Toxic Valentine[Werewolves]

[sydelle]

This has got to be it. Sydelle thought, picking her way through the filth. She'd been in town two weeks and she hadn't come across a single werewolf. Humans, vampires, mutants, elementals, even the occasional demon, but not a single werewolf. It wasn't until someone mentioned the lycanthropes living underground that it even occured to her she was looking in the wrong place. It made perfect sense, when she thought about it. Afterall, who would want to live in the same place as vampires?

She stopped and took a deep breath through her nose. There was the overwhelming stench everyone acquainted with the sewer. But there was something underneath it. She was just beginning to recognize the scent of her own kind, but she was willing to bet she was on the right track. And, if she was correct, the trail wasn't that old. There'd been someone down here within the last day. Whether they were still here or not was the question. She knew how to get a concrete answer to that question, although she hated it. Not that it mattered. She sucked at shifting at will. Although she was getting pretty good at repressing it.

She froze when she heard a sound up ahead. She kept to the wall, moving as silently as possible. She was positive the sound had been a footstep. But with the echo in the sewer, it was nearly impossible to tell exactly how far ahead the sound had come from. The minimal light coming from topside was enough for her to see, but she still didn't like the darkness. She wasn't a vampire.

She was caught between the hope of finding a pack and the fear of being let down. She'd run without one for decades now, surviving the apocalypse all on her own. She still wasn't sure why she had this sudden urge to find someone else. Instinct to mate? Hardly. She hadn't felt that urge since turning. Was she just lonely? Improbable, but not impossible. While she hated the majority of the population, especially the vampires, there was a small part of her that wondered what it would be like to be around people she didn't hate.

She broke into a silent run, avoiding the puddles of unnameable goo, until she saw a figure in the distance. She skidded to a halt and took a deep breath, again through her nose. Werewolf. They were standing in a darker corner, so she couldn't tell gender. She stopped and just stood there. She realized she hadn't come up with anything to say. Well crap.

[dmitrius]

Feeling the need to get away from some of the annoying lessers in the pack, Dmitrius was headed to the surface once more. This time he intended to bring back some of the usual items. A couple of cartons of cigarettes, or pouches of tobacco to roll his own, not to mention a bottle or two of choice alcohol. The crafty wolf had been a theif for all of his life, and was the go-to guy for items that were hard to find.

His two addictions meant he was determined to get some himself, but taking extra meant he could sell it to other pack members, and sometimes even one or two humans who had the credits to pay for it.

The old dog was trudging through the sewers, avoiding the puddles and small streams of the most foul smelling liquids that his sensetive nostrils had ever caught wind of. Dmitrius had thought that he would grow to tolerate the scent, but even after years of trying he was greeted day by day with the same disgust.

In the distance he heard a small splash and was suddenly on guard. To his knowledge no other members of Lukias' pack were above ground at that moment, which meant that he was faced with a stranger. He pulled out a cigar, a rare find in the city these days, and lit up, taking slow, cautious steps toward the source of the noise. He was in darkness now, whoever it was would be unable to see him.

As she stopped, now in full view of the native californian he blew out smoke and gave a toothy grin.

"What's a pretty little kitten like you doin' in a place like this, eh?" He stepped into the light, his hulkingly muscular frame cloaked by a large, black leather jacket, his hair a mess and his appearance all-ariund unkempt. Dmitrius puffed out some more smoke, his crooked grin baring his bright white teeth.

[sydelle]

A few things struck her about this guy off the bat. He had some seriously bad habits. In the previous world, grabbing a carton and lighting up occasionally was no big deal. But when you lived in a city that was as health-obsessed as a Pilates instructor, smoking was somewhat of a taboo. So to keep up the habit meant he was seriously into it. Going-crazy-if-he-didn't-get- nicotine into it. And she was the kind of person who would make him go cold turkey just for the heck of it.

The cutesy nickname wasn't endearing him to her by any means. She absolutely hated them. Ice Queen, Head Bitch, all were names she preferred. They described her quite well, actually. She'd long ago accepted her state as a bitter, cynical harpy. It made the guys keep away. Of course the one time she actually needed to be in a guy's good graces, he did one of the key things that ticked her off. This had better be worth it. She thought. If this guy was the leader of the pack, the deal was off.

The smoking, cutesy nickname, grin, and overall appearance combined meant one thing. She hated him. Yes, it was a strong word. It was a strong emotion. The arrogance reminded her of Chris, which was as low an insult as you could get in her book. Fortunately, she was no longer the jaded little human that had unknowingly decided to shack up with a werewolf. She was a werewolf herself, and not that young. She had no problem going head-to-head with this guy if the need arose.

"My name's Sydelle." She said, ignoring the nickname completely. "I've been rogue for about....well a few decades now." Hopefully, he would catch the hint. She wasn't some naive little girl. And this would go better for both of them if he understood that. "And, surprise, surprise, rogue isn't as much fun as it sounds." Her voice sounded bored. Mentally, she was trying to decide how high her chances were of finding another werewolf to talk to. Unfortunately, they didn't seem that high. So she kept talking. "You wouldn't happen to know about a pack around here, would you?" It was as casual and not-desperate as she could make it.