Dragging you Down - - Open - -

[Ryder Jessicka Carr]

Are the sins getting staler
Does every moment move past you
Or does it feel like forever
And shouldn't you be laughing too?

[/i]

Finally confident that she was deep enough into the old tunnels, Ryder collapsed heavily against the wall and inhaled deeply. There was something calming about the smell of cool, damp earth mixed in with the older, slightly faded scent of werewolves. She'd only been in London for a day, and as of yet had nowhere to stay. On the ground beside her she'd placed her backpack, which was so full the seams were about to split. Funny how she'd been able to put her whole life into a single backpack. Not that there'd been many things from her old life that she'd wanted to keep. Nothing but clothes. She'd burned all the pictures. Some memories were too painfull to revisit.

Take a look how they found you
Take a look what they've done to you now
What was it they wanted
Sullen and haunted?
If only you saw it coming

Ryder rested her head against the tunnel wall. What was she doing here? Her accent stood out like a sore thumb, she didn't know anyone and she had nowhere to go. She was alone. She didn't have much money either. Not that there were many things she needed to pay for, but a hotel room would have been nice. Well... a home would have been nicer, but that was oviously out of the question. Instead it seemed like this was where she was going to be staying, at least for now. It wasn't so bad. It was sheltered, for one. Fairly warm, and seemingly abandoned. It would suit her needs for now.

How far down would you fall
If you never came up again?
'Cause you're so sick of it all
And you want to change everything
Just how deep would you go
To see through it all?

[/i]

Ryder reached over to unzip her backpack and pull out her iPod. The earphones dangling from it had been taped up in several places, but they still worked faithfully. She pushed the earbuds into her ears and turned on the first song, her face lighting up with a grin. She got to her feet again, tapping her feet to the beat. She could go for a dance. Something to bring her mood up. As the song progressed she started to dance around, careful not to get too far away from her backpack. Just in case.

If you could consume her
Would you say you were finding your way out?
Is anything coming clearer
Smashing your mirror?
Still you can see you're guilty

[/i]

Ryder laughed. So she was alone. Broke. Homeless. At least she could still have fun on her own. That was important, wasn't it? Besides, other people were over-rated. Weren't they?

Coming closer my composure
Turning inside out in her
Calling home all alone
You can call I won't answer
Any question in my head
Remains until you feel the same
Never telling how I felt is all I ever cared about

Lyrics from "Sick of it All" by Finger Eleven"[/size]

[Astera]

Up a flight of stairs and down a hallway led to the chapel that now was a library. Few still worshiped there but they did it at Jerome’s absence. The door and interior to the library was scarlet, the books leather-bound and ancient. The main library was used as a neutral meeting place. A cherry wood desk sat in a corner. There Jerome waited with a book opened across his lap. He was a giant that reached seven feet. He came from Roman times, his hair long and a dirty blonde and Lycanthropy that raced through his veins. He dressed for the chilled weather of the Bavarian Alps in heavy brown coats. What knowledge Astera knew about his past was he came from the military. He traveled to defend Rome, seeing different cities and cultures. Possibly during this time he was bit. It was did not matter and these travels inspired Jerome to leave the military and begin a clan of his own.

The book slammed shut and set aside without another thought. Jerome stared them down, his gloved fingers laced together. He smiled without affection.

“Astera. A successful Hunt, I am sure.”

“Yes, Sir,” she said. “Less than twenty five hours to track, find, snare, and exterminate.”

“I see,” he said without interest.

She tossed the bag of cash. Jerome caught it with one hand and swiveled in the chair to dump the money onto the desk top. Each motion was fluid, timed and hard to ignore. Astera resisted with force, her attention going to the clench and release of her jaw. Jerome held a bill to the light, studying its authenticity.

“I am concerned on where you did the hit. He was a politician of some sort.” Human politics were of no interest to Jerome, either.

Her face remained calm while hatred whirled inside her head, spreading through her body. Jerome liked her least of all, which was why he placed her so high on the Hunter hierarchy. He gave many of those he cared little about in privileged positions to turn on them at the slightest error or hint of treachery. She remembered one particular male she had taken a liking to that became leader of the French pack. When he began a rebellion group, Jerome personally paid a visit to wrap silver barbed wire around his throat, leaving it there until near unconsciousness. Then he removed the wire, brought the rebel leader to headquarters, and shot him through the stomach with a silver bullet. It took the leader sixteen hours to die. Astera had more than enough reasons to be frightened for her safety.

“Yes, but he lacked suspicion some normal, average, everyday human male might have,” Astera said. “If anything, his confidence in his position made him easier to lure to the hotel.”

