Dew (open)

[Jillian Moore]

Jillian watched, pleased to see the werewolf turn around after roaring angrily at her. However, the next face she saw, was not as pleasing. Though it was good to see another Hunter, Craig was the last Hunter she wanted to see right now. He said something snide to her about how she had gotten herself into another situation similar to that. She scowled up at him and looked at the rocky ground. She could see where it would be easiest to climb from where she was.

"Craig. Get useful. Go to my bike. There's a bunch of rope stashed under the seat. That will be best. If the little shit comes back, I've still got enough fight left in me to get away from it. I'll let you know so you can come and kill the fucker," She grunted angrily.

It wasn't that Jillian didn't appreciate what he had done for her. Not at all. She was very glad that it had happened. However, it was infuriating to see how things ended up. Of all the Hunters to have followed her, it had to be him. If her scowl could become deeper, it would have become permenantly stuck on her face.

((Bear with me. I'm on a trip with limited access.))

[Julian McAllister]

Had his retreat been slower, the air clearer, the fog less than a thick grey blanket over the entire area, the lycan might've noticed a second potential prey item in the same area that he was leaving. His senses were, after all, more than keen enough, and a small nagging feeling in the back of his mind had slowed his retreat slightly. Ever so slightly. But he'd ignored it and crept on, thoroughly convinced that no scrawny human was worth the massive amount of effort catching that one was proving to be. The night was a lost cause. Somewhere beyond the dark clouds and distant storms, the sun was rising, the night was coming to an end and day was breaking like a foul taste in his mouth. What a waste.

Growling to himself, the lycan stalked hastily across the open grass, casually stepping over tombstones and weaving between monuments. The hour was still a fairly early one, far outside the realm of public exploration. So, his movements were casual, his pace sluggish from exertion an laden with a distinct sense of security as he crawled through a large hole that had been bent in the iron fencing surrounding the massive cemetery. He stepped out onto an empty sidewalk, the only life form for blocks being a stray dog on the corner, who'd turned tail the moment blue eyes had turned its way. Animals were always more responsive than humans, it seemed.

Grumbling quietly, a sound that came out more beastial than intelligent, rumbling low in the wolf's deep chest, he crept onward, walking slowly across the street on all fours and down an alleyway. As he settled into a sitting position in the cold, hard shadow of a large dumpster, those glowing blue eyes of his found themselves resting on the sleek outline of what appeared to be a bike of some sort, one of many motorized vehicles that humans had to use to keep up with his kind. They were loud, filthy, horrible machines and the lycan's muzzle tensed into snarl at the sight of it. It smelled of that girl...

((Yup, no worries. :3))

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[Craig Bennett]

"You don't seem terrifically happy to see me," observed Craig with a tinge of amusement in his voice as he stood up and paused, looking down at her for a moment. "Would you otherwise be planning on standing there until someone came along and didn't try to kill you? Remember it is Iwho has the ability to get you out and not the other way around," he added, for a moment humorless before walking away from her at a speed that was not particularly fast, but rather insouciant, as if he was not traipsing through a graveyard with a werewolf on the loose for a rope to save someone who had thinly manage to survive falling off a cliff.

Craig made a bit of a beeline to where he was sure he had entered from, but he just ended up at a stretch of the iron fence. After a minute of debating whether to continue onward or to just climb over, he decided he'd attempt to save time and climb over. Perhaps ten years ago, maybe even five, this would have been easier, though not in any stretch of the imagination easy. It honestly didn't make sense why he'd want to go over this way, besides his foolish stubbornness and longing to prove to himself that he was just as capable as he had been when he was younger.

The dew, though was not present in large quantity, still made the bars fairly slick. He gripped them tightly in his hands and attempted to pull himself up as he struggled to get a foothold. When he did not manage to pull himself up that time, it just fueled the fire, and he tried again, to no avail. After several other such endeavors, Craig resentfully turned away from the fence and continued on walking the perimeter, trying to stop thinking about his failure, but knowing very well that it would likely add to the troublesome feeling that was starting to overcome him.

