burn this whole city down ., open

[Charleigh DeAngelo]

you belong to the gang
and you say you can't break away
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�� delicatamente scorrendo. No, no. fluttuando dolce� nessun che non � destra neanche. Oh d� in su!*� Charleigh�s lips turned into a horrid scowl, despite the reassuring coos from the falcon on her shoulder. Words have had a habit of escaping her as of late and with the constant agitation of another book going unfinished, Charleigh found her demeanor anything less than amiable. It wasn�t that she needed to finish this novel for pecunious reasons; rather she needed to finish this novel for her state of mind. This novel was to have a horribly fatal ending, that she knew for sure, and the events leading up to this fatality were lined out as clear as day within her mind, but she simply couldn�t grasp onto the details in between. They were tedious little things that Charleigh found to have little inspiration for. Generally speaking these events would flow together like a song, tickling the inside of her throat with a coy little smile as she wrote frivolously into her notebook. But not today. As her slate gray eyes gazed harshly against the deepening shoreline her lips curled into a frown. Supposedly sea air was said to help motivate the author�s mind, but all it was seeming to do for dear Charleigh was make her grow steadily insane with it�s rhythmic rocking and crashing of waves. Letting out a huff and letting her lips blow together, Charleigh searched aimlessly through her pockets, making no real effort to find something to occupy herself.

Upon her shoulder Pundin ruffled his feathers and cocked his head to the side. You�re honestly not thinking of smoking another cigarette today, are you Charleigh? I swear if you don�t die from lung cancer then I surely will. the hawk batted about motherly, though his tone was quite playful with Charleigh. But all that seemed to get in response was a roll of those harsh gray eyes. Of course she was going to smoke again. And she would continue doing so until her heart was content. It wasn�t a stress related thing, the smoking. No Charleigh had picked up that horrible little habit when she was twelve, sneaking her father�s cigars from their cases and smelling them all day long until she finally gained the courage to smoke one. A freight train couldn�t dream of smoking as much as Charleigh did, and it was because of this chain-smoking addiction that Charliegh coughed so very much and found that she wasn�t able to jog as far as she normally could. But that was no matter. Smoking had an instant gratification that she couldn�t get with anything else.

Suppose, maybe, her writers block could be attributed to her habits as of late. Not the smoking of course, because she has always been an avid smoker. But rather the fact that the once fleeting vagabond found herself keeping up a steady apartment, playing house instead of ordering take out, and more importantly living in one area for more than a week. It wasn�t like Charleigh to stay where she was. She was a mover, a shaker. She wanted to experience new things all the time and gain whatever knowledge she could and translate that into her novels. For prosperity�s sake! Of course, that all changed when she came about this small little town. Maybe it reminded her vaguely of Marsala, the small Sicilian town in which she was raised. Or maybe there were forces at work in the place that she would never quite know. Charleigh liked to keep with the fact that the locals had the most interesting gossip and stories that she had ever heard, and for their sake she would linger here longer and work on her novel in peace. This turned out to be a harder task than she thought. Ringing her lips together again she scowled and growled out a few choice cusses before throwing her pen into the shoreline ahead of her. How dare her brain give her pause when she had been nothing but kind to it, and now when she needed it the most it would defect! It was quite typical.

�You know,� she started, her Italian flowing beautifully from her lips as if she had never left her country. �I have half the mind to give this whole writing business up! It�s caused me nothing but trouble!� Of course this was a lie. Without her writing, Charleigh wouldn�t be who she was, and truly if she had let anyone get to know her they would miss her dearly. Letting her spare hand ruffle through her hair and her other pull out a pack of cigarettes, she could notice that Pundin was sighing to himself and trying to scoot as far from her as possible. Placing a cigarette in between her lips, Charleigh started to hum to herself before lighting the end. �Oh settle down Pundin! It�s just a cigarette!� she snorted noticing the falcon getting overly agitated. But turning to her side she soon found out why. For it wasn�t her smoking that had gotten her bird in a tizzy, but rather someone else.

�Bonjourno�� Charleigh�s voice was in monotone as her eyes stared blankly at the stranger. Talk about a horrible day ruined further.