“What hotel?”

“The Hilton.”

“Hmm…”

“And it wasn’t announced on the news of his death or at least when he left for Germany, so it may be kept private or details are not being released.”

Jerome drew a circle in the air with his index finger in an annoyed ‘that is enough’ gesture. He created three stacks of money, one much taller than the other two. Astera’s eyes narrowed at the difference. Before she made a remark, Jerome laughed without humor.

“I heard you practicing last month,” he said. “Your gun sounded as if in need of a repair. By now, I assume you have decided to be rid of it.” He pointed to a bookshelf. At eye level to her was a small case made of a dark, shiny wood she was unable to identify. She glanced at Jerome and he motioned with fatherly impatience. She opened the case to find a hand-crafted gun. The metal was a rich, new gray that only the finest handguns possessed. Its smell was oily yet clean. Her hand traced over the barrel, fingers dancing across a snarling wolf carved into the metal. The grip contained a Celtic weave she was unable to recognize. A sharp hiss startled her but she it was her who hissed in a breath.

“Specialty hand-crafted guns do not come cheap. Remember the days when it was knives, daggers, swords, and whatnot?” Jerome said. He chuckled. “Oh yes, you only remember the knife decades. Business was so much slower but we were so much safer.”

Astera holstered the gun with a steady hand, casting an uneasy eye to her leader. He held their money, one in each gigantic hand, a smile playing on his lips. His eyes flicked from one to the other.

“No thank you?”

“Thank you, Sir; I am extremely grateful for your generosity and wonderful intuition.”

She received her money from Jerome. He settled back in his chair, lacing his fingers over the knee attached to the leg that crossed the other. She remained uneasy and Jerome seemed thrilled over her discomfort. Astera made to leave but he cleared his throat to get her attention.

“Is there anything else, Sir?”

“You have not asked me if there is a new assignment,” Jerome said.

Astera kept eye contact with him, which Jerome was not used to seeing or liking. Astera refused to break the contact. Even when she was a child he found it difficult to sway the eye contact. Here the refusal to act submissive or be submissive was happening again.

“I apologize,” she said stiffly. “Is there any new assignments that I am to do?”

The genuine smile threatened to break through. He kept it casual. “Yes and it deals with another politician. It does not have a strict time limit in which it is to be completed. One of our lesser able Hunters was approached by a man who he feels is a threat to the political system. I am transferring the hit to you and I want it done a month and a half from now. It is recommended you get to know the ‘Investment’ and learn his habits before hitting. It is said he works for the government and it has been found he is knowledgeable of our kind. The man who feels he needs to be taken out does not know this. The running mate to this politician will pay handsomely for the man’s death and a threat to our species shall be eradicated.” He removed a folded piece of paper from his pocket and held it out; Astera accepted it. It disappeared into her pocket.

“Will that be all, Sir?”

“Report to me within three weeks. I will be in England. Give me an update.”

“Yes, Sir. Good day and I will see you in a month’s time.”

Astera began to step out the door. Jerome’s hand was on her shoulder. She spun, mouth opening to yell while a hand reached for her gun. The pain was immense. It roared across her face, the blow so hard she saw the world in a grayish haze. Warmth trickled down her cheek. She staggered for a grip and felt a solid surface as her fist collided with Jerome's chest. Laughter erupted from somewhere but she was having a hard time focusing.

“Go ahead, Astera,” Jerome said. The amusement was clear in his tone. “Hit me. You will end up not only having a wounded face but a broken arm, too!”

He loomed over her, a swimming figure. She squinted up at him from where she sank to the floor. Her face on the left felt as if it swelled three times its normal size. Jerome seized her upper arms, hauling her to her feet. She smelled the remains of his last meal when his face stopped a quarter of an inch from her own.

“The Hilton,” Jerome said. He shook her with each word. How did she miss it? Silver was on the palms of his gloves. Why did she not notice it earlier? “The Hilton, Astera. You went to The Hilton.”

“Y-yes.”

“Again.”

“Yes…”

It dawned on her. Every time she made a hit in that city she checked into The Hilton. Astera squeezed her eyes shut at her own stupidity. Jerome hmmed in satisfaction.

“Yes, yes. Now you get it.” The wall made a hollow thumb as her back collided with it. Astera’s hands fumbled over the wall in an attempt to keep herself standing.

