Dew (open)

[Julian McAllister]

The lycan's clear and very obvious uncertainty remained intact upon his facial features, but it's focus was quickly shifting in the air before him. First from himself, weary of the lies he knew he would have to tell at some point, the story that he would have to fabricate into some weird sort of half truth. Then, those eyes flew to the dark figure standing before him, drenched in the shadows of an overhead street lap, which was only slightly necessary illumination in the dull overcast atmosphere. The hunter's demeanor had turned stony again. Had he noticed? How could he have? Julian had hardly begun to do any sort of manipulating of the truth and so far had only told a mere fragment of an otherwise true story. Somehow, that was all that he needed to do. Craig changed the subject and their attention was drawn away, to some faraway place or thing that could not be seen, or heard, or really sensed. It was simply felt, like a flavor or an odor in the air. The space around them foamed with it, buzzed with it, leaving Julian grasping his biceps softly in an attempt to calm the goosebumps a chilling breeze seemed to have called.

Whatever the animal was- a dog, a wolf, a big freaking unicorn, Julian really didn't honestly care much in the end. What did matter, was that the beast was still out there somewhere, and probably nearby. In fact, what if it was waiting? Crouched in the bushes just beyond the cliff, watching them with its cold eyes as they attempt to rescue the third member of their party. What if it wanted a three-course meal specifically? Was waiting to get its chance?

He looked down at the knife skeptically, studying its details as though it were a book or ancient artifact written in a language that required deciphering, silently deciding whether or not it was worth having. Immediately, he was stabbed by a bolt of guilt that refused to accept the taking of both Craig's pants and his knife. Besides, what would his mother think of him carrying around weapons? Fighting and stabbing until someone- or something, one might suppose, ended up dead and bleeding on the floor. It all seemed like too much, like it was all too ridiculous to be true and certainly too ridiculous to actually do. But, even as these concerns caused his heart to slam into the back of his sternum, Julian reached out and took the blade by its hilt from the burly hands of Craig. He paused once he had it, turning the item over and over again in his hands.

It was something like a 6 or 8 inch dagger, made of flawless metal that was beautifully cut and shaped. The hilt was bound in a reddish leather, straps of which hung off of the bottom for decoration. There was a small wolf-like logo carved into the dagger's base. Though he raised his eyebrows noticeably, Julian again, stopped himself from saying anything about it. Instead, he looked up and nodded pleasantly, as thought they weren't having a conversation about fighting for their lives in a few minutes.

"Don't worry. Feral dogs, black bears, lunatic clowns from mars, I don't even care who or what they are anymore- I'm not interested in facing any of them unarmed." He paused to nod appreciatively before turning to the familiar hole in the similarly familiar fence, the motorcycle still parked neatly beside it. "Let's go get your friend and get out of here."

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[Craig Bennett]

"Good," responded Craig simply, a slight smile lifting his features. Though he was obviously anxious about an encounter with a werewolf, especially when his life wasn't the only one being placed on the line, it was clear that he was quite possibly eager about one, too. There was a glint in his eyes akin to the dark, sharp gaze of a predatory animal. One couldn't be a good hunter without the drive to kill, in his opinion. You couldn't just wake up and decide to kill something that had once been human, or still partially was. You had to have the spine. And that was one thing Craig prided himself in having.

With a nod to Julian, the hunter moved forward toward the hole in the fence and once again scolded himself for being so foolish as to trying to climb the slick, smooth, iron fence. Putting the rope over one shoulder, Craig pulled out his gun, cocked it, and aimed it forward as he moved slowly and cautiously through the graveyard. The light was enough that he didn't stumble or trip over headstones as he had the first time. It was a relief to him that he didn't see a werewolf lurking behind the headstones in his immediate vicinity, meaning that it likely had not been camping right by the hole to wait for him to come back, but he still eyed the shadows and bushes with considerable wariness.

