Helo

The First Magical Incursion

Fitz

Name: Liam Donovan Fitzpatrick, generally goes by Fitz
Gender: Male
Age: 23
Alignment: Dark Shadow
Rank within Organization:Recruit

Birthmark Shape: Like the image but in black

Hider

Location of Birthmark: Takes up the majority of his left ribcage
Magical Ability: Telekenisis

Place of Birth: Dublin, Ireland
Currently Residing: Ney York City
Personality: Fitz sees the world only in black and white; those without magic are the oppressors; people who although weaker have hunted his people into near extinction and are therefore deserving of whatever they get and those with magic, the strong who must take their place at the top in order to ensure their survival. His father taught him to value strength above all else, while his mother taught him to fear those unlike him. Fitz hates those without abilities and puts his unwavering belief and support in Dark Shadow the way only a passionate zealot can. This is the only thing he’s ever believed in, that it is their birthright to take the power from the weaker masses. He is a man of action, driven by passion and instinct which feeds into his brash and impulsive nature as well, Fitz doesn’t think before he acts, he does what his gut tells him and believes everything will fall into place from there.

His better qualities are his unquestioning loyalty, both to those he considers friends and to a cause he believes in. Once he puts his trust in someone it would be nearly impossible to sway him, he is stubborn and resistant to change and he’d gladly die before he’d ever commit betrayal or give up. This makes him a great soldier for Dark Shadow; he never doubts or questions his orders; he sees himself as a romanticized version of a freedom fighter and the only end he can even imagine for his life is to go out fighting for a cause. Fitz has a bit of a death wish, he can’t imagine himself being settled in any capacity, to ever not be fighting and will risk his life for even the smallest gain with out a second thought. Indignant, reckless, stubborn, arrogant, and quick tempered are his worst qualities while his loyalty, bravery, and willingness to sacrifice easily shine through. With those that he’s more relaxed around Fitz is recognized as a smart ass who almost always has something to say. He rarely complains; he finds ways to solve problems, usually through violence or heavy drinking, rather than dwell on them.

History/Bio: Born in Dublin to an unhappily married couple his parents were too busy with their own troubles to ever really worry about him. His father was an enforcer for a crime family while his mother, a florist, ran a flower shop that doubled as a way to launder money. His old man was a drunk with a volatile personality while his mother was the type who could always see the good in someone. It was from his mother that he got his magic, and was the type who believed in keeping it secret, blending in with the weak masses around them. It was infuriating, every time another kid picked on him, or his father got on him for being weak, all he wanted to do was unleash his power and prove his strength. It was fear that held him back, hearing the stories of the old days, of people like him being tortured, hung, or burned alive. He worried about what would happen to him and his mother should their magic ever be exposed and he harbored a great deal of resentment for it.

He was twelve when they relocated to Boston after his father learnt that authorities had growing suspicious about their criminal lifestyle. It was a new place but the same life, his father a man of violence in the same line of work, his mother doing as she was told and trying to teach her son magic while flying under the radar. He was fifteen when his father found out, stumbling in on of their magic lessons and flying into a drunken rage. Although his mother could’ve easily used magic to stop his father, a lifetime of living in fear of what they were held her back, and a terrified Fitz watched as his father strangled his mother before the man’s rage refocused on his son. The whole time his father was screaming about how they were freaks and before his father could close the distance between them Fitz showed him just how strong he was. With a flick of his wrist he sent a fire poker hurtling towards his old man impaling him. For the first time he felt free as he unleashed his magic. With his parents dead he burnt the house the house down, left, and never looked back.

From then on, he made his way as thief and later a hitman, able to do things others could never explain. He carried bullets with him, using his ability to send with expert precision towards his target; bringing quick death to those he cared little about or pushing the bullet slowly and allowing his victim to suffer when he felt they deserved it. He drifted through life surviving until his recruitment, he’d never meant another magic user before then other than his mother and immediately the Dark Shadow organization became the closest thing that ever felt like him to him. It was a perfect match everything he’d been feeling was suddenly shared by other outcasts, it was something worthy to fight for and to channel his rage through. He belonged, he was useful, and he would enact some change in this world or he would die fighting.

