Alrighty, gotcha.
Asuu Member
STATUS: nostalgiaaa 10 yrs ago
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- Asuu 11 yrs ago
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10 yrs ago
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nostalgiaaa
10 yrs ago
Ayyy, Adventure Time Marathon.
10 yrs ago
I enjoy powder donuts.
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Poor people.
Edit: Who's the peeps covered in blood, again?
Edit: Who's the peeps covered in blood, again?
Dimitri stared down at the cooled water, his lips pulling into a small smirk of it's own at the 'Hey boy' from the girl across the bar. However, despite this, his mind was running a mile a second, the man easily returning his gaze to the drink down in front of him. Something didn't sit right with him...
Thomas must have had an accident, that much was evident, but he had only heard rumors of the wild pack miles away from Greyville, back in the mountains that he had just eradicated...so whom, and what, had the other man been hunting? A random wanderer that had gotten too feisty during the full moon light? An old werewolf that wanted one more bout before he keeled over and died? No...Thomas was too skilled for that; he wouldn't get injured by an old, waning beast. Not to mention that not a lot of people seemed surprise at the blood.
Gripping the cold cup with one calloused, gloved hand, Dimitri took a long sip, leaning back at the bar and stretching his arms above his head. His leather jacket was made from a pilfered Kevlar alloy, capable enough to stop a wolf's razor-sharp fangs and claws with minimal injury...not to mention he had an old family friend that tailored his clothing and weapons, for only a small amount of funding, which was easy with the wealth his father had managed to accumulate over time.
Right now, however, the jacket was making the already warm room a bit hot, so Dimitri took it off, rolling it up and resting it on the counter beside his drink. This showed the tears in his long-sleeved shirt, and a few splatters of wolf blood, but the blood had long since dried, and the scent was practically non-existant. Just to be safe, he rolled the sleeves up his forearms, revealing long, jagged scars along the skin.
Dimitri threw his jacket over his shoulder, and finally decided to stand. Walking over to Thomas and Yvette, the Russian Hunter smirked slightly larger, clasping Thomas on the shoulder that held the injured arm. "Ты полный отстой." He commented, his voice's accent becoming a Hell of a lot thicker due to him using his mother tongue. Dimitri sat down beside him, slapping Thomas lightly on the cheek to make him alert. "Go to the hospital." His voice was blunt and direct.
Thomas must have had an accident, that much was evident, but he had only heard rumors of the wild pack miles away from Greyville, back in the mountains that he had just eradicated...so whom, and what, had the other man been hunting? A random wanderer that had gotten too feisty during the full moon light? An old werewolf that wanted one more bout before he keeled over and died? No...Thomas was too skilled for that; he wouldn't get injured by an old, waning beast. Not to mention that not a lot of people seemed surprise at the blood.
Gripping the cold cup with one calloused, gloved hand, Dimitri took a long sip, leaning back at the bar and stretching his arms above his head. His leather jacket was made from a pilfered Kevlar alloy, capable enough to stop a wolf's razor-sharp fangs and claws with minimal injury...not to mention he had an old family friend that tailored his clothing and weapons, for only a small amount of funding, which was easy with the wealth his father had managed to accumulate over time.
Right now, however, the jacket was making the already warm room a bit hot, so Dimitri took it off, rolling it up and resting it on the counter beside his drink. This showed the tears in his long-sleeved shirt, and a few splatters of wolf blood, but the blood had long since dried, and the scent was practically non-existant. Just to be safe, he rolled the sleeves up his forearms, revealing long, jagged scars along the skin.
Dimitri threw his jacket over his shoulder, and finally decided to stand. Walking over to Thomas and Yvette, the Russian Hunter smirked slightly larger, clasping Thomas on the shoulder that held the injured arm. "Ты полный отстой." He commented, his voice's accent becoming a Hell of a lot thicker due to him using his mother tongue. Dimitri sat down beside him, slapping Thomas lightly on the cheek to make him alert. "Go to the hospital." His voice was blunt and direct.
But wouldn't that make us seem unhinged and unreliable?
Fayth is definitely an eccentric woman.
I'm in.
I like you. B)
Dimitri's just waitin' for some wolf to slip up.
Dimitri has arrived.
