Aug 2, 2017 5:40:46 GMT
Post by Deleted on Aug 2, 2017 5:40:46 GMT
It was finally summer. Deimos stepped outside, squinting as he looked to the sun in the distance. “Welcome back.” He told it. It was a brisk 10 degrees at the moment, but it was something Deimos would just kind of let happen if he ended up freezing to death. Sure, he had managed to survive 17 years without killing himself, which was a record among most werevamp hybrids, but it didn’t mean he didn’t still try occasionally, or not fight the potential. The constant pain, the inevitable disabilities, it was a wonder vampires and werewolves let themselves ever fall in love with each other.
He was wandering a bit aimlessly, which wasn’t really a safe thing to do considering the researchers had gotten back about a week ago now, but he at least knew how to get back to the school. Playing hooky really wasn’t that easy when you lived at school. His foot stepped on a branch, and it made a loud sound, and suddenly there was a researcher staring at him.
“I don’t remember seeing you on the team.” The man said.
Deimos narrowed his eyes at the man, “I’m deaf.” He said, one hand pointing to an ear.
The man narrowed his eyes, “We definitely didn’t have a deaf member. Who are you? How did you get here?”
Deimos snarled, going rigid at the look the man had given him. A fang, longer than a human’s but not the length of a vampire’s, showed as he growled lowly.
The man paled as he noticed, seeming to have encountered a hybrid before. “You’re one of them.” He pulled out a rod, silver shining in the light of the sun.
It looked like some sort of tool for chipping at ice, but ultimately Deimos had no idea what it was. The man swung wildly at him, scratching his shoulder in the process.
Deimos didn’t remember anything after that, but he knew when he came to, there was blood everywhere. The man was dead. What happened? He looked down at his hands, shaking as he saw they were covered in blood. He had been cut, and then… nothing. He didn’t technically “wake up,” though. He had been awake and conscious the entire time, or so he believed. He felt like he had lost consciousness. He had never had a true psychotic break. He’d had lapses in judgement, but never blackout rage. He could smell one of the other students coming up, but they seemed to notice the scene and then their scent was disappearing again.
His mind started racing. He’d be expelled for sure. He’d have to go back to the human world, where if he was lucky he’d rot in jail for the rest of his life. If he wasn’t as lucky… His knees seemed to buckle from underneath him. His type was infamously known among supernaturals and humans alike. Humans were told to avoid people like him. Taught as warnings. The second he showed his face in his hometown, they’d probably chase him away, He once again smelled someone coming up, this time accompanied by the familiar scent of the headmaster. He was still frozen to his spot, still looking at his hands, his whole body shaking.
The rest of the day had seemed like a blur, but at least he could remember it. The headmaster had taken him to wash off before bringing him into his office, asked him to have a seat, and then gave him some hot cider, a blanket, patched up his shoulder, and waited with a patient gaze. In time, Deimos finally opened the floodgates, saying how he was noticed by the researcher, but the guy got too curious, and he was gearing for a fight, but then… he only remembered red. So much blood. And then the headmaster came. The teen was crying, still shaking, still looking at his hands like the blood was still all over them.
The headmaster kept a level head, telling him would be taking a break from classes - not straight up calling it suspension, but the word seemed like it was floating in the air, until further notice.
Deimos knew he got off lucky. He’d hang out in the rec room, watching people talk about him. Give him a wide berth, as if the entire table he was sitting at was poisonous. He saw the word ‘mutt’ uttered towards him more times than he could count. The more students avoided him, the more he withdrew, angry and bitter and sad.
He already had a hard enough time making friends before this. Now even the few people that would interact with him weren’t even talking to him. The few other werevamp hybrids in the school cursed his name, telling him he’d definitely ruined their reputations now.
Not like they had any better of a reputation than he had prior to the murder.
Word spread fast, especially with that juicy of gossip, and by the end of the week, he was ignored and avoided at all costs.
So it was that much more surprising when he nearly ran down a young girl. Everyone, even people not paying attention to where he was, managed to avoid him. He snarled at the girl, “Watch where you’re going.” He kept walking, but she caught up to him.
“Hey, I was calling you.” She said, a stubborn look on her face.
“What?” He growled to her, and she instantly shrunk away, the stubbornness seeming gone.
No, no, no, I’m tired of people being afraid of me. I’m sorry. He thought, though he only bit his lip and didn’t actually say anything right away. “Sorry. I’m deaf.” He said simply.
Rosalind was still growing into her powers, and even though the older man had frightened her momentarily, she knew he hadn’t meant to. She realized he had started walking again, and she had to run to catch up to him. She tapped his shoulder.
Deimos turned around, an initial snarl on his face, seeming ready to fight whoever was bothering him, but his face softened as he realized it was just her again. “Whaaat?” He whined to her.
“Um well, you see, you actually ran into me, so you should be the one to say sorry.” Rosalind said, seeming like she was shrinking into herself.
“Sorry.” Deimos said simply.
At that moment, one of Rosalind’s friends pulled her aside, looking at Deimos like she was ready to fight to protect her friend. “You don’t want to hang out with that mutt, he’s really dangerous.”
“No he’s not.”
“Rosalind you haven’t been here long enough to know, but he’s the one the rumors are talking about.” Her friend warned.
Rosalind shook her head, getting her friend to let go of her, and caught up to Deimos a third time. “I don’t think you’re dangerous.” She told him before forgetting he was deaf. He seemed intent on ignoring her. She huffed, puffing out her cheeks and pouting. Again, her psychic powers chose to have a mind of it’s own, and she was flooded with a feeling of loneliness. There was only one person it could’ve belonged to, the teen in front of her, seeming to tolerate her presence long enough to find something in his bag. She tapped his shoulder, repeating her prior words, “I don’t think you’re dangerous.”