Several minutes later, he happened on a large hole in the fence where the bars had been bent apart, giving him enough space to get through. And there, down the street a little ways, was her bike. If only he hadn't wasted all that time trying to get over that fence, Craig could've reached it much earlier. Regardless, he was here now. Walking over to Jillian's method of transport, he didn't even glance at the surrounding area, completely focused on his goal as he was.

[Jillian Moore]

((Jump, Gator. I'm traveling all day tomorrow. Feel free to post without me until one of you returns to the cliff. We can assume that Jillian is pissed and not having a good time as she struggles to climb the cliff until then. Sorry for the inconvenience!))

[Julian McAllister]

The sound of wet flesh slapping against slick iron was so foreign and distant, distorted by the distant sounds of rumbling thunder and slowly awakening city, that the lycan had difficulty even identifying it at first. His head jerked up from where he'd let it rest on the rear of the dumpster, pointed ears perked and swiveling wildly like satellites in the evening sky. Briefly, he'd imagined a fish was left dying and flapping on the pavement, but a series of very humanoid grunts made this an impossibility. Cuss word perhaps. As the slapping noises faded into footsteps, which first seemed to turn away from the lycan before suddenly nearing him in unmistakable clarity, the beast bowed its head back beneath the dumpster's topline and his ears dove back into the safety of the dark fur of his skull.

There was no way the girl could've climbed such a cliff so quickly, so the sounds were baffling, frightening even. What kind of ungodly creature could not only survive a fall of that magnitude, but then scale the rock face even faster than a lycan could? Some horrible demonic beast no doubt.

He would've peered around the corner, would've taken a long moment to look, to sniff, to sense that the body that approached through the hole in the fence was not only different, but vastly. But before blue eyes could peer around the edge of the metal container, something shifted. The sky lightened a fraction, the wind changed directions, a subway passed beneath the pavement, loud and rumbling, and a crack of thunder shook the windows of an above building. Then silence, nothing, as though time itself had been suddenly frozen. Everything afterward hit like the waves of a tsunami, something massive and horrible that clawed at the skin and ripped at the bones. The pavement was cold beneath the skin, still wet from previous rain and with morning dew, sticking old rappers and newspapers and garbage to the warm flesh as though it sought the comfort of another. Without even thinking about it first, Julian sat up with a start, hastily rubbing at his arms with shaking hands to rid himself of the debris clinging to his bare skin as though it burned. Dirty papers were far from the worst of his problems however, and boy did he know it.

Naked in an alleyway in New York City and he was worried about the fucking trash.

With all of the panic and haste that was expected in such a situation, the lycan turned human for the time being leapt clumsily to his feet, stumbling out of the shadows in something of a daze in a feeble attempt to get a handle on his location. The sidewalk he found himself standing on, bare foot mind you, was not a familiar one, and his wrinkled his nose at the painful realization that, undoubtedly, he was lost... again. Weren't sleep walkers supposed to wander to familiar places? Or something like that, he'd read that somewhere. Placing one slender hand on the back of his neck sheepishly, Julian gave the area a good once over, noticing the man by the motorcycle relatively quickly but casually ignoring him. He didn't seem like the helpful type and was far too absorbed in some other important matter to be bothered. But the street was deserted, even the road was completely clear of cars and traffic lights blinked uselessly in the morning fog in both directions. This guy seemed to be the only logical option to pursue. So, with a sigh and a slump of his shoulders, the black haired young man relented relatively quickly, clearing his throat loudly, as though the man with the motorbike were the one obviously overstepping social boundaries.

"Um," Already knowing that what he was about to say was going to sound absolutely retarded, he hesitated briefly, shaking his head casually before finally mustering up the courage to try and miserably draw attention to himself. "Nice bike."



((Last out of character note, feel no need to match the length of this post because holy jesus, what even was I doing.))

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[Craig Bennett]

Craig moved towards the back of the bike, reaching out to the rope that was resting there, coiled like a snake taking its afternoon nap. As he gripped it in his hands, he heard someone behind him clear their throat. Turning around impatiently, his face was set in a glare before he even saw the man. And once he did, he backed up several paces and looked at the stranger with one brow raised. Because, you see, the man was as naked as a newborn infant.