The forceful wind pushed back against his hair and face, sending the short, dirty blonde locks backwards, but his sunglasses kept the wind from affecting his vision, allowing Dimitri to see ahead of him without any problems. His face was taut into a tight smirk, the wind nearly searing his skin with pure heat, but Dimitri's tough skin was used to biting, sharp cold, and extremely hot, sweaty climates, so this wasn't bad.
Going 201 mph on his Suzuki Hayabusa, Dimitri loved this sort of adrenaline....everything moved by in a blur as he blazed a sparking, fiery trail down the mountain's long road, body spring-loaded and tense as he smoothly, sharply made a turn that sent him drifting on the curve, the back of his tire nearly touching the safety-gate that, if it hadn't been there, would probably have sent him flying off the mountain, into the forest below. Only the pure agilty and speed of his quick turning and his whip-smart brain allowed him to make the drift, and as the headlights of a nearby truck began shining in his direction, Dimitri steadily dropped his speed to a lower, but still dangerously fast, 94mph.
The sound of his phone vibrating forced the hunter to lower his speed even more. At this point, Greyville was evident in the distance, and soon enough, he'd be on a high-population street, so he wouldn't even be able to go full speed. Keeping one hand on the gas and steering wheel, he opened up the text, reading it quickly. A smirk formed on his face. Yvette...a bar, hm? Probably the one that often times had an annoying lady that screamed and drank a lot of vodka, along with what seemed like the same group of people each, and every time. He had a nagging suspicion that something was going on there, but for now, it was more like a group of friends, than something more sinister.
Putting his motorcycle back into gear, Dimitri gassed the engine.
__________________
The tall man entered the bar, his dark, dirty blonde hair still rather wind-swept. Through the window, one could see the sleek, powerful black motorcycle that he had just parked outside, chained to the ground, and with small, unnoticeable silver spikes sticking out of the seat. The man glanced around once, gloved hands resting in the pockets of his leather jacket, before he caught sight of Yvette. Sitting down beside the other Hunter, Dimitri glanced up at a waitress, his eyes hidden behind his sunglasses.
"A glass of water." He spoke up. His voice was deep, and rather accented with a noticeably Russian accent. He took off his sunglasses, exposing dark blue eyes, before pressing his gloved fingers against his temple. "A bar, girly?" The question was directed towards the smaller figure sitting beside him.
Going 201 mph on his Suzuki Hayabusa, Dimitri loved this sort of adrenaline....everything moved by in a blur as he blazed a sparking, fiery trail down the mountain's long road, body spring-loaded and tense as he smoothly, sharply made a turn that sent him drifting on the curve, the back of his tire nearly touching the safety-gate that, if it hadn't been there, would probably have sent him flying off the mountain, into the forest below. Only the pure agilty and speed of his quick turning and his whip-smart brain allowed him to make the drift, and as the headlights of a nearby truck began shining in his direction, Dimitri steadily dropped his speed to a lower, but still dangerously fast, 94mph.
The sound of his phone vibrating forced the hunter to lower his speed even more. At this point, Greyville was evident in the distance, and soon enough, he'd be on a high-population street, so he wouldn't even be able to go full speed. Keeping one hand on the gas and steering wheel, he opened up the text, reading it quickly. A smirk formed on his face. Yvette...a bar, hm? Probably the one that often times had an annoying lady that screamed and drank a lot of vodka, along with what seemed like the same group of people each, and every time. He had a nagging suspicion that something was going on there, but for now, it was more like a group of friends, than something more sinister.
Putting his motorcycle back into gear, Dimitri gassed the engine.
__________________
The tall man entered the bar, his dark, dirty blonde hair still rather wind-swept. Through the window, one could see the sleek, powerful black motorcycle that he had just parked outside, chained to the ground, and with small, unnoticeable silver spikes sticking out of the seat. The man glanced around once, gloved hands resting in the pockets of his leather jacket, before he caught sight of Yvette. Sitting down beside the other Hunter, Dimitri glanced up at a waitress, his eyes hidden behind his sunglasses.
"A glass of water." He spoke up. His voice was deep, and rather accented with a noticeably Russian accent. He took off his sunglasses, exposing dark blue eyes, before pressing his gloved fingers against his temple. "A bar, girly?" The question was directed towards the smaller figure sitting beside him.
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