Craig knew to follow the fence line as he had done before, but beyond that, he was afraid he could not recall in much detail how to get back. Luckily enough, it was not terrifically difficult, as cliffs can be a pretty hard thing to miss. It did not take long to get to the rocky edge of the cliff, and it would only be a matter of following it to Jill now. Hopefully she wasn't bleeding out, hadn't broken anything, and wasn't eaten. He was pretty sure none of those things had happened, so what he was mostly worrying about was the beast that still could be out here.

"Hopefully the thing's gone," Craig grumbled to himself, sighing and plodding onward, keeping his eyes on the drop-off and occasionally glancing up at the dark bushes that were to his right. And finally, a little farther up, he saw the ledge that she was on. He didn't quite see her yet, but she was probably fine. She always seemed to be alright at the end of her little escapades.

"You still alive down on that ledge, or did your stupidity finally catch up with you?" he called out, and then thought of Julian. "And I brought someone else to laugh at your predicament. Thought you'd appreciate knowing," Craig added, and stepped forward towards the ledge and the edge of the cliff. He smiled as he saw that Jillian was, in fact, not dead. Suddenly he thought to himself how interesting it would be if she was. Obviously it would be sad, but the fact that Craig could have been talking to a dead woman was remotely amusing. "You seen anything of that werewolf since I've been gone?"

[Jillian Moore]

It had taken too long. Far too long. Jillian had curled up into a ball on the ledge. She was cold. While Craig was gone, she did a quick once over. She had several cuts on her arms and face. Her jeans were ripped by rocks. The blood flowed freely, but not profusely. She was pretty sure she'd pulled a muscle or two in her desperate scramble down, but aside from those things, she was still alright. It was a miracle, to say the least. Jillian sat, scolding herself for her choices that morning. More, she scolded everything. Craig for taking so long, the damned grey furred and blue eyed beast, and this whole predicament.

However, as she sat, Jillian began to realize something. The wolf couldn't have been a traditional changer. The Lycan wouldn't have been caught dead out here. Or, so she assumed. It seemed to be a pretty poorly hidden secret that the Hunters congregated here. Memorial Island was a death wish for any well learned Lycan. So, it seemed that her attacker was not a normal attacker. The wolf was a newly changed wolf.

The revelation was quick. Within the first ten minutes of waiting. It seemed to take about half an hour afterwards that the revelation. The wolf couldn't have gone too far. She hoped that it had changed back after it left. Memorial Island was the perfect place to hunt. She'd just follow whomever was nearby the cemetery. Patience. She had the resources to determine who was who. All she needed was names and she could drill family members and friends about strange changes in behavior.

Craig was finally back. He was yelling something, but she didn't hear him. Jillian had been dozing off. She glanced up the cliff, scowling in the early morning sunlight. "I haven't seen a goddamned thing. Pretty funny, taking your fucking time to get here. I'm sure I'll have a good laugh once I get up there, but please. Spare me your laughter until then, Craig." She spat angrily. Jillian stood up and brushed at her rear end, trying to free some of her body from the dirt that now clung desperately to her.

"Just throw me the goddamned line so I can get off this cliff. I'll have to take a bath in hydrogen peroxide. I've got cuts all over my body," It was then that it occurred to her that Craig had said that he brought someone else. From the way he had said it, she assumed that it was not, indeed, another Hunter. Why had the grizzled man picked up someone else? It wasn't like he would need much help. Jillian would most likely end up doing all of the work anyway. Craig seemed to work that way. At least, in her previous experience with the man. He always seemed to begrudge helping.

"Craig, you're an idiot. A fucking idiot. Did it ever occur to you that we might have a bit of a problem with another person around? If our friendly neighborhood dog shows up, what are you gonna do with them? Throw them down to me and hope I catch while you struggle to stand your own against the beast? Goddamn. You never think do you? After all of your years on this earth, I would have thought that you would have become just a slight bit thoughtful, or at least careful. I hope whomever you found just so happens to be made of the same stuff as every other Hunter, because I'm quite certain the dog didn't get far from here. Don't assume that they'd stray too far from a prey sighting."