“Jerome-“

“Do not address me or speak to me. I should have you punished for such a mistake. You were not thinking and by not thinking or performing your duties you were taught over and over again, you jeopardized everything for us all. Not just me, you, the cripple… You put us all in danger.” His boot dug into her side above the hip. “Now your mistake will have to be cleaned up by me and I have better things to do other than making sure you don’t fuck me over. Get out of my sight.”

The kick removed much of the haze that clouded her mind. Jerome stood facing his desk as she stumbled to leave. He then turned and shot her in the small of her back with a silver bullet.

Astera's sapphire eyes snapped open in the dark and she clapped her hands over her face to stop herself from yelling out. For a second, for a split second, she had thought she had seen him, his face hovering over hers in the darkness. The smell of silver and her burning flesh was in the air and she could almost feel her face throb from the blow he had given her. With silver on his gloves.... It had to have been silver.

God, where had that dream come from? It had been thirty years since his death. She was disoriented and she sat up in the bed, her legs dangling over the edge, and she rubbed at her bare face and glanced at the clock that was losing its blur. 2:19 am. 2:19 am? She had slept the entire day away? No wonder she felt so out of it.

Astera stood, naked in the dark, and listened to the sounds. The building was quiet around her, a telly on upstairs turned to a local news station. She tried to not quiver as the dream slipped into her conscious thoughts, reminding her of the abuse she had gone through, reminding her of how many times she had nearly died. The dream had not been the worst incident. The worst had been liquid...

A growl started in her throat. There was no need to think of those times. They were done, they were over with, and Astera had proven herself with Jerome's death. But there were times when she was sure he was around, waiting for her to mess up, to slip and make a mistake, then he would glide into her life...

The urge to walk stole over her and Astera threw on a tank top and yanked on jeans then her dark gray coat over her. She slipped from her flat that she rented by the month, locking the door behind her, and she dug her hands deep into her pockets, allowing her feet to carry her wherever they wished to go. And she was stunned to find her feet carried her to the old Werewolf tunnels, tunnels she had lived in as a child oh so many years ago....

Astera shook her head, not wanting to go in, not wanting to go in and remember all the memories. Tonight was a night of reminiscing it seemed and she was not willing to remember. But then the singing caught her ears and she stopped. She slid into the tunnels, careful to not make any noise, and she hugged the walls in the shadows as she crept forward. The singing grew louder, the singing pleasant to the ears and the voice belonged to a female. Drawing in a breath the smell of a fellow Lycan was clear, a smell she had passed off as being old lingering smells at first. As she dared closer, she was surprised to see the figure was a young female that twirled and danced with headphones falling from her ears.

Astera could not help but smile when she laughed. And Astera dared to step from the shadows, her hands still her coats, her stance non-threatening but only curious.

[Ryder Jessicka Carr]

Ryder probably should have been a little more on guard. She probably should have heard or at least sensed the other werewolf approaching. But as it was, her favourite song started playing and her voice just got louder as she sung along. Ryder had always loved singing, and her voice wasn't too bad. If she'd really wanted to, she might have been able to become a singer. Or course now, that was out of the question. Her dancing started to pick up, actually taking form, borrowing moves from an old routine she and some of the girls in her old pack back in Vancouver had come up with. It was nice. Ryder couldn't remember the last time she'd been able to really let go like this. It was exhilerating, A good begining to her fresh start.

It wasn't until the routine called for a spin that Ryder turned around and caught sight of the other girl standing there in the tunnel. She must've jumped about a foot in the air and gave out a little yelp. Quickly ripping out the earbuds, Ryder droped into a defensive stance, expecting to be lunged at over territory or something. She was ready to change if she needed to, but it would be a shame to rip her clothes. The black jeans were her last decent pair and the dark purple tank top was one of her favourites.

Suddenly it struck Ryder the the girl in front of her was not at all poised to attack. In fact, her hands were in her coat pockets and her posture suggested nothing but curiosity. Ryder relaxed her stance and brushed some long, dark hair out of her face. She could feel herself blushing.

”Sorry... you startled me and... well I'm a little paranoid I guess.” Ryder stutered nervously. ”I'm uh... I'm new in London. So... if this is your territory I'm sorry, I didn't know. I can get going...” She hoped the territory didn't belong to anyone, she didn't know where she'd go for the night if she couldn't stay there.

[Astera]

Astera smirked, not at all bothered. She was a young werewolf, Astera was able to tell by smelling her, and she shrugged her shoulders and chuckled.

"Not my territory," she reassured. "If it's anyone's territory, I believe it's the Vampires. It used to belong to werewolves, London and nearly all of England that is, but that was back in the 1700s when I was a child."

She walked forward and looked around, her body spinning in slow circles as she craned her head back to stare at the ceiling of the tunnels.