The First Magical Incursion

Fitz

Name: Liam Donovan Fitzpatrick, generally goes by Fitz
Gender: Male
Age: 23
Alignment: Dark Shadow
Rank within Organization:Recruit

Birthmark Shape: Like the image but in black

Hider

Location of Birthmark: Takes up the majority of his left ribcage
Magical Ability: Telekenisis

Place of Birth: Dublin, Ireland
Currently Residing: Ney York City
Personality: Fitz sees the world only in black and white; those without magic are the oppressors; people who although weaker have hunted his people into near extinction and are therefore deserving of whatever they get and those with magic, the strong who must take their place at the top in order to ensure their survival. His father taught him to value strength above all else, while his mother taught him to fear those unlike him. Fitz hates those without abilities and puts his unwavering belief and support in Dark Shadow the way only a passionate zealot can. This is the only thing he’s ever believed in, that it is their birthright to take the power from the weaker masses. He is a man of action, driven by passion and instinct which feeds into his brash and impulsive nature as well, Fitz doesn’t think before he acts, he does what his gut tells him and believes everything will fall into place from there.

His better qualities are his unquestioning loyalty, both to those he considers friends and to a cause he believes in. Once he puts his trust in someone it would be nearly impossible to sway him, he is stubborn and resistant to change and he’d gladly die before he’d ever commit betrayal or give up. This makes him a great soldier for Dark Shadow; he never doubts or questions his orders; he sees himself as a romanticized version of a freedom fighter and the only end he can even imagine for his life is to go out fighting for a cause. Fitz has a bit of a death wish, he can’t imagine himself being settled in any capacity, to ever not be fighting and will risk his life for even the smallest gain with out a second thought. Indignant, reckless, stubborn, arrogant, and quick tempered are his worst qualities while his loyalty, bravery, and willingness to sacrifice easily shine through. With those that he’s more relaxed around Fitz is recognized as a smart ass who almost always has something to say. He rarely complains; he finds ways to solve problems, usually through violence or heavy drinking, rather than dwell on them.

History/Bio: Born in Dublin to an unhappily married couple his parents were too busy with their own troubles to ever really worry about him. His father was an enforcer for a crime family while his mother, a florist, ran a flower shop that doubled as a way to launder money. His old man was a drunk with a volatile personality while his mother was the type who could always see the good in someone. It was from his mother that he got his magic, and was the type who believed in keeping it secret, blending in with the weak masses around them. It was infuriating, every time another kid picked on him, or his father got on him for being weak, all he wanted to do was unleash his power and prove his strength. It was fear that held him back, hearing the stories of the old days, of people like him being tortured, hung, or burned alive. He worried about what would happen to him and his mother should their magic ever be exposed and he harbored a great deal of resentment for it.

He was twelve when they relocated to Boston after his father learnt that authorities had growing suspicious about their criminal lifestyle. It was a new place but the same life, his father a man of violence in the same line of work, his mother doing as she was told and trying to teach her son magic while flying under the radar. He was fifteen when his father found out, stumbling in on of their magic lessons and flying into a drunken rage. Although his mother could’ve easily used magic to stop his father, a lifetime of living in fear of what they were held her back, and a terrified Fitz watched as his father strangled his mother before the man’s rage refocused on his son. The whole time his father was screaming about how they were freaks and before his father could close the distance between them Fitz showed him just how strong he was. With a flick of his wrist he sent a fire poker hurtling towards his old man impaling him. For the first time he felt free as he unleashed his magic. With his parents dead he burnt the house the house down, left, and never looked back.

From then on, he made his way as thief and later a hitman, able to do things others could never explain. He carried bullets with him, using his ability to send with expert precision towards his target; bringing quick death to those he cared little about or pushing the bullet slowly and allowing his victim to suffer when he felt they deserved it. He drifted through life surviving until his recruitment, he’d never meant another magic user before then other than his mother and immediately the Dark Shadow organization became the closest thing that ever felt like him to him. It was a perfect match everything he’d been feeling was suddenly shared by other outcasts, it was something worthy to fight for and to channel his rage through. He belonged, he was useful, and he would enact some change in this world or he would die fighting.

Raindale University For Witches [+18]

Wyatt Hawthorne

| Nickname |

Wyatt

| Age |

22

| Gender |

Male

| Sexuality |

Straight

| Racial Orientation |

American, Born and raised in Texas

| History

Wyatt was born in a small town in rural Texas, his father, was very much “new magic,” although many a night after heavy drinking his father would frequently claim that his father, Wyatt’s grandfather, was a bastard of Aleister Crowley conceived during ritual sex magic. His father was a compulsive liar so Wyatt very much doubts any validity to that statement. His mother’s family is “old magic” but disowned his mother after her engagement. His father, who legally had his name changed to Magnus, while charismatic was also extremely manipulative with a violent streak. His mother, Laura, was a kind women who, when he was very young he remembered as being free-spirited and full of joy, but the older he got the more and more he could see these qualities being drained from her.