* ... gently flowing. No, no. Fluttering sweetly ... no that is not right either. Oh I give up!

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but i'm here with my hands on my heart

status: finito!
lyrics: the decemberists - valencia
tagged: open.
word count: 873
outfit: her outfit.
end notes: it's pretty blah. sorry to anyone who wants to reply here.

[Alistair McIntyre]

What Alistair needed, really, was a change of scenery. It was one of those terribly kitsch sentences found in soppy novels at the end of the Victorian era, but it was true. Okay, so he wasn�t a housewife needing some rest in a far-off seaside resort, but his muse was definitely waning. The advance from his next novel wasn�t going to last forever, as he had often moaned to his best friend Auria, so he really needed to force some more words out. One of the most wise things that Ally had heard was to just keep writing. If he didn�t force himself, Ally wouldn�t want to write for days, making him even more annoyed at himself. Now, he knew that he had a specific minimum amount of words he had to write each day. Even if he threw out a week�s work, he was still writing, still going at it, remembering his dreams. Every so often, he had a piece in the local newspaper running, or a short story in an anthology. It wasn�t much, but it kept him going. Money was money, after all.

So, after some two hours of nagging, Kyra managed to force Ally to stick on his beige jacket and head out to the Bay. It was almost half an hour�s walk from his flat, but the day was quite decent. The fresh air energised him, whilst Kyra could spread her wings fully. Sometimes the Scotsman ended up ignoring his magpie daemon for hours when he worked, so it was good to actually spend some proper time with her.

�Okay, I admit it.�

�Admit what, exactly?�

�I needed this. Outdoors. Thanks.� Despite her charcoal beak, Ally could tell that his daemon was smirking. She loved to be right, and, muchly to Ally�s chagrin, she usually was. Taking a deep breath, the breeze ruffled through his already messy chocolate hair. The morning had been a disappointment as far as inspiration and creativity were concerned, but getting away from it all, Ally could afford to be positive. Just because today wasn�t shaping up the way that he had hoped, that didn�t mean that everything wouldn�t end up well. Plus, he was sure to have plans with Auria that evening, so that would help him relax even further.

On the way, Ally decided to at least pick up a sandwich or something to eat. His thin, practically lanky frame made it almost appear like he hardly ate, but that couldn�t be further from the truth. It was just the exercise that he ended up going through each month. Don�t think about it, Kyra warned telepathically. You�ll only start feeling low again. It was a fair warning. The full moon wasn�t too far away, so Ally would have to find a good spot to change away from everything. Nobody wanted an �accident� any less than he did. Adding to that the fact that his �blood type� was a secret, Ally had to be as careful as anyone could be. Prejudice wasn�t a good thing, especially when you were on the receiving end. He heard stories in the news and even through gossip and the internet about how werewolves were treated, so of course he didn�t want anyone to know. Only Auria and James were trusted with that little piece of information.

A baker, and Ally smiled, asking for his usual. Trying his best to be as �normal� as possible, he engaged the other man in conversation for as long as he could, even to the extent that other customers were left waiting behind him. Finally paying up after Kyra pecked his ear, Ally found that he was probably trying too hard. Back out onto the street, he reminded himself to wait a few days before going back. There were a few other places to go for snacks, and although that place was his favourite, he didn�t want to appear too dependant on the luxuries of someone else preparing dinner. People talked, and Ally didn�t want to hear anything that he was unprepared for.

So, after a brief foray grabbing a paper bag filled with chicken and bacon sandwiches, Ally found himself at the Bay. The sea air filled his lungs with a breath of salt, making the man sneeze as his daemon giggled at him. A playful scowl, and then the pair ended up meandering along the beach until he found someone talking angrily at a notebook in a foreign language. Ally wasn�t the best at deciphering things like that, unsure whether her tone with Spanish, Greek or Italian, so instead he opted for a slightly more open and friendly greeting. �Nice day, eh?� he grinned, glancing up at the sky as his soft Scottish accent purred. Kyra sat perched on his left shoulder, a wary eye kept on the larger bird accompanying the young woman. As soon as she said a brief �hello� � that had to be French or Italian, right? � Alistair launched right into a full-on conversation. �I know they said rain for later on, but it doesn�t seem likely now. Enjoying yourself?� He definitely needed a bit of company, so unless this note-taking woman appeared too uncomfortable, then Ally was going to enjoy it. Kyra would just have to get used to the idea, even though she was clearly telling her human side to stop showing himself up.