There was a long moment where Craig just blinked, not quite believing that he was really witnessing some naked kid standing around here. Why? Why would he be naked around here? Some stupid drunk, maybe? He wasn't exactly seeming like the intellectual type, not after his rather uncomfortably voiced statement, 'Nice bike.' He was standing in some alley in New York completely naked. A million things he could've said, a million explanations that could've been offered, and he said, 'Nice bike.'

The ridiculousness of the situation did manage to get Craig to smile for a few seconds, but it quickly faded as he looked coldly at the stranger in front of him. Should he really just leave him like this? Of course he should. Better to not get mixed up in all that. But his curiosity prodded him with questions. One, really. And that was the rather obvious one.

"The bike's not mine. And why the hell are you naked?" Craig snapped with blatant disgust. Why was he naked? Maybe this kid was a stripper. Maybe he was drunk the night before and shit happened, like he had wondered about before. Whatever the reason, Craig was sure he didn't want anything to do with it. Besides, he had more important things to do. He had to haul some stupid girl off of some ledge. He should probably get to that.

"You know what? I don't care. Someone I know is stuck on a ledge right now because some shithole of a werewolf chased her there. So unless you feel like helping me haul her out, I need to go. And you should go find some pants, kid," he said slowly, crossing his arms and looking at the man with disapproval. Now that he thought about it, though, the man could be of some help. It'd probably piss Jill off that Craig had gone and found another person to witness her predicament, which would just add to his amusement. Craig didn't really want to bring along some naked kid, but he'd leave the option for him.

"I'm serious. Get some pants, and if you want to come, you can," Craig added, starting to walk away and looking back at the last moment. That same nagging feeling was still here. Was he getting soft with age? First saving that stupid woman the first time, now the second time, and now offering to take that kid along to help her? He didn't need help. Jillian would climb out herself, and tying knots wasn't hard. So what was it? Was he lonely? Sad? No, he was fine. Everything was just fine. Just like it had always been.

((It was a fun post to reply to, at the least. xD And honestly, the only reason I haven't been posting largeish posts as of late is because I'm working on an art commission for my county fair.))

[Julian McAllister]

There was a long and completely understandable moment of staring that Julian waited quite patiently through. He was a pretty empathetic young man and knew full well how ridiculously unusual it was to turn around and find any sort of unclothed figure standing there, waiting for the coming storm to drench his skin down to the bones and doing nothing to be modest about it. Every second, it seemed more and more ridiculous even to him, and he was the one missing clothes. But, flipping out or becoming modest were both not terribly helpful options so, almost casually, he shrugged his bony shoulders awkwardly and shuffled his feet where he stood, raising slender hands to grip his elbows as though the dark morning air was chilly despite the summer heat. It was not.

"Yeah right, let me just reach out into obligatory hammer space for a spare set of jeans." That came out more sarcastically than he'd intended, so blue eyes were drawn away sheepishly, straight nose crinkling in a bit of a wince. But really, what had this guy been expecting. That a grown ass man would simply choose to be naked on the streets at this hour? If he had clothes, he'd be wearing them.

Worrying the bend of his crossed arms with one set of long, thin fingers, Julian very briefly entertained the idea of perhaps swiping clothes from one of the fresher graves in the cemetery. He'd worked briefly in one on the other side of town back in high school, but grave robbing seemed so terribly low, even in a situation as desperate as his. Those clothes were all the bodies buried beyond the black iron fenceline had. It'd be like stealing candy from a baby, someone so defenseless, with no other major possessions. He couldn't just... run off in their pants. There was a store a few doors down, some sort of musty pawn shop, but the windows were dark and the door drawn shut with bars and a large closed sign. There'd be no place open for hours.

He was on the verge of diving into a nearby dumpster for even a scrap of rags or a piece of something, when movement across the street caught his attention suddenly. In a panic, he half shuffled half jogged his way across, stepping lightly with bare feet and reaching out desperately with one hand to keep the stranger from leaving. Something told him to be more cautious, weary of such an imposing figure, particularly now that burly hands gripped a long coil of rope. God knows what he was going to do with that. But the lycan decided he had little other choice in the matter.