During his early childhood, they were poor but his father very quickly became successful, seem to have a knack for business and investing. As their wealth grew they moved frequently and his father often made time to teach young Wyatt magic. His lessons were strict and his preferred methods of discipline were generally violent. Wyatt was thirteen when an order of powerful witches and warlocks came for his father, who had been using the darkest of magic in order to further his wealth and power. His father’s ability to practice magic was bound and he was turned into the more mundane authorities. To the non-magical community, Magnus Hawthorne was known as The Satanic Ripper, a now infamous serial killer who during his trial would engage in long rants about his magical abilities, while those who practice magic knew him as one who broke every sacred law of magic and who could’ve put the entire community in danger.

The Hawthorne’s money was gone before the year was over and the state of Texas would go on to execute his father. Before the verdict was even given Wyatt and his mother moved to Austin to get away and for the first time darkness did not follow them. His mother returned to her maiden name to avoid recognition but Wyatt kept him, refusing to let himself feel shamed by what his father did, planning to one day have his name be connected to bringing goodness and light into the world rather than darkness and cruelty. His mother worked hard to provide as a cook but made the choice not to use true magic any longer, although she did do fake tarot readings and such at carnivals and festivals. His mother also forbids magic in their home, Wyatt practiced exclusively in secret, teaching himself when he could.

His mother died the year before he applied to Raindale, liver failure after a life of trying to drink away the memory of Magnus. Her family didn’t come to the funeral, would not help out financially, and refuse to have any contact with Wyatt due to what they see as his association with darkness. It bothers him much more than he likes and part of his need to prove himself as both a capable Warlock and a good man comes from their refusal to see him as anything more than the son of a monster and as a way to honor his mother by replacing the wrongs associated with his family with something right.

| Personality

Kind-Outgoing-Patient-Bold
Proud-Impulsive-Naïve-Stubborn

| Likes

-Hot, sunny days
-Food, especially spicy food, seafood, or a nice rare steak
-Nature
-Loud music
-Marijuana

| Dislikes

-Alcohol
-Cold weather
-Any mention of his father, especially being told he looks like him
-Magic used for power or selfishness
-Anger or violence

| Hobbies

A joker, smoker, and a midnight toker; he enjoys relaxing with a cigarette or something on the greener side and doesn’t take much too seriously, having had enough heavy stuff happen early on Wyatt likes to keep life light and fun. He enjoys live music, parties, and a good bonfire.

| Fears

His past and impulsive nature cause him to worry about how susceptible he may be to the dark side, he doesn’t want to turn out bad the way so many people expect him too and thus stays away from anything he views as potentially dangerous magic. Also clowns and old dolls because they’re just extremely creepy.

| Dreams

To become someone who is recognized, in a positive light, for who he is and not for who his father was. To be able to say his name with pride and to know he has to lead a good life and put something good back into the world.

| Year

2nd

| Classes

First year he took summoning, potions, and cleansing. This year he’s on to mythical creatures, herbology, elemental magic, and soul restoration.

| Specialization

Wyatt’s not certain he’s found exactly what he’s gifted in due to how strongly he shies away from power and also finds his broad interests and eagerness to learn to distract him from focusing on one thing for too long. Right now his interest is leaning towards healing magic, the thought of helping people is appealing. He is also very excited for mythical creatures classes.

| Strengths

Wyatt’s kind and outgoing nature make him skilled at connecting with people, his dedication to things, even ones he finds difficult to learn to make him a decent student despite most of his pre-Raindale experience being self-taught. He also has a strong moral compass, even though he frequently doubts his nature, making it difficult to stray him from his path.

| Weakness

His deep fear of power and its corrupting influence puts a self-imposed limit on what he can accomplish. He also has a deep-seated need to please people and for them to like him. Wyatt is prone to self-doubt and general mopey-ness when people don’t like him.

| Familiar

Clyde, a tri-colored Treeing Walker Coonhound who is missing his right eye. Wyatt found him a few years back chained up in a yard, looking emaciated, on a hot Texas day without a shelter or water bowl in sight. It was like the dog was calling out for him, so, he took the dog home and they formed a powerful bond. Their agreement is pretty simple, after using a great deal of his own magic and energy to heal the dog, Wyatt now feeds and cares for Clyde and in turn, Clyde acts as his familiar. Clyde being a fairly lazy hound dog is known only to move quickly when there is food unattended or something worthy of a chase. His baying can often be heard around campus in the spring and Wyatt is often stuck apologizing for the food his dog has stolen. Clyde’s hobbies, besides thievin’, include long sun naps and alternating between looking incredibly judgmental or innocent of any possible wrongdoing that may have recently occurred.