“That’s nice kid.” Deimos replied monotonously.
Rosalind rolled her eyes. He was a tough one, but she had made up her mind: she was going to be his friend, no matter how much he pretended to hate it.
Tags: Rosalind Neveah Bonner
He was wandering a bit aimlessly, which wasn’t really a safe thing to do considering the researchers had gotten back about a week ago now, but he at least knew how to get back to the school. Playing hooky really wasn’t that easy when you lived at school. His foot stepped on a branch, and it made a loud sound, and suddenly there was a researcher staring at him.
“I don’t remember seeing you on the team.” The man said.
Deimos narrowed his eyes at the man, “I’m deaf.” He said, one hand pointing to an ear.
The man narrowed his eyes, “We definitely didn’t have a deaf member. Who are you? How did you get here?”
Deimos snarled, going rigid at the look the man had given him. A fang, longer than a human’s but not the length of a vampire’s, showed as he growled lowly.
The man paled as he noticed, seeming to have encountered a hybrid before. “You’re one of them.” He pulled out a rod, silver shining in the light of the sun.
It looked like some sort of tool for chipping at ice, but ultimately Deimos had no idea what it was. The man swung wildly at him, scratching his shoulder in the process.
Deimos didn’t remember anything after that, but he knew when he came to, there was blood everywhere. The man was dead. What happened? He looked down at his hands, shaking as he saw they were covered in blood. He had been cut, and then… nothing. He didn’t technically “wake up,” though. He had been awake and conscious the entire time, or so he believed. He felt like he had lost consciousness. He had never had a true psychotic break. He’d had lapses in judgement, but never blackout rage. He could smell one of the other students coming up, but they seemed to notice the scene and then their scent was disappearing again.
His mind started racing. He’d be expelled for sure. He’d have to go back to the human world, where if he was lucky he’d rot in jail for the rest of his life. If he wasn’t as lucky… His knees seemed to buckle from underneath him. His type was infamously known among supernaturals and humans alike. Humans were told to avoid people like him. Taught as warnings. The second he showed his face in his hometown, they’d probably chase him away, He once again smelled someone coming up, this time accompanied by the familiar scent of the headmaster. He was still frozen to his spot, still looking at his hands, his whole body shaking.
The rest of the day had seemed like a blur, but at least he could remember it. The headmaster had taken him to wash off before bringing him into his office, asked him to have a seat, and then gave him some hot cider, a blanket, patched up his shoulder, and waited with a patient gaze. In time, Deimos finally opened the floodgates, saying how he was noticed by the researcher, but the guy got too curious, and he was gearing for a fight, but then… he only remembered red. So much blood. And then the headmaster came. The teen was crying, still shaking, still looking at his hands like the blood was still all over them.
The headmaster kept a level head, telling him would be taking a break from classes - not straight up calling it suspension, but the word seemed like it was floating in the air, until further notice.
Deimos knew he got off lucky. He’d hang out in the rec room, watching people talk about him. Give him a wide berth, as if the entire table he was sitting at was poisonous. He saw the word ‘mutt’ uttered towards him more times than he could count. The more students avoided him, the more he withdrew, angry and bitter and sad.
He already had a hard enough time making friends before this. Now even the few people that would interact with him weren’t even talking to him. The few other werevamp hybrids in the school cursed his name, telling him he’d definitely ruined their reputations now.
Not like they had any better of a reputation than he had prior to the murder.
Word spread fast, especially with that juicy of gossip, and by the end of the week, he was ignored and avoided at all costs.
So it was that much more surprising when he nearly ran down a young girl. Everyone, even people not paying attention to where he was, managed to avoid him. He snarled at the girl, “Watch where you’re going.” He kept walking, but she caught up to him.
“Hey, I was calling you.” She said, a stubborn look on her face.
“What?” He growled to her, and she instantly shrunk away, the stubbornness seeming gone.
No, no, no, I’m tired of people being afraid of me. I’m sorry. He thought, though he only bit his lip and didn’t actually say anything right away. “Sorry. I’m deaf.” He said simply.
Rosalind was still growing into her powers, and even though the older man had frightened her momentarily, she knew he hadn’t meant to. She realized he had started walking again, and she had to run to catch up to him. She tapped his shoulder.
Deimos turned around, an initial snarl on his face, seeming ready to fight whoever was bothering him, but his face softened as he realized it was just her again. “Whaaat?” He whined to her.
“Um well, you see, you actually ran into me, so you should be the one to say sorry.” Rosalind said, seeming like she was shrinking into herself.
“Sorry.” Deimos said simply.
At that moment, one of Rosalind’s friends pulled her aside, looking at Deimos like she was ready to fight to protect her friend. “You don’t want to hang out with that mutt, he’s really dangerous.”
“No he’s not.”
“Rosalind you haven’t been here long enough to know, but he’s the one the rumors are talking about.” Her friend warned.
Rosalind shook her head, getting her friend to let go of her, and caught up to Deimos a third time. “I don’t think you’re dangerous.” She told him before forgetting he was deaf. He seemed intent on ignoring her. She huffed, puffing out her cheeks and pouting. Again, her psychic powers chose to have a mind of it’s own, and she was flooded with a feeling of loneliness. There was only one person it could’ve belonged to, the teen in front of her, seeming to tolerate her presence long enough to find something in his bag. She tapped his shoulder, repeating her prior words, “I don’t think you’re dangerous.”
“That’s nice kid.” Deimos replied monotonously.
Rosalind rolled her eyes. He was a tough one, but she had made up her mind: she was going to be his friend, no matter how much he pretended to hate it.
Tags: Rosalind Neveah Bonner
