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kore_logs2013-05-21 02:11 pm
unsanguine) wrote in kore_logs2013-05-21 02:11 pm
Entry tags:
if i stay here, trouble will find me
WHO: Hal Yorke and yoooooou
WHAT: One very nervous, very cranky vampire just got here and I don't want to subject everyone to another intropost; pls be gentle. (Or don't. Or don't.)
WHEN: Day 73, eveningish
WHERE: In/around the woods, but probably not far enough in to encounter direwolves or tigers unless someone wants that, and lbr it would be pretty great.
NOTES: Warnings for excessive prissiness.
By his own declaration, Hal cannot live anywhere without central heating, carpets, and Radio 4. So why he has decided to begin the investigation of his new and less than voluntary surroundings in the woods would be anyone's guess, except--he can't do this alone. He's almost sure of it. Has to find someone or something familiar, something grounding before he tips over into the inevitable itch in his teeth, the jagged scraping edges revealed when his routines are flipped on their backs.
To all appearances he's just a pale young man in perhaps his mid-twenties, black jeans and short sleeved black shirt, more buttons done than necessary--in fact that's his general ambience, expression on down, he looks buttoned up, and obviously new.
Also obviously not an outdoorsy person at all, given the faint to ...less faint disgust that blotches his features when he's obliged to like, touch a tree or something else repellant and gross. If Tom is to be found anywhere in this Godforsaken wasteland (which to be fair, that tiny corner of South Wales also was, hence its suitability as a hiding place for Hal) it will be in the woods, he suspects. Retreat to what is normal, that's what most people would do. Hal would take refuge in normalcy too, were it to be had, but he doesn't think he can click his pen or spin the trusty domino in his pocket a single time further without going absolutely mad.
Every sound makes him jump; he is not sure whether that's nerves or hope, the latter of which is surely one of God's little jokes.
WHAT: One very nervous, very cranky vampire just got here and I don't want to subject everyone to another intropost; pls be gentle. (Or don't. Or don't.)
WHEN: Day 73, eveningish
WHERE: In/around the woods, but probably not far enough in to encounter direwolves or tigers unless someone wants that, and lbr it would be pretty great.
NOTES: Warnings for excessive prissiness.
By his own declaration, Hal cannot live anywhere without central heating, carpets, and Radio 4. So why he has decided to begin the investigation of his new and less than voluntary surroundings in the woods would be anyone's guess, except--he can't do this alone. He's almost sure of it. Has to find someone or something familiar, something grounding before he tips over into the inevitable itch in his teeth, the jagged scraping edges revealed when his routines are flipped on their backs.
To all appearances he's just a pale young man in perhaps his mid-twenties, black jeans and short sleeved black shirt, more buttons done than necessary--in fact that's his general ambience, expression on down, he looks buttoned up, and obviously new.
Also obviously not an outdoorsy person at all, given the faint to ...less faint disgust that blotches his features when he's obliged to like, touch a tree or something else repellant and gross. If Tom is to be found anywhere in this Godforsaken wasteland (which to be fair, that tiny corner of South Wales also was, hence its suitability as a hiding place for Hal) it will be in the woods, he suspects. Retreat to what is normal, that's what most people would do. Hal would take refuge in normalcy too, were it to be had, but he doesn't think he can click his pen or spin the trusty domino in his pocket a single time further without going absolutely mad.
Every sound makes him jump; he is not sure whether that's nerves or hope, the latter of which is surely one of God's little jokes.
no subject
His eyes flick briefly to where the rabbit scurried off; it should probably be given credit for spectacular evolutionary intelligence, given its proximity to two Big Damn Predators of varying degrees. "I'm looking for someone. I don't suppose you've seen a young man in an army jacket? You'd probably have only understood every third word he said, but he'd have been--kind, regardless."
no subject
"Have you listened to your little thing?" She nods her head towards his communicator. "Your friend might not be here at all. Some of us have been stuck here for a while."
no subject
He fiddles vaguely with one hand, attempting to come up with some veiledly polite way to say this, and then decides he really does not care to create any more delicate euphemisms. "He's a werewolf."
Go on, try to tell him he is insane! It would fit in with the way his night is going.
no subject
"And how would I know a werewolf from a regular person?" Playing dumb about this is just second nature at this point. She can smell something off about him, but that doesn't mean that he knows what she is, does it?
no subject
"I've no idea how you identify yourselves," he admits--he's never asked. How do they know? A different scent would seem the most obvious answer; that and subtle differences in movement and posture are what give werewolves away to vampires. "But it's been quite a long night already, and I can assure you I mean no harm. You might take pity on me and cut to the chase."
no subject
"Sorry. Most people can't tell what I am." She knows Gwydion can, which means the other angels probably can, too, but she's still not sure who all of them even are. Is this guy one?
She nods her head back towards the town. "Come on. I'll show you where we're all staying. It's not safe to go too far out in the woods."