Clyde

Raindale University For Witches [+18]

Wyatt Hawthorne

| Nickname |

Wyatt

| Age |

22

| Gender |

Male

| Sexuality |

Straight

| Racial Orientation |

American, Born and raised in Texas

| History

Wyatt was born in a small town in rural Texas, his father, was very much “new magic,” although many a night after heavy drinking his father would frequently claim that his father, Wyatt’s grandfather, was a bastard of Aleister Crowley conceived during ritual sex magic. His father was a compulsive lair so Wyatt very much doubts any validity to that statement. His mother’s family is “old magic” but disowned his mother after her engagement. His father, who legally had his name changed to Magnus, while charismatic was also extremely manipulative with a violent streak. His mother, Laura, was a kind women who, when he was very young he remembered as being free spirited and full of joy, but the older he got the more and more he could see these qualities being drained from her.

During his early childhood they were poor but his father very quickly became successful, seeming to have a knack for business and investing. As their wealth grew they moved frequently and his father often made time to teach young Wyatt magic. His lessons were strict and his preferred methods of discipline were generally violent. Wyatt was thirteen when an order of powerful witches and warlocks came for his father, who had been using the darkest of magics in order to further his wealth and power. His father’s ability to practice magic was bound and he was turned into the more mundane authorities. To the non-magical community Magnus Hawthorne was known as The Satanic Ripper, a now infamous serial killer who during his trial would engage in long rants about his magical abilities, while those who practice magic knew him as one who broke every scared law of magic and who could’ve put the entire community in danger.

The Hawthorne’s money was gone before the year was over and the state of Texas would go on to execute his father. Before the verdict was even given Wyatt and his mother moved to Austin to get away and for the first time darkness did not follow them. His mother returned to her maiden name to avoid recognition but Wyatt kept his, refusing to let him self feel shamed by what his father did, planning to one day have his name be connected to bringing goodness and light into the world rather than darkness and cruelty. His mother worked hard to provide as a cook but made the choice not use true magic any longer, although she did do fake tarot readings and such at carnivals and festivals. His mother also forbid magic in their home, Wyatt practiced exclusively in secret, teaching himself when he could.

His mother died the year before he applied to Raindale, liver failure after a life of trying to drink away the memory of Magnus. Her family didn’t come to the funeral, would not help out financially, and refuse to have any contact with Wyatt due to what they see as his association with darkness. It bothers him much more than he likes and part of his need to prove himself as both a capable Warlock and a good man comes from their refusal to see him as anything more than the son of a monster and as a way to honor his mother by replacing the wrongs associated with his family with something right.

| Personality

Kind-Outgoing-Patient-Bold
Proud-Impulsive-Naïve-Stubborn

| Likes

-Hot, sunny days
-Food, especially spicy food, seafood, or a nice rare steak
-Nature
-Loud music
-Marijuana

| Dislikes

-Alcohol
-Cold weather
-Any mention of his father, especially being told he looks like him
-Magic used for power or selfishness
-Anger or violence

| Hobbies

A joker, smoker, and a midnight toker; he enjoys relaxing with a cigarette or something on the greener side and doesn’t take much too seriously, having had enough heavy stuff happen early on Wyatt likes to keep life light and fun. He enjoys live music, parties, and a good bonfire.

| Fears

His past and impulsive nature cause him to worry about how susceptible he may be to the dark side, he doesn’t want to turn out bad the way so many people expect him too and thus stays away from anything he views as potentially dangerous magic. Also clowns and old dolls because they’re just extremely creepy.

| Dreams

To become someone whose recognized, in a positive light, for who he is and not for who his father was. To be able to say his name with pride and to know he has lead a good life and put something good back into the world.

| Year

2nd

| Classes

First year he took summoning, potions, and cleansing. This year he’s on to mythical creatures, herbology, elemental magic, and soul restoration.