[Charleigh DeAngelo]

you belong to the gang
and you say you can't break away
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There wasn't any particular reason why Charleigh was not a people person, but one could only assume it came from prior teachings. Her brothers, though she adored them dearly, were never much of people persons themselves. They were often the types of blokes that would bully you for your comic book rather than share with you. Being their little sister, Charleigh had her own fair share of dealings with her brothers. God forbid she had any food on her plate when they were finished eating! So maybe that was the reason she took to people so horribly, because she saw her brother's do it. Oh maybe it was just the fact that Charleigh had very little tolerance for other people. She was impatient, she was critical, and moreover she hated little quirks that people had about them that others would never have even noticed. Like, for instance, if a person speaks and they smack their vowels with their tongue, Charleigh often has to fight the urge to punch them square in the jaw. It was these things that caused Charleigh to be rather insufferable in conversations. She'll point out little flaws in their character, she'll insult a persons mannerisms on a whim, and she'd even butt herself out of a conversation if the person's demeanor didn't tickle her fancy. So to say that Charleigh was hard to get along with would have been a vast understatement. Though, she still maintains that it isn't her fault in the least. That if she didn't notice these certain characteristics that no one would even bother to mention them! Then where would people be? They'd have horrible grammar and appear like a moron when in pleasant conversation.

But for some reason today Charleigh didn't seem to notice any of those mannerisms, or maybe it was just that she didn't care too. She hadn't slept in a good three days, so maybe her character was on the fritz this morning. But instead of grumbling about how untoward his greeting was, or murmuring about how silly his sentences were, she simply looked down at her cigarette pulling it from her lips and watching a thin trail of smoke slither from her lips. But really why her? Why did this happen to her? There could have been plenty of other people he could have talked to today, but the fact that he had to speak to her was something that irked Charleigh to her very core. It was then she felt Pundin ruffle his feathers again, a sheer sign that he didn't agree with what was going on inside of Charleigh's mind. Pundin had always been a social animal, he was always urging Charleigh to branch out of her social confines, and it was for that very reason that Charleigh and Pundin fell into many of their epically sized arguments. Letting out a grumble, Charleigh found that once again she gave in. Pundin was right, after all, this man hadn't done anything horrible (yet) and as far as she knew he was a perfectly decent man. So why shouldn't she at least be somewhat civil? "To be honest, I'd much rather rain to this weather." Charleigh mused, her voice seemed to be void of an Italian accent, despite the fluent Italian she had been speaking earlier. A bone she had to pick with her parents for sending her to English private schools. "Enjoying myself?" she questioned, letting off a soft laugh. "No, not quite. But then one generally doesn't enjoy a writer's block do they?" she jested.

Alright so this conversation was rearing towards the awkward. But it really wasn't Charleigh's fault she was so socially inept! She had had little experience with being actually pleasant with people and getting herself involved in small talk that she found she wasn't very good at it. Usually Charleigh found herself neck deep in a bottle of whiskey, and words flowing from her lips like the amber liquid in her glass. Charleigh was always a far better conversationalist when drunk than when she was sober, that was for sure. Taking another long drag of her cigarette, Charleigh sighed only slightly. "How about you? Are you enjoying your day?" she questioned, turning her eyes for really the first time towards the man that had approached her. He was a pretty lanky man, but not at all unappealing to her eye, not that that mattered any. Charleigh was never the type to swoon over an attractive man, or any man for that matter. She wasn't at all for courting and chivalrous conduct. The whole idea of dating was even a disgusting concept to Charleigh. But then, suppose one had to experience these things to really have an opinion on whether or not she liked them. Adjusting herself on either of her feet, again Charleigh found a light laugh on her lips. "To be completely honest, I'm not very good at this whole, small talk, business."