"It's been a long time since I was in here... it's not the safest place to be but I suppose that others of our kind won't be coming here. But with you singing, well now... you may attract the wrong kind of attention. You're lucky it was me who came by and not a Slayer or a Vampire who hates us."

Another sniff, a delicate one, and a scan of her belongings told her all she needed to know about the girl.

Stop feeling pity for her, a voice inside her head snapped. She's young, she's on her own. She can make it. You don't have time to give two shits about another one when you have your own issues going on.

But it was hard to ignore her instincts... Perhaps it was her age that was bringing out the kindness, or perhaps it was one of the four major L's that ruled a werewolf's life: loneliness.

It never hurt to help another if the other wanted a bit of help.

Perhaps it reminded her of when she was young, on her own, working the streets...

"My name is Astera," she said sticking her hand out to shake. "You look as if you need a place to stay."

[Ryder Jessicka Carr]

Ryder flushed brightly and looked down at the ground. She didn't need to ask to know that this wolf was her elder, and she didn't like being told off, no matter how gently. She scuffed her foot lightly against the ground. This woman was right, it had been stupid to let go like that. Stupid to let her guard down, to let herself relax. The reality of her situation hit her again. She was in a strange place with no one. Ryder let out a sigh. She couldn't afford anymore moments of stupidity like that again.

“You're right... it was careless of me. I'm a little... new still, I guess.” Ryder told the woman, although this wasn't entirely true. She'd been a lycan for fourteen years now. One would have thought she'd be a little more accustomed to it by now.

The other girl introduced herself as Astera. Ryder smiled, a little shyly. “My name's Ryder.” She replied, for the first time taking a moment to actually take in the appearance of this other wolf. She darkly beautiful, seemingly wise and had a strange elegance to her that defied the impression the gothic clothing and make-up gave off. “And yes... I could use a place to stay...”

Ryder took the offered hand and shook firmly, as she belived that a firm handshake was always important, immortal or not. It seemed to be a lucky break, but she did wonder if it was wise to trust a strange wolf she didn't know. On one hand, she could be easily falling into a trap. On the other, she really did need somewhere to stay, and it was looking less and less likely that she'd be able to do very well on her own anyone. Suddenly she missed Daniel. He would've known what to do. As it was though, she was going to have to trust this Astera girl. At least, to an extent.

[Astera]

The discomfort in the younger one was clear and Astera fought the grin that threatened. Good, it was a good thing she was a little nervous and not quite trusting. Not that she planned on harming her but there were others who would jump on the chance of attempting to befriend her then kill her. With that thought, Astera reached inside her coat and removed a gun; not one of her favorites but one that was well used and loved and would not be difficult to handle. She checked the safety on it, knowing that her actions may send Ryder fleeing, then handed the gun to Ryder butt first as her hand held the barrel.

"In case you're not loaded," she said, "you need a weapon. Don't worry, I won't miss it, but I warn you if you don't know how to use one invest in the time to learn how. London is not necessarily the safest place. One of 'Them' may come about and this could save your life."

Astera inwardly shuddered. Her wounds from her last scuffle with the two categorized as 'Them' were nearly done healing, not completely, but nearly done. The silver bullet wound had been the worst and having to bite it out was not one of her favorite things she did.

"Come, my flat is not too far from here. It's decent sized, one bed, but I'll let you have the bed." She almost made a crack about Ryder perhaps sharing but decided against it. She was not sure how far this girl would go with such teasing that was laced with perverse humor.

Astera motioned for her to follow with a wave of her hand, the hand disappearing again into her coat, and she turned her back to Ryder - quite a bold move to turn her back to a stranger- and exited the old werewolf tunnels. The building that housed her flat was not far, roughly three blocks away, and when they were in the building and went up the stairs since the elevator was shut off during the night for "safety reasons" she unlocked the door of the flat and motioned for Ryder to go in. A sign of courtesy, not a sign of back stabbing.

Despite the minor weather worn appearance of the building on the outside, the flat itself was surprisingly spacious and mildly decorated for someone who was planning on staying for a few months. The walls were white, the floor wood, with a modern black leather couch in the living area and a love seat to match. There was no sign of a television in the living area but a canvas was set up near the window and there were papers scattered everywhere around the canvas with drawings in various stages of the world outside and whatever had come to mind. On the walls were pictures of wolves or pictures she had drawn of places she had gone to, the drawings and paintings life-like until you stepped closer to see the strokes of the brush or pencil.

"Welcome to my temporary housing unit," Astera said with a smirk.