Surveillance
Title: Surveillance
Author: Muninn
Story: Chicago Snow
Flavors:
Word Count: 847
Rating: PG-13, one F-bomb
Summary: Today I play around with first person again.
Notes: "You may be in a difficult position today, Leo, as if you're being pulled in two directions with little say as to how things are supposed to end. The acting forces could be manipulative, so you should take special care that no one takes advantage of you. This may be easier said than done at a time like this."
I woke up, mercifully in my apartment, after a long night of drinking and stories with Holl. The stories were...interesting, in sort of a Hansel and Gretel meet Dexter Morgan sort of way. The problem was, I didn't have a clue which one to believe. Holl had told me that one was the truth and the other a lie, and I needed to figure out which one was which. And apparently I needed to do so quickly, because I got the impression from him that time was running out.
I had redoubled my efforts to disguise the fact that I had contact with Snow, or Luke, or White, or whatever I was supposed to call him. I assumed I was being watched, that was kind of standard practice after all, and so I camped out under the bridge near his place with binoculars. I spotted him walking out in human form, and left my campsite to follow him on foot, careful to keep to the shadows and at a fair distance. He walked up Desplaines and took a left, entering the pool hall on the corner. So he was going bar hopping tonight, okay. I felt a rising sense of discomfort, although I could only guess why. I waited an hour for him to come out, then went in. Spotting him at the bar with an elf, I found a seat in the shadows near a pool game and ordered a beer, fending off advances from the guys there.
I dressed lightly, preparing for the chilly Chicago evening with just an button down shirt and jeans. I like the cold. I always have. It feels familiar and soothing, which makes summers here nearly unbearable. I've thought about living farther north, but I know they'll find me there faster. With fewer people around, I stand out more. Not many men have naturally white hair trailing down their back and are under the age of fifty. Well, at least, they don't look like they're under the age of fifty. I checked my pockets in a circular fashion - wallet, keys, chapstick, handkerchief - before heading out the door and down the stairs. The chill wind that came off the lake was delicious and I stood on the sidewalk savoring it a moment before I was tackled to the ground by a small punk girl.
I hadn't actually expected him to go out again so soon after getting sloshed the night before, but I guess a fast recovery was just another power to add to the checklist. He wasn't really the type to spend the night at home if he could help it, but as he stepped outside I really didn't expect that punk girl to tackle him out of nowhere. I couldn't really hear what she was saying, but she seemed really upset and kept looking over her shoulder. Shit, I thought with a tone of exasperation, one more complication I don't need.
"Ohmigod mister are you a'right?!"
I looked up at her, rubbing the back of my head. "Huh? Yeah, I'm okay-"
"Okay, can you, like, help me, like, right now?" She kept looking over her shoulder frantically, balancing herself on my lap. She seemed afraid of something chasing her. I smelled...nothing. She didn't smell like anything. Like she wasn't even there.
I sat up and grabbed her arm, looking straight into her bubblegum blue eyes that shimmered in the streetlights. "Who are you? What do you want?"
She muttered something, averting her eyes and then looked back at me. "Like, I really need some help here, babe. This dog thing is after me, and I think it can smell me--"
"No." I said sternly, with finality. "Nothing can smell you. So what the fuck are you playing at?"
She looked innocently at me, not a trace of guile on her face. "What do you mean? It's been following me for blocks, even tho I jumped over two fences and ran through a kitchen to get here. Please, you're the first friendly face I've seen tonight."
I rolled my eyes in frustration. "You don't smell like anything, not even like a person, so what are you? What do you want with me?"
She looked close to tears when I noticed Ashka's jackal form in the shadows beneath the bridge. She was telling the truth. "Please, I don't want that thing to get me!" She cried out at last, her pink mohawk shuddering with every sniffle.
"Okay, okay. Let's go inside and I'll make sure you're safe." I bolted out before I knew what I was saying. "What's your name?"
"Tricia, but everyone calls me Trixie." The girl snuffled into my white button-down shirt as I got us up to standing and watched Ashka carefully. She had her hackles up and teeth bared.
"You're going to be all right, Trixie." I said, patting her back and leading her into my apartment building.