"W-Wait, look. I don't..." He trailed off briefly as another wave of sheepishness washed over him, realizing he was less than an arm's length from another grown man, and was completely nude. But he ran it off with a sigh and a pass of his fingers through his wavy black hair. Normally, it was slicked back and lay against the back of his neck, but whatever he'd done last night left it disheveled and tattered, random strands resting forward against his ears and forehead. "I don't know where I am or what to do. I don't know what happened last night, I have no idea how to get home, even if I did where the hell could my keys possibly be, I don't know what happened last night or where the hell my clothes buggered off to. But I swear I'm not a drunk or a drug addict or a prostitute or god knows whatever else."

He had to pause briefly to catch his breath, speaking hastily with more than a slight hint of panic. Somebody his age had gotten raped on the subway at this hour two months ago. Granted, she had been a women, but what did that matter in this day and age. Waking up on a strange street in a strange neighborhood with no one around and everything dark, foggy and closed was decidedly, logically and appropriately, very scary.

"I'm just... lost. A little."

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[Craig Bennett]

A good, but obnoxiously sarcastic point was made. Obnoxious because it was a good point and because sarcasm, while something that Craig often used, was not something that he appreciated being directed towards him. The oddest thing was that the sheepish look that had followed the comment, as if he hadn't wanted to say it like that. Craig honestly wasn't sure what to make of it all. And so he turned away and walked closer back to the fence.

Smart people didn't venture close to Craig. Close proximity to other people was not something he seemed to appreciate. So when he became aware of the hand reaching out towards him, Craig snapped around to face the offender. The naked man. He recoiled with obvious distaste. The bastard was still here. Here, and clearly very much uncomfortable with his nudity. But truly it was the fear in the man's eyes that made Craig start to pity him.

"Alright, alright. I believe you," he relented, exhaling heavily through his nose, but still glaring decisively at the stranger before him. That brought up another question. What to do with him? Obviously walking away would be fairly easy, but it seemed wrong to leave him standing here, lost and confused, alone. Craig would rather be caught dead than walking around with this naked little shit, though, and what would he do then? Break into a store and get some pants? There wasn't a place open yet.

"You've managed to look sorry enough to make me contemplate helping you. Congratulations," Craig muttered dryly. For obvious reasons, he didn't trust this stranger. Craig didn't know who the kid was, why he was here, or what the hell was going on. But it seemed that was the same questions this fellow had. By now it was apparent to Craig that walking away wasn't going to happen. So now it just had to come to figuring out this whole situation.

"I live right by here. There should be something you can wear there," he sighed, wishing he hadn't paid the man any mind and had instead continued walking into the graveyard. But he hadn't. He'd paid attention, he'd listened, and he'd pitied. That was his mistake. "But we need to hurry up. There's someone I need to help," Craig added, the fact that he was annoyed blatantly riddled throughout his voice. He didn't try to hide the fact that he wanted the stranger to go away, or that he felt the man was a nuisance. But he did feel minutely guilty about being so obviously hostile, and he soon attempted to calm the obviously panicked man down.

"Settle down. While I'm sure being naked in the middle of the street is a completely embarrassing and distressing circumstance, especially considering you're oblivious as to why you are here, I assure you the world isn't going to close in on you and swallow you up. And, as much of an enjoyable situation as it might be, I will refrain from causing you any harm," Craig coaxed, attempting to lock eyes with the other male once more.

The fact was, Craig was sure the man wasn't a bad guy. He didn't seem to have enough spine to even stick to his sarcastic remark, instead preferring to look away as if embarrassed or ashamed. He was likely just in a perplexing situation. There was really no reason for Craig to be rude to him, especially considering how afraid he seemed. Afraid, panicked, and confused. And the only person he could manage to find was Craig. Why was it always Craig stuck helping people? Twice with the stupid woman, now this nude man? Craig didn't even like people all that much. But he was always the one around. Always.

"One question, kid. Who are you? Do you at least know that?"