| Specialization

Wyatt’s not certain he’s found exactly what he’s gifted in due to how strongly he shys away from power and also finds his broad interests and eagerness to learn distracts him from focusing on one thing for too long. Right now his interest is leaning towards healing magic, the thought of helping people is appealing. He is also very excited for mythical creatures classes.

| Strengths

Wyatt’s kind and outgoing nature make him skilled at connecting with people, his dedication to things, even ones he finds difficult to learn make him a descent student despite most of his pre-Raindale experience being self-taught. He also has a strong moral compass, even though he frequently doubts his nature, making it difficult to stray him from his path.

| Weakness

His deep fear of power and its corrupting influence puts a self-imposed limit on what he can accomplish. He also has a deep-seated need to please people and for them to like him. Wyatt is prone to self-doubt and general mopey-ness when people don’t like him.

| Familiar

Clyde, a tri-colored Treeing Walker Coonhound who is missing his right eye. Wyatt found him a few years back chained up in yard, looking emaciated, on a hot Texas day without a shelter or water bowl in sight. It was like the dog was calling out for him, so, he took the dog home and they formed a powerful bond. Their agreement is pretty simple, after using a great deal of his own magic and energy to heal the dog, Wyatt now feeds and cares for Clyde and in turn Clyde acts as his familiar. Clyde being a fairly lazy hound dog is known only to move quickly when there is food unattended or something worthy of a chase. His baying can often be heard around campus in the spring and Wyatt is often stuck apologizing for the food his dog has stolen. Clyde’s hobbies, besides thievin’, include long sun naps and alternating between looking incredibly judgmental or innocent of any possible wrong doing that may have recently occurred.

Clyde

This Town of Ours

Location: The Church
Tags: Lilith (@dragonbutts), Nicole (@Silence Sounds), Father Luca (@Metronome)

Wyatt studied the map handed to him by Father Luca, three spots marked where victims had been found, and a triangle over acres of woods and railroad tracks. Seemed like a likely place a vampire to hide, a weird stranger staying in town just as people started dying would probably draw a lot more attention. His experience with small towns was that it was hard to fly under the radar, there was nothing to do but gossip so anyone new or who didn’t fit in generally became the main subject of said gossip. It usually made hunting in small towns much easier.

“Excellent, Father, I think this is a great place to start.” He said showing the map to Nicole and Lilith. He was more than happy to start their hunt in the woods, it was way less suspicious to see strangers with knives, bows, and guns in the woods than around town and without knowing for sure what they were dealing with here the more weapons they could have the better. Plus he always felt more at home in the woods than he did around civilization, even if it was just a small town. “Shall we head to the woods and see if we can track anything, or I can go alone if there’s other leads you want to follow up on in town?” He offered, addressing the two other hunters.

Vinehurst High

Brody wasn’t fazed by the fact that Kurt seemed unimpressed by his jokes, he kept near the guy and made sure they made it to the bathroom. Of course, on the way there they passed by Hannah “two faced” Franklin. Okay so that wasn’t her actual nickname but it was what Brody thought of anytime he saw her. She put on the most insincere performance as she coed about Kurt and how she may just faint at the sight of blood. Brody offered her the single finger salute as she winked at him, paired with a sarcastic grin. Irene mentioned something about Hannah having a problem with her, “Even though we go to school with a guy totally named Lucifer, I’m pretty sure she’s the actually Satan.” Brody joked, as the paused by the bathroom which was currently closed for cleaning. Brody moved the sign out of the way while Irene offered Kurt something to drink and some applesauce. He smiled a little, it was nice to know some people in this school were still kind, offering their lunch to a guy she barely knew.

“Hey thanks for helping us out, you’re really awesome. Um, maybe I could buy your lunch today, since it looks like you’ve given Kurt the good parts. I think it’s chicken finger day which is usually pretty okay as far as the café’ goes, and you could sit with us, if you want to, you don’t have to though.” Brody rambled on to Irene, kind of nervously, as he lost focus on Kurt once again. Whatever Kurt now had a drink and some applesauce so it wasn’t like his situation was all that dire. Brody hadn’t had a lot of chances to talk to Irene, he had wanted to but she always seemed busy with art or something and he didn’t really know what to say. He then felt his ears turn red as he thought about how awkward he probably sounded and he glanced back at Kurt. “We should probably get moving before the bell rings.” He said as he quickly helped Kurt into a room where Irene wouldn’t be following.

