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 Posted: Fri Sep 03, 2010 3:33 pm
School hasn't even started yet, was his disgruntled thought as he ambled his way down the demon dorm hall. Since his arrival at Amityville, he has put his best efforts into avoiding large and social gatherings that the school community had to offer before classes came around. While he didn't mind the company of other people (especially those closer to his own age and mind-set), he wasn't particularly fond of pep rallies and the crowd that they usually brought. In fact, the mere thought of peppy and enthusiastic students surrounding his very body repulsed him.
Though, lucky for one Tristan Bailey, not many people would enjoy being near him either. A bad habit clung to his jacket and matted hair, a subtle scent that simply oozed out of the pores of his pale skin. He personally found the smell relaxing on days that he noticed, and it's quite possible that others would too, but for the majority? It's not uncommon to see people divide against his very presence. Whether or not he ever realized it was because of his stench, you'd never know, the way he owned the hallways as he carried on. Or so he presumed.
It was this smell that caused him to venture out of his safety den. Students began complaining to the dorm's resident advisor about a strange odor leaking from his personal dorm room. Upon further inspection from the RA, it was found that the wolf demon kept certain possessions up his sleeves, and it would no longer be tolerated for him to continue using them inside of the building. A few hours later found him climbing up the stairs, journeying to the only place he knew that could be empty so early in the afternoon.
A cool breeze hit Tristan's face as he opened the topmost door of the stair well and stepped outside. Dark clouds greeted his vision, the kind that if you aren't too careful you could become drenched within the hour without the proper gear. The scent of rain was strong, but his desire for one last drag was stronger; and besides, he wasn't straying far. He closed the door from behind and leaned against the concrete railing of the dorm's roof top. He reached into one of his sleeve's pockets and, to his dismay, found only a single rolled up piece of paper within the flimsy clear bag.
"Bloody Mary," He muttered before lighting the end and inhaling.
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Posted: Sat Sep 11, 2010 7:47 pm
Nuk hadn't been specifically looking for a smoke, although when his acutely sensitive wolf-nose found the scent wafting through the crisp, autumn air, it turned into exactly what he was looking for. In fact, the skinwalker had left the monster dorms to burn off energy, of which he had a surplus that needed getting rid of, lest he get dorm fever and tear up everything he owned again. It was as if he could not sit still in any skin for very long, even his own, a curse that seemed to haunt most animal shifters. There was a reason the fleshies had myths about Werewolves changing shape at the full moon, although it had less to do with time and more to do with the need to change shape. Although he couldn't speak for all skinwalkers, Nuk felt this burning impulse exponentially more frequently than most shifters, it seemed, perhaps attributed to how many forms he could take. If ever asked, he would most accurately describe it as being a drug. The ability was there, taunting you, reminding you of what you could do, where you could go. The feral nature of it was intoxicating.
Nukpana had changed shape nearly before he had exited the building, his cocky gait taking on a stiffness as he approached the doors, and by the time the door swung squeakily closed with a loud bang a black wolf stood in his wake, muscles tensing and rippling as he adjusted. It took the edge off, but not nearly enough, the itch to use the skin still strong. So he had taken off, starting as a slow walk, then a trot before exploding into a full run. It didn't matter where. He was just blowing off steam.
Or... smoke.
Which is how he ended up at the demon dorm hall.
The first faint scent of that tell-tale smoke made the skinwalker pause, stopping in his tracks. Although from the base of his ears to his nose there was nothing but bone, his head still swiveled in that direction, hollowed-out sockets seeing despite having no visible eyes, ears perked as if listening for another clue. Breathing in slowly again, he took in the faint smell, slowly stalking towards the hall, only shifting back to his human form when he was at it's doors. Demons. Hm. He didn't really have a good relationship with demons, although he couldn't say he had a good relationship with most. On a fundamental level, supposedly demons held monsters in low regard, although Nuk didn't care jack about that. He was confident if any students wanted to pick a fight, he could take them. Besides... he needed to find that scent. He pushed open the door.
Even with his fail human sense of smell, it wasn't hard to follow the trail leading upward, and he climbed the stairs until reaching the door to the roof, pushing it open and taking another, deep smell as the smoke hit him strong. The sight of Tristan hit him second to the scent, and Nuk let gold eyes wander over him appraisingly for a minute, not failing to notice the canine ears beneath the brown hair.
"Hey."
Letting the door close, the skinwalker hooked his thumbs in his pockets, lifting his chin a bit at the wolf demon as a gesture towards him.
"Got any more of that?"
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Interesting Conversationalist
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Posted: Tue Sep 28, 2010 7:54 am
Tristan had felt the thundering foot steps of the skinwalker dully vibrate against the wall he leaned on, though he thought nothing of it and leapt right back on his train of thought, his gaze fixed on the cloudy horizon. It wasn't until the door had swung open with such aggressive fervor that he bothered to flick a furry ear and give a long side-eyed glance towards the newcomer. He was hardly impressed with this stranger, who looked entirely too smug for someone who had meandered his way up the wrong roof top.
It was obvious to Tristan that the student standing before him was not apart of any demon heritage. He lacked the proper clothes and had a nearly frantic way of moving around, despite the cool composure he displayed with relaxed hands and a firm chin held high. He reeked of monster, and it was then that the wolf demon decided that the only thing he'd have in common with this sort of filth were the very furs they were wearing, and only this. Instead of rewarding the creature with a response, he instead took a long, slow drag of his ever decreasing blunt.
However, at Nuk's request, he cocked an eyebrow and turned his full attention to the skinwalker, blowing smoke tendrils through his nostrils in an almost-dramatic flare. Since his arrival to the Academy, he hadn't found a single other person who appreciated a good smoke, or even tolerated the smell (aside from a stray number found in his acceptance envelop). Wasn't this the entire reason of being on the roof to begin with?
"More of this?" Tristan repeated, raising the hand that held the rolled joint. "What's it to you? You goin' to report me to the RA? If that's the case, I would highly advice against it. I will make it my personal mission to tear you apart before you set a foot on a stair." His voice ended with a low, menacing growl. While it was more than likely that he had more in common with the skinwalker than he originally thought, he wasn't going to take any chances. He had already been warned once, and a second would procure dire consequences with his parents.
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