[Julian McAllister]

Anxiety made him want to interrupt, to jump up and down like a child and cheer, or to argue with the stranger's more audacious points. But jumping up and down seemed like a particularly bad idea and, obviously unarmed, this was no time to start an arguments, if arguments ever really had a time or place. So, ignoring both, the taller of the two young men just nodded his head enthusiastically and sighed, relieved. Honestly, he hadn't been expecting anything nearly so positive. Something about being approached by naked people usually seemed to turn most strangers away, especially when they were right in the middle of creeping around graveyards in the middle of the night... with coils of rope and deep, wrinkle-forming scowls on their faces. There was definitely something odd a foot, Julian could practically smell it in the air. But he was not in a position to criticize someone else for being odd, at least not at this point in time, if ever.

"Boy, we'd be in one hell of a pickle if I didn't, wouldn't we? God, that'd just be terrible." He laughed slightly, raising one hand to casually scratch at his nose, distracted by his light humor. If you could call it that. Honestly, imagining how completely fucked he'd be if all of his memories were gone was not even a lycan's idea of humor. "Yes, no... Julian. Junior. The Second. Whatever. Honestly, you could call me 'numb nuts' all night and I wouldn't be inclined to argue. I appreciate the helping hand far too much."

There was another light hearted shrug. Though clearly nervous and out of sorts, Julian's composure remained remarkably intact for the most part, or at least seemed to recover quickly. He still spoke quickly with that annoyingly posh accent of his, but his tone was light, peppered with laughter and lacking all sorts of seriousness, as though the thought of being arrested for indecent exposure hadn't even occurred to him. It had, but he'd decided being naked in police custody was better than being naked in public just before the morning rush hour commute started. Following a strange man to his apartment in an alien part of New York City was even more promising however, and he'd never thought he'd admit to that.

Still trying to maintain some idea of casual, the lycan paused briefly to give the nearby area a thorough glance, noticing with a raised eyebrow that they were standing on the sidewalk alone.

"...Where is this friend that you mentioned?"

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[Craig Bennett]

If possible, the already deep scowl that rested upon Craig's face deepened. Everything about this so-called 'Julian' positively radiated obnoxiousness and a certain incompatibility with Craig. There was no way he'd be able to stand more than a few minutes alone with this blithe stranger, once again leaving him to question his choice to bring Julian to his house. At least this way it'd be over with quickly. He just wanted the kid to shut up, and then everything would be fine.

"Alright, Julian. I'm Craig. My friend is in the graveyard, and isn't quite dead yet, so I'd prefer if we could hurry the fuck up so that I don't have to go buy a headstone for her. Don't want to waste the money," he grumbled, yawning and starting to walk at a brisk pace towards his house. Craig was tired. He was ready to sleep and just leave Jill out there, but knew that when she finally managed to scrabble out of there, she would kill him if he did so.

Tiredness could affect people in different ways. For a large portion of the human population, the absence of a good night's rest often meant an on-edge, irritable, and generally unpleasant attitude. For Craig, however, it made him more benign. Granted, he still possessed his usual grumpiness, as had been apparent throughout this whole affair, but his attitude was far less severe than it would have been if he was fully awake. He was like a hibernating bear. One just had to be careful not to poke him too many times, or he could wake up.

He barely felt himself walking up to his apartment, putting his key in, and turning the lock. The lights were already on, revealing a fairly small and simple space that, at first glance, was startlingly clean, as if someone kept up with it rather meticulously. There was nothing amiss on the floor. It was then that one would notice the amount of dust on things. It was not that someone was keeping up with things. It was that his things likely hadn't been touched in a long time, including his television set, which rested sadly in a corner, not even plugged in, and his enormous bookshelf, filed with books he'd been given but never had read. The only things that appeared to have been moved recently were about five books by his bed, a book that looked to have been tossed across the room in a moment of exasperation, and the covers on his bed. It was immediately apparent that he did not spend much of his time here.

"Motherfucking nudist. Why the hell do I bother with these fucking people?," Craig grumbled to himself, yawning as he sluggishly dragged himself over to the dresser and took out a set of clothes. That bastard better have followed him. Otherwise Craig would voluntarily dive off of that cliff himself. At least then he'd get some rest.

((I won't be able to post until Sunday evening, to possibly Monday morning. Sorry. Going camping with my family.))