[Julian McAllister]

Julian followed the shorter man into the foggy expanse of grass and headstones like a fawn following its mother. While Craig stepped lightly, crouched wearily with weapon drawn, Julian practically blundered behind him by comparison. His bare feet crunched loudly through the tall grass and he stumbled every few steps when a rock would jam itself between his toes, or a grave marker would stop his steps short suddenly. It wasn't all that difficult to see in the morning light, it wasn't darkness that hindered his steps, but distraction, a raw terror that gripped his bones and had his eyes constantly scanning the trees and nearby foliage, rather than watching the path ahead for obstacles. In hind sight, it was probably not even worth the effort of search. Circles of shadows run endlessly under groves of trees, darkened by the storm clouds overhead that threatened to pour foul weather upon them in any of the coming moments. Anything that was hiding within was far beyond his mortal range of sight, but still blue eyes scanned the area wearily, squinting into every dark patch and every place doused in thick fog as though expecting it to burst alive with hellfire and rage.

So distracted was he by the raw instinct to keep his eyes to the trees, he didn't even notice when they came to a stop beside a steep drop off and a third voice joined the airwaves. At least not initially. But something about a long raging tirade can pull anyone from the depths of distraction and, eventually, Julian's weary gaze found itself back to the hard lines of the hunter's stern face. Sarcastically, he quirked an eyebrow.

"My my, isn't she a peach?" He muttered quietly to Craig before stepping forward to see this strange friend of his for himself. A young woman sat in a heap on a ledge a short ways down, glaring up at them angrily from beneath tendrils of long, blonde hair. Her otherwise flawless skin was nicked and scratched a few places, but she otherwise appeared no worse for wear, allowing the friendly lycan to raise one of his long, slender hands in a meek wave, meeting her scowling face with his own pleasantly oblivious smile. "Hello. Terribly sorry about that wait, that was entirely my fault. Doesn't seem like a terribly comfortable place to spend it either. What say we get you out of there, yes?"

Though Julian used the term 'we' rather deliberately, he very casually hooked his thumbs into the slacked elastic of his only article of clothing- the dark grey sweatpants he'd swiped from the hunter's home. He still clutched that little dagger in one hand, refusing to untangle it from his fingers for even the briefest of moments. Not that it would do him much good against a wild animal, regardless of type. But its presence was comforting, and he casually used an index finger to twist the leather laces as he idled, more than willing to help Craig if he was needed, but clearly expecting the older gentleman to take the lead. After all, he was the one with the rope.

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[Craig Bennett]

"Cats and dogs don't bite the hand of the master that feeds them. Why is that, Jill? Because they know their master is the one in control of their life and death. Similarly, it'd be wise if you didn't snap at me so much, particularly when I carry the means to do you in, and also the means with which I shall get you out," Craig snapped sharply in response to Jillian, but turned away from her and took the rope off of his back. He glanced up at Julian and snorted as the werewolf remarked something about her being a peach, which Craig took to have been said in a sarcastic manner.

"And, by the way, this other person, whose name is Julian, is armed. With one of my weapons. If he dies, then he dies. If not, then he doesn't. He won't be a problem. And you can't call me an idiot, not when you're the one who decided to run off a cliff," he added, sighing and moving towards the nearby headstones, taking the rope with him as he tugged against them, seeing how strong they were. Finding one that satisfied him, Craig tied a tight knot, one that was often used in climbing and looked like a double-wide figure eight, and walked the rope towards the edge of the cliff, where he dropped the reaming length down to the ledge where Jillian was.