It's A Long Way To The Top... (Band/Musician RP)

Still in sorry, I can get a post up soon

Vinehurst High

Brody helped Kurt to his feet and nodded at his request not to involve the nurse. Out of a hallway full of people only one other person had come over to help Kurt, Irene, a girl he recognized from art. He recognized her because last year he had spent more time noticing her than actually working on whatever he was supposed to be doing in class. She was wicked talented, while Brody could barely manage to draw a stick figure, and he was always impressed with people who could create something beautiful from the most basic of supplies. For a split second, he forgot about Kurt, and the geyser of blood that had been flowing from his nose, and only noticed the attractive redhead offering to help them, usually girls avoided them in an attempt to not catch the weird.

He snapped back to attention when he heard Sol shout Kurt’s name. Oh right, Kurt, the guy that’s bleeding and about to pass out. We should probably focus on that. He thought as Sol started to freak out and then run off to find something for Kurt to drink before the guy passed out. He nodded to Sol when he asked if Kurt was gonna be okay, it was just a bloody nose after all, chances of survival were very high. “Of course, he’s gonna be fine. He added insuring those around him. He glanced back at the very pale Kurt. “No worries bro, Sol’s gonna get you 500cc’s of Mountain Dew, stat, we can save you, we have the technology.” He assured his friend in his most dramatic voice. He kept close to Kurt just in case he did actually pass out, that way he could at least make sure he didn’t hit his head too hard or anything.

This Town of Ours

Location: The Church
Tags: Lilith (@dragonbutts), Nicole (@Silence Sounds), Father Luca (@Metronome)

Wyatt couldn’t help but silently agree with Father Luca not being much use at vampire hunting. He thought it was strange that Nicole didn’t want any biscuits, who didn’t appreciate a free meal. Wyatt helped himself to the still warm and flaky biscuits the good Father had been kind enough to provide. He chewed as he listened to the others talk. Nicole seemed to be in a rush to be out of the church, a place that did make some people uncomfortable, and he wondered what the rush was, it was still light out so they likely weren’t going to make much headway on the vampire tracking until night. Whatever, he figured that was her own business, there were some people out there whose entire lives didn’t revolve around hunting after all. He could vaguely remember what that was like to think about something other than killing monsters. He thought back to a time when the highlight of his day wasn’t free bred in a dusty old room.

No point in dwelling on the past now though, for now he had to focus on the hunt. He quickly swallowed the remains of biscuit he had in his mouth. “I guess it’d be helpful if you could tell us anything about the victims and where they were found. Maybe we could establish a pattern, a certain part of town the thing prefers to hunt at or what kind of person it tends to go after, anything you can think of to help us track the thing or even some incidental details that might have struck you as odd.” Wyatt asked the priest, hoping for a bit more to go on than a vampire in town, the quicker they stopped this thing the better. After he spoke he popped another half a biscuit in his mouth, it had been a while since he’d had hot food.

---

---

Location: Vampire Manor
Tags: Seb ([dragonbutts])

Bas was like a frustrated cat, he hated being cooped up inside with nothing to do. He was restless and agitated; he wanted to hunt something, even if it wasn’t human. Unfortunately, unless he was craving rats from the basement, there was nothing to hunt in the manor. Waiting for anything, especially for the night, wasn’t exactly his strong suit, so to the pass the time he had to find something to do. Although Kyle was a cool guy he was somewhat predictable which made Bas lose interest in him fairly quickly, and Marianne was always going on about art and stuff he was barely interested in, and most of the rest of the coven was either out, missing, or refused to put up with his antics. The only option left for entertainment was the new vamp, Seb.

Seb was like a shiny new toy, Bas had yet to figure him out completely, he’d yet to figure out how to make him lose his cool so he was not yet predictable. Bas’s new game was to figure out the best ways to both manipulate and aggravate him, and eventually he would solve that puzzle and need a new form of entertainment. For now, though the name of the game was instigation and it seemed that noisily rummaging through the study had barely earned him a look of annoyance; Bas welcomed a more difficult challenge. So far Seb had proven to be about as lively as a god damn statue, and statues were boring. Bas’s challenge to himself was to see if he could get the guy to liven up some before nightfall.

