken back to his Buick, carefully drive the route he had carefully planned that drove only near tall trees, down back alleys, and out of public eyesight, and then, eventually get back home. Home sweet home at Sunset Grove. With all this free time in the afternoon, maybe Chet might stir himself to check out the genealogy books from the library and find out who exactly he was.

Little did he know what lay in store for that afternoon.

[Wheatley Laboratories]

Mina Harker
Sunset Grove Apartments, Bangor, Maine - October 1999

Mina was bored (for lack of a better word) and had thoroughly considered going back upstairs to her apartment to play on her computer, or to nap, which also seemed a pleasant option, but someone had to man the little office on the off chance that something came up. Nothing usually did. The tenants were mostly self-sufficient, and if needed they would find Mina or You regardless of the office being open, closed, or whatever came in-between. Mina being awake and "working" was more-so a feeble attempt to feign productivity when she'd otherwise waste the day sleeping or playing games. Having nothing to do on-the-job was a better excuse than "I was lazy."

The girl was sitting behind the desk with the overhead lights turned off — the only light being that which came in through the open door and window overlooking the building's lobby — half-asleep, pondering on how best to pass the time when she noticed a slight movement from the corner of her eye. A flicker almost. Strange, like the apprehensive moment when the second-hand of a clock appears to linger for just a moment too long, or when there's a gap in the footage on a video cassette where the scene jumps incoherently before returning to normal. Turning to look Mina saw cash money sitting on the desktop when only moments earlier the spot had been barren. The cogs of her brain had only just begun turning when a voice whispered into her ear. "M'lady," it said, "here is this month's accommodation fees."

There was a loud and embarrassing yelp as Mina practically threw herself across the desk, hands raised high on the defensive and ready to lash out at whoever was behind her... but there was nobody there, or at least nobody that she could see, and being a vampire she could see well enough in the darkness. She lowered her arms slightly. Ghosts were the first thought to come to mind considering a couple inhabited the old building, but they had no need to pay rent and, furthermore, were largely incapable of interaction, much less having the capability to will cash money into existence from mere nothingness. Something a bit more demonic perhaps?

Mina crossed her arms across her chest and frowned in a way that wasn't at all frightening. "Come out now or I'm doubling your rent."

The room brightened to a disagreeable extent as the entranceway to the lobby swung open. With a small hiss Mina ducked back into the shadows and watched as a youngish man entered with an impressed-but-not-really expression on his face, the doors swinging shut behind him. He wasted no time in approaching the office.

"Hey, are there any rooms available?" he asked, not bothering with pleasantries or knocking or asking to speak to an adult.

Mina peered at the man with indifference. "Probably," she answered in a noncommittal sort of way. Mina hadn't grown much (likely due to her injury and whatever damage the silver had caused her) and she was often mistaken for either an undersized teenager or, worse, a child, and so despite being the landlord she couldn't be forthright when dealing with the stray humans that wandered inside from time-to-time lest she raise suspicion. Then again, maybe the man wasn't human after all. It was faint but Mina could smell him, the scent of dog, reminiscent to the wolves that had lived in Sunset Grove previously. The youngish man was a Nightsider or else worked in the animal shelter. "Four-fifty for a single bedroom but I think they're all taken. Six-hundred for a double. First month's rent is paid up-front."

"Um, okay." Alpha replied. He wasn't bothered by the landlady's size (although it had thrown him when he first saw her), hey, there were smaller people in this world. Didn't make them any different from anyone else exept, of course, their inabillity to reach things up high.
She seemed nice enough so he inquired after her name as he knealt down beside one of his bags, intending to collect the 800 or so dollars inside, the majority of his bank balance.

This was when things got bad.

The werewolf stuck his hand in, expecting to feel paper, but all he could feel was the fabric making up the bag pocket. His forehead creased in confusion as he pushed his hand further in, finding the bottom of the pocket without touching even a cent.

Alpha forced himself to stay calm and check the other pockets. He could swear he had put the money in that pocket but, eh, it was an easy mistake to make.
Nothing in the second pocket. Or the third. Or the fourth.
Alpha swore in frustration. It's always the last one you check...
But there was also nothing.

His body went cold as he realised he had no money. Shock flashed across his face briefly and his breathing was suddenly far too loud and far too quick.
Where had it gone? It couldn't have been stolen, the bags had been inside the taxi the entire time... The taxi driver. When he had offered to take his bags.

Alpha groaned loudly and ran his fingers through his hair, trying to stay calm. Bad things happened when werewolves got mad.
He swore again, multiple times, before toppling over and laying on his back, absorbed by the soft carpet.