"Alright, Julian, we're going to need to hold the rope so that if the headstone doesn't hold, she doesn't drop," Craig ordered, getting farther back by the line of rope and kneeling down to hold the rope tightly, prepared to take the full weight of Jill if he needed to. Looking hesitantly back at the shadows that he knew could hide a beast waiting to make a meal out of them, he sighed and supposed that he had no other choice than to turn his back on the bushes and trees. It wasn't as if he had a third arm that he could aim at the woods, and there was no way he was going to give Julian his gun.

Jill had stung him, though he'd never let her know it. She'd called him old. Of course, Craig wasn't foolish enough to trick himself into believing that he was twenty, but he didn't think he was truly that old. Honestly, he looked older than he was, mostly because of the experiences he'd had, and also the wrinkles the near-constant scowl on his face created. But he didn't particularly like acknowledging his age, for though his body was old, his mind still felt young, and the realization that half your life is gone can be a terrible thing. But Craig's pride was strong, and there was no way he'd let Jill know that she'd actually made a slight dent in his pride.

"I threw down the rope, Jill. Now you climb up. May I repeat how obscenely lucky you are that I happened to see you heading out here? And how immensely moronic of you it was to go out here in the first place?"

[Jillian Moore]

Jillian held her tongue. It was getting difficult to do so, around Craig. She didn't know who awaited her up there, but she had had a glimpse of him. Tall, dark haired, and no doubt terrified of what ever they happened to be talking about at that point in time. Craig was a fool. He called her a fool, and yet here he was bringing in a new kid, who appeared to be shirtless and obviously was confused about what was going on. Why was the man shirtless? That was certainly suspicious. Perhaps, more so than the fact that Jillian had been in a cemetery in the early morning hours.

Considering that Jillian was looking for suspicious, she made a note to find this young man after their encounter. She didn't know what he'd been doing, but being shirtless and forced into helping Craig with something was more than enough to raise Jillian's suspicions. Maybe the man had been simply jogging in the early morning around Memorial Island. She liked to do that. If that was the situation, then Jillian promised herself that she would smack Craig good for this. Recruiting a jogger to help... How much did he think that she weighed?

Jillian scowled deeply and approached the rope as it was tossed out towards her. She caught it in mid air and tested the strength, delighting in the idea of pulling Craig off of the cliff too. She didn't know how they had worked out weighing down the rope, but she didn't care enough to ask. If it wasn't done properly, then so be it. Most likely, she'd simply fall back down onto the ledge and she'd moan and groan and howl at Craig to bring someone else. And, everything would be fine.

Jillian scowled deeply at the rocky cliff. It was clear to her now why the wolf hadn't followed her at all. He was smart in his animal way. Jillian had gotten into the habit of referring to the wolves as males, but she realized that this wasn't necessarily true. It was just easier to acclimate to. She wasn't foolish for jumping off of the side of the cliff, however. It had been the only course of action, honestly. There was no way she would have been able to out run the wolf, and there was no way she would have stood half a chance against the wolf in hand to hand combat. She only had a bit of silver on her today.

Jillian grabbed the rope and glowered up the cliff. "May I repeat to you how obscenely lucky you are that I'm not within arm's length of you right now?" She said loudly. Without waiting for the okay to go, she started the climb. The rocks slipped beneath her feet, leaving her gasping as she struggled to regain her footing. This climb would be more perilous than she had expected at first. One more slip like that and she'd be just as dead as if she had missed the ledge in the first place.

[Julian McAllister]

It was difficult to find the banter between the two hunters terribly amusing. They bickered and spat at each other like two overzealous dogs, playing so roughly that an unintelligent observer might consider it a fight. Supposedly, that is just how cold-hearted rough people are- biting and sarcastic, each with their own reasons. He'd met quite a few in his time, New York City seemed to have no shortage of them, but they always made him wonder all the same. People never seemed to be born with that kind of demeanor, like a plant, it always seemed to grow from a seed planted somewhere dark and brooding, sprouting from the kinds of events mankind was never meant to witness. Craig had mentioned something like that, come to think of it, a brother and in-law whose lives had to be cut short. That kind of thing was probably sufficient enough to chill a man to his core, yes.