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
but i'm here with my hands on my heart

status: finito!
lyrics: the decemberists - valencia
tagged: alistair.
word count: 823
outfit: her outfit.
end notes: ack, yeah this is worst than the first. i'm horrible today.

[Alistair McIntyre]

At first, Ally thought that the woman was just going to completely blank him. Her daemon�s feathers ruffled in what could easily have been annoyance, and he was almost ready to back off before she started talking. Despite the foreign language that he had just heard, though, he was more than surprised to hear the lack of any accent. He was hopeless with languages, though, and she may have just been talking to herself in anything but English for a number of reasons. Granted, Ally couldn�t think of any logical reasons right off the bat� but there was surely some logic behind it. Not that it was really any of his business, anyway. He had offended people by saying less to them, so the Scotsman had learned his lesson. Unless she volunteered that kind of information, then he would say nothing, pretend he hadn�t noticed. That was much, much easier.

Her words weren�t very encouraging, though. In fact, they were utterly contrary to his sentiment. Some people were just like that, claiming to want the opposite just to be on their own. She didn�t seem overly happy at being disturbed. Well, maybe �disturbed� was too strong a word, considering her frustration at a page in front of her. �Bothered,� perhaps. Ally could live with �bothered�. Still, she opened up a little more, telling him that she had writer�s block. Maybe it was something in the air, considering he had exactly the same problem. Humming in thoughtful agreement, the woman then politely asked about his own day so far.

Clearing his throat, Ally glanced at Kyra before returning his gaze to the lithe figure. �Small talk? Nah, this isn�t small talk. If we were at a party and forced to chat about something to keep everyone else happy, or at a speed-dating thing, then that would be small talk. This� well, this is just a friendly conversation.� Winking to try and make her feel better, Ally stuffed his hands into his pockets as he gazed out to sea for a moment. �Actually, I�m in the same boat you are. Writer�s block. Been about a week without writing something that needs to be written.�

Ally sighed, annoyed again at his own lack of muse. �If you�re a writer, you know how it is. I�ve gotten everything all mapped out, right to the tiny details, but it�s not coming together on paper. I�ve managed to avoid phone calls from my agent this morning, and now I�m out here, trying to forget that everything isn�t going to plan.� Just like always, Ally managed to start throwing himself deeply into conversation. He was a little nervous talking to a complete stranger, hoping that he made a decent impression, so he just kept talking and talking until nothing else came out. Or at least until he got a good answer from his new companion.

You�re rabbiting again, Kyra sniffed, gently flexing her small claws on the beige fabric of Ally�s coat. With every glance to the hawk that represented the stranger�s soul, she felt a little more uncomfortable. Alistair wasn�t the biggest fan of smoke either, but that was probably just down to his �condition,� making his sense of smell much more sensitive. Other werewolves happily smoked, but Ally just felt nauseas when forced to breathe in too much in a short space of time. Here, at least, he was outside, so the smoke didn�t affect him. It wasn�t like he was about to complain, either. He was too worried that someone would find his behaviour suspicious. Who else complained that much about cigarettes? His father smoked and Ally was never bothered about it as a kid, so it seemed silly to start worrying now. Instead, he learned to breathe much more carefully, taking in as little smoke as possible. Just as long as no one else noticed, he would be fine.

�I�m Ally, by the way. I�m sure I�ve seen you around town before, but� ah, well, I could be mistaken.� Berryn Falls wasn�t exactly the bustling city metropolis, so most people at least knew everyone else by sight, if not by name or reputation. The town was small enough to want to understand everyone else�s lives, but big enough to not know anything for sure. It was the perfect blend of anonymity and homeliness, something that Alistair had been looking for after he had been bitten. Berryn Falls was a fresh start and he revelled in it.

Deciding that the woman wasn�t going to bite his head off, Ally then relaxed a few feet away, sitting down comfortably. Knees bent, he clasped his hands in front of his legs, stretching out only a little to relax fully. His shoulders cracked, air escaping between the joints, but he didn�t wince. It was fine, he was fine. The day was nice, he had some company that he wasn�t used to, and he had managed to escape from a frustrating day chained to the desk. What more could he reasonably ask for?