Author: Muninn
Story: Chicago Snow
Flavors:
- Maple Walnut #16 (head over heels)
Word Count: 847
Rating: PG-13, one F-bomb
Summary: Today I play around with first person again.
Notes: "You may be in a difficult position today, Leo, as if you're being pulled in two directions with little say as to how things are supposed to end. The acting forces could be manipulative, so you should take special care that no one takes advantage of you. This may be easier said than done at a time like this."
I woke up, mercifully in my apartment, after a long night of drinking and stories with Holl. The stories were...interesting, in sort of a Hansel and Gretel meet Dexter Morgan sort of way. The problem was, I didn't have a clue which one to believe. Holl had told me that one was the truth and the other a lie, and I needed to figure out which one was which. And apparently I needed to do so quickly, because I got the impression from him that time was running out.
I had redoubled my efforts to disguise the fact that I had contact with Snow, or Luke, or White, or whatever I was supposed to call him. I assumed I was being watched, that was kind of standard practice after all, and so I camped out under the bridge near his place with binoculars. I spotted him walking out in human form, and left my campsite to follow him on foot, careful to keep to the shadows and at a fair distance. He walked up Desplaines and took a left, entering the pool hall on the corner. So he was going bar hopping tonight, okay. I felt a rising sense of discomfort, although I could only guess why. I waited an hour for him to come out, then went in. Spotting him at the bar with an elf, I found a seat in the shadows near a pool game and ordered a beer, fending off advances from the guys there.
I dressed lightly, preparing for the chilly Chicago evening with just an button down shirt and jeans. I like the cold. I always have. It feels familiar and soothing, which makes summers here nearly unbearable. I've thought about living farther north, but I know they'll find me there faster. With fewer people around, I stand out more. Not many men have naturally white hair trailing down their back and are under the age of fifty. Well, at least, they don't look like they're under the age of fifty. I checked my pockets in a circular fashion - wallet, keys, chapstick, handkerchief - before heading out the door and down the stairs. The chill wind that came off the lake was delicious and I stood on the sidewalk savoring it a moment before I was tackled to the ground by a small punk girl.
I hadn't actually expected him to go out again so soon after getting sloshed the night before, but I guess a fast recovery was just another power to add to the checklist. He wasn't really the type to spend the night at home if he could help it, but as he stepped outside I really didn't expect that punk girl to tackle him out of nowhere. I couldn't really hear what she was saying, but she seemed really upset and kept looking over her shoulder. Shit, I thought with a tone of exasperation, one more complication I don't need.
"Ohmigod mister are you a'right?!"
I looked up at her, rubbing the back of my head. "Huh? Yeah, I'm okay-"
"Okay, can you, like, help me, like, right now?" She kept looking over her shoulder frantically, balancing herself on my lap. She seemed afraid of something chasing her. I smelled...nothing. She didn't smell like anything. Like she wasn't even there.
I sat up and grabbed her arm, looking straight into her bubblegum blue eyes that shimmered in the streetlights. "Who are you? What do you want?"
She muttered something, averting her eyes and then looked back at me. "Like, I really need some help here, babe. This dog thing is after me, and I think it can smell me--"
"No." I said sternly, with finality. "Nothing can smell you. So what the fuck are you playing at?"
She looked innocently at me, not a trace of guile on her face. "What do you mean? It's been following me for blocks, even tho I jumped over two fences and ran through a kitchen to get here. Please, you're the first friendly face I've seen tonight."
I rolled my eyes in frustration. "You don't smell like anything, not even like a person, so what are you? What do you want with me?"
She looked close to tears when I noticed Ashka's jackal form in the shadows beneath the bridge. She was telling the truth. "Please, I don't want that thing to get me!" She cried out at last, her pink mohawk shuddering with every sniffle.
"Okay, okay. Let's go inside and I'll make sure you're safe." I bolted out before I knew what I was saying. "What's your name?"
"Tricia, but everyone calls me Trixie." The girl snuffled into my white button-down shirt as I got us up to standing and watched Ashka carefully. She had her hackles up and teeth bared.
"You're going to be all right, Trixie." I said, patting her back and leading her into my apartment building.