[Mature]Werewolf: The Forsaken - Preludes

[Tokiwong]

Camera

Hillside Heights, Denver Suburb

Friday evening, December 1st, 2006

The community is lily white, not so much in the color of the homes but its residents, comfortable middle upper middle class Americans. Camera arrived the day before just after Thanksgiving. His older brother finished college, the only one to do so, and was doing a decent job of supporting his mother and by extension Camera.

Of course she, his mother, was not too pleased that his brother had married a white woman, but she felt she could overlook that in light of the fact that Jamil was doing so well in life. The Expedition and the Mustang in the garage spoke to that fact.

Camera could hear his mother downstairs cooking, although they never had much money growing up, mother could always cook a delicious meal. Jamil and his wife, Samantha chatted in the kitchen. Everything was different here, no crowded projects, violence, or even loud music.

It is quiet here.

The sun was setting, and the sky was a sickly purple-pink. A jogger passes by the home along the neatly maintained sidewalk. The lawn conforms to the will of its peers; the homes were stylish yet identical. Perhaps this was both heaven and hell?

Faith

Hillside Heights, Denver Suburb

Friday evening, December 1st, 2006

Esther’s house was just like Faith’s home, or maybe it was just a mirror of her home? Her brother sits downstairs playing video games with his friends. He was three years younger then faith and had one of those cute goofy crushes on her. He had the awkward build of a young man, long arms and legs, devoid of much muscle with curly dark hair and freckles.

Esther’s room was done in black, with posters of alternative gothic bands on the walls and the motif of night. Esther sat on her bed, her dyed black hair pulled back into pigtails, wearing shorts with a white t-shirt. Despite looking like your typical disaffected youth, she got good grades was popular, and had a boyfriend or two. One of which was in college.

Dark alternative music plays from her iPod connected to her stereo; Esther busies herself with a magazine. She speaks aloud, “I am bored, and Chad’s party won’t be for another few hours, what do you want to do in the meanwhile?”

Drake

Downtown Denver, The Mile High Bar

Friday evening, December 1st, 2006

Early evening, the sky is a sickeningly beautiful purple pink. The bar smells of smoke and cheap liquor. Drake a had a set for later in the evening, the place was a dive, well not totally it maintained a semi-sense of respectability and the lax standards of the owner made it a hot spot for young people in High School and College to congregate and party.

But that was all just background noise to the young man. A woman sitting in a booth by herself drew much of his attention. She had long blonde hair, and pale skin. She wore a heavy leather jacket over a dark shirt and body hugging jeans tucked into black boots.

A scar worked its way across her beautiful face, from the left eye, across her perfect nose, ending just under the right eye.

Piotr

Downtown Denver, Piotr’s Gun Store

Friday evening, December 1st, 2006

Another week of sales, nothing spectacular but enough to pay the bills and make a profit. The world was a dangerous place and that meant profit for the foreign born proprietor. This part of town was not exactly rough, but it wasn’t exactly a family neighborhood either. Liquor stores, bars, and even a strip club were all neighbors to the cozy little shop.

Thankfully the blanket of white snow, gave this part of time a soft feel to it. But that did little to change the actual mood of the denizens of this section of town. The city was awash with lights, snow, and grime. All three were constant, and all three vied for prominence.

Ariella

Downtown Denver outside The Mile High Bar

Friday evening, December 1st, 2006

This part of town was not exactly rough, but not exactly safe either. It was definitely a place where something could happen. Ariella sits in the patrol car with her partner, an older member of the force, Officer Richards; a thickly built black male with a wife and two kids. He grunts while eating a hamburger, “Keep your eyes open rookie, this won’t be a quiet night. I can feel it.”

The random chatter and buzz of the radio filled her ears ever few moments. It chirped like a squawking bird, spitting out random facts and requests at random intervals. A disheveled vagrant paces by the car slowly, clutching a paper bag clad bottle close to his bosom.