“Nothing, huh?” Bas said in response as he picked up a decanter of scotch, scotch that was old by human standards but still young in comparison to the vampires in the room. Bas pour two glasses of the amber liquid. “Doesn’t look like nothin’, what it looks like is brooding. And fucking Christ on a cracker man that’s like vampire cliche number one.” He added as he place on of the glasses of scotch by Seb. Bas took a swig of his own glass and for a second he missed the warmth a strong drink used to give him. “You’re old as shit and all so I’m guessing you’ve forgotten how to have fun, or maybe you’ve never knew how to have fun in the first place, I don’t know. What I do know is that sitting in some dusty old room all day is gonna make you wanna go sunbathing. So instead of spending the day gloomin’ about…” Bas paused dramatically and took a second to finish the scotch in his glass before continuing. “You wanna play Mario Kart?” Bas asked, picking a game that had causedveven the coolest of heads lose their tempers.

Vinehurst High

Brody slept like the dead, the sound of his alarm beeping obnoxiously failed to stir him. It wasn’t until the sound of his father, fist banging against his door and slurred voice shouting at him, that he finally rose.

“Boy, you shut that damn thing off or I swear to god-” His old man yelled, he jiggled the door knob but Brody always slept with his door locked; after you get woken up with a kick to the ribs a few times you learn. When the door didn’t open, the man knocked louder.

“Sorry, sorry, it’s off.” Brody said, frantically turning off the clock radio that sat on the floor next to his mattress. He heard his old man grumble something and shuffle off. He got up and rummaged through the clothes piles in his room, searching for the clean pile. He grabbed some clothes, his shoes, and backpack and threw them near his bed. He unlocked his door and peaked out of his room, the old man had passed back out in his own room which meant he was safe to use the bathroom without any more unpleasant encounters.

After a shower, he returned to his room and got ready for school. Everything but his shoes, socks, and boxers were from the thrift store; faded jeans with naturally occurring ripped up knees that was just a bit too big and too long for him, an old, faded, Iron Maiden t-shirt, and a red flannel shirt. His shoes, black and gray Etnies, had seen better days, but he’d keep wearing them until they literally fell apart. He grabbed his wallet and phone and shoved them into his pockets and threw his backpack over his shoulder. Before he left the house, he threw on a snapback and grabbed one of his boards,

As soon as he was outside his wheels hit the pavement; skating was his preferred method of getting around although to make it to school on time meant catching a bus for part of the way. Before heading to the bus stop he stooped at one of the corner stores for a red bull, a cheap sleeve of donuts, and a pack of Camel Blue’s; the guy at the corner store never asked for ID. At the bus stop he ate the white powdered donuts, drank the red bull, and smoked a cigarette while waiting. He flicked the almost finished cigarette into the street just as the bus pulled up.

He got off the bus after a few stops and skated the rest of the way to school. He made to the campus just in time to see Sol catch some air only to earn a lecture from Mr. Kovacs. In his opinion, Kovacs was a total douche, last year he had literally told Brody that ‘if he caught him using school grounds as his personal half pipe he’d put his board in a wood chipped,’ like what a jackass. He said nothing to the nerds who rode their bikes to school but was always picking on the skaters. But, since today his target seemed to be Sol, Brody rolled past him giving the man’s back the finger and sticking his tongue out as he passed, and hoping Sol saw him do it.

Upon reaching the front door he pushes down on the tail of the board until and turns toward the door stopping quickly, Brody then steps off and gives the tail of his board a quick pop and catches the front truck in his hand. He headed towards his locker but before he made it there he noticed a small crowd had formed in the hall. They were like sharks that smelled blood, and it usually meant one thing, a fight. When he got closer however it seemed like he had missed all the action and found Kurt slumped down by some lockers with a freshly bloody nose. Brody approached and sat next to Kurt and sat his board on his other side.

“Man you couldn’t even make it to homeroom without startin’ a fight. I’m not mad bro, just, like, disappointed. Mostly that you didn’t wait for me and, hey man, you should pinch your nose and lean forward, you look anemic enough as it.” Brody teased his friend as he leaned against the cool lockers, noticing that he looked a bit paler than usual. Man, for a guy who looked like the wind could blow him away he certainly had a talent for finding trouble. Brody liked that, Kurt was scrappy like an alley cat, never doing what was in his best interest. They had a more than a few things in common besides shitty dads which was probably why they got along pretty well.

“Whatcha think, Skellington, you need an escort to the nurse? She’s always hooking me up with apple juice and ice packs. Or you know we could plot, like, sweet, sweet, revenge on our enemies.” Bordy kept rambling on, Kurt looked like he might pass out so he was hoping to give him something to focus on.