Julian had to blink a few times to snap himself out of his train of thought, and probably would've apologized for his dilly-dallying had the timing been appropriate. But Craig had a plan that needed explaining and, instead, the lycan chose to listen, eying first the rope and then its stone anchor somewhat wearily before stepping forward to assist, as he had promised to. He had to grin toothily when he realized how fortunate a promise that had been. He'd had no idea how exactly this friend was in trouble, and had honestly been expecting something terribly mundane like a sprained ankle or perhaps moving furniture or something like that. What this woman must have been doing out here to warrant leaping to her near death, he hadn't the foggiest guess, but he found himself in silent appreciation despite it all. He'd been very prepared for an awkward time of attempting to help someone with something they didn't really need help with. Craig was a solidly built guy, he probably could've handled the rescue on his own. But lifting a full grown woman from a cliffside was definitely better with more people rather than fewer, so, though Julian had done nothing but kneel beside the hunter and grip the rope in his hands expectantly, he still felt oddly useful.

As he waited for this 'Jill' person to climb her way to safety, Julian took his time to peer about at the shadows on the edges of the stone-littered field, lifting an eyebrow almost expectantly at them as he searched for any signs of life. There were none, thankfully, not even a squirrel or a pigeon dared to shuffle about in the grass thanks to the oncoming storm. Good thing too. Had anything shifted a bush or rustled a tree branch in the early morning air, he would've had a god damned heart attack, especially with the safety of the dagger he'd been given now laying a few inches away in the tall grass by his feet.

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[Craig Bennett]

It had occurred to Craig that, as idiosyncratic as this situation was, the most intriguing thing about it was the people themselves. Jill, out in a graveyard so early in the morning, with her reason for doing as such unbeknownst to anyone but herself. Julian, found naked on the street unable to recall any good reason why. And Craig, drawn out here by his own inquisitiveness and accommodating these two for a reason unclear even to himself.

Though one couldn't call Craig helpful, he seemed to chance upon instances where his aid was called upon. And even considering that every moment spent with him was filled with glares and biting remarks, this querulous man still seemed to end up doing the right thing in the end and, even as distasteful as his attitude could be, he often proved to be trustworthy when it really counted. Craig would be damned if he let Jill fall to her death today.

Everything seemed to be going smoothly. She grabbed the rope, tested it, and then started climbing. But only moments after she did so, Craig was able to hear the scrabbling of her feet against the cliff face and the shocked gasp of someone who had nearly just fallen. With genuine concern forming inside of him, Craig tightened his grip and held his breath for a moment before relaxing and exhaling deeply. "You should have tied the rope around your waist. Just try and not do that again, alright?" he asked, though he was fairly positive that she'd not try and fall again on purpose. After all, as far as he knew, Jill wasn't suicidal or anything. Craig wasn't sure she'd be able to prevent that happening again, and after falling onto the ledge in the first place, she was probably tired. It would be best if she didn't have to try and hold on as well as try to climb up. "Now look, you just work on holding onto the damned thing, and me and Julian here will drag you up."

The wiry texture of the rope quickly wore into the rough palms of Craig's hands as his grip contracted yet again, turning the knuckles on his fisted hand bone white. His mouth pulled into a straight, discontent and vaguely determined, line and his usual scowl was, for once, not directed at anyone in particular, but rather at the situation itself. The hunter stood up now and dug his feet in the ground as he pulled the rope towards himself, giving himself enough slack to loop the rope tightly around his palms. Taking a deep breath, he glanced back at Julian for a moment.

"Julian, you're going to back me up. Make sure there's no slack between you and me, and keep the slack of the rope out of our way as we pull her up. Okay?" Craig asked evenly, the austere look in his eyes directed at the werewolf. Turning his head back towards the cliff, he gritted his teeth and readied himself to take a strong pull. "Jill, we're going to drag you up now, alright? Are you fine with that?"