Then a random squawk from the radio sounds, but the voice is that of a child, “Help me…”

 

[Shayuri]

Ari manages to stifle down a yawn at Richards' warning. It wasn't that she was gonna tell him he was wrong...she just didn't feel it, and in fact was a little bored. She was about to get out the radar gun...hey, they were stopped anyway, right?...when she heard on the radio a child's voice pleading for help.

She paused at that, staring hard at the radio. After a moment's hesitation, she picked up the mic and clicked on, speaking into it, "This is a police only frequency. Who just asked for help?"

Realizing that Richards may not have heard it over the munching of his burger, she looked over at him and said, "I heard some kid on the radio saying help me."

 

[Graf]

Or does the place match the people?

Camera perched on the top of the back of the toilet staring out the high little window. There were bigger windows but, to his mind, this tiny one offered the best view. The shapes of the neighborhood were clearest here. The little driveway (their little driveway?) slipped out of sight, but othersmeandered in. He absent- mindedly sketched the lines, hedges, pavement, trees, houses.
He imagined the houses as little men and women, hunched over their lawns. The telephone poles were their canes, they soaked their feet in the pools, in their back yards. Did they demandobedience of the little creatures that lived within them. Prodding them into fitting into the little jigsaw.

The drawing was finished.

Camera eased himself down. He had a half an hour before ma finished cooking. He wanted to duck out, and wander a bit. He'd draw the streets better once he'd had the pavement under his feet.

 

[Tokiwong]

She paused at that, staring hard at the radio. After a moment's hesitation, she picked up the mic and clicked on, speaking into it, "This is a police only frequency. Who just asked for help?"

“What was that?” the dispatcher replies, “this is central Dispatch Operator, come again?”

Realizing that Richards may not have heard it over the munching of his burger, she looked over at him and said, "I heard some kid on the radio saying help me."

Officer Richards nearly spits his food up, “What, you heard what? I didn’t hear anything, Jesus, don’t spooky weird on me this early in the night.”

Ariella notices that the radio is has a thin sheen of blood which ahs stained her palm red.

Camera

The interior of Jamil’s home was immaculate, expensive, and pretty much devoid of any real personality or soul. The interior of the home is almost sterile, oh it is a beautiful home, but one never really feels at home, or even inspired to feel anything at all. But the smell of mom’s home cooked food from the kitchen definitely lends a sense of warmth and familiarity.

She was frying pork chops, baking corn bread, and making collard greens; she never really used recipes but the food was perfect every time. A far cry from the more sensible and healthy meal Jamil’s wife prepared last night. It would be much tastier at least.

Jamil pay’s camera no mind as he steps outside into the brisk air, the neat manicured lawn covered in a layer of snow and frost. The sidewalk was clear, the roads salted, and the neighborhood silent.

An SUV passes by along the quiet street, pulling into a home down the street. The driver, a woman gets out carrying a shopping bag. She walks almost zombie like into her home, the large suburban predator swallowing her as she enters.

Outside he could feel the homes glare at him, this was a place he did not belong…

 

[Graf]

Camera frowns as he makes his way back to dinner. As he moves he half-instinctively seek shadows and regrets all these well maintained and brightly street lights keeping him from slipping from the sight of the houses.
The run-down development where he spent most of his life feels poignantly nostalgic.

 

[Shayuri]

“What was that?” the dispatcher replies, “this is central Dispatch Operator, come again?”

Officer Richards nearly spits his food up, “What, you heard what? I didn’t hear anything, Jesus, don’t spooky weird on me this early in the night.”

Ariella notices that the radio is has a thin sheen of blood which ahs stained her palm red.

"Probably just some kid goofing around on a HAM radio or some..." Ari trails off when she notices the red on her hand. On realizing what it is, she snatches her hand away from the radio with a startled yelp.

"Gah! There's..." she quickly examines her hand to make sure it's not cut. "The damn radio's got blood all over it! What the hell?!"

 

[Tokiwong]

"Probably just some kid goofing around on a HAM radio or some..." Ari trails off when she notices the red on her hand. