harlequined | ( AN OPEN POST #2 )

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( AN OPEN POST #2 )

you know the drill. pick your poison (not entirely limited to those listed). reply with a prompt in the form of a post, photo, song, text, voicemail, whatever your heart desires & receive a response. simple, right? right.

Threaded | Flat

Plenty of humans were monstrous,
and plenty of monsters knew how to play at being human.

[ this town's a bloody shithole. he can smell it about ten miles out; the whole thing reeks of teenagers' hormones and wolf bollocks.

he tells himself he could go the other way. chas has never been particularly fond of california, and he's not half fancy of it on his own, either. they say it's a beacon, of sorts — as if "beacon hills" wasn't cliched enough for you, here, let's have a pun, eh? — that it calls out to the supernatural in a way that might do up a shiver or two.

that's not why they're here, of course. it's rather a happy circumstance that they've made it past the state line, after a messy exorcism stint he'd had here back in the 80s. the same stint, in which, he'd found himself shacked up with a sort of harbinger of death: a banshee, one lorraine martin. she'd been out in los angeles when they'd come to know one another, but her heart never really left this cocked up spit of a town.

so, when he mutters to chas around a cigarette about taking a left instead of a right, he knows to do the opposite. they haven't happened here for nothing. there's trouble in them there hills, and he made a promise a long time ago to look after the next banshee that managed to find its way down the line. she's all spitfire red and a smile like her grandmother's; forgive him for keeping tabs on the girl, only doing his civic duty-like.

they've arrived none too soon. after the bit with the druids, the nogitsune bastard, and whatever the bleeding hell the argent girl had been turned into, there's talk of a storm brewing overhead. a storm that's like nothing they've ever known before. john's on the edge of his seat when he hears it. chas peels into gear, taking off toward the familiar wail.

when they arrive, john doesn't waste time. they're outside the local high school when he steps from the car. he tosses his cigarette to the wayside and raps his knuckles on the window. chas lowers it and john nods. ]

Keep an eye out, yeah? Kids out after curfew — nasty business.

[ he flashes his mate a grin and pulls his collar around his neck. the waves of her scream still resonate throughout the air. so much so, it's only a matter of tracing them to the source. he sighs as he pulls open the front door. ]

Right. School's back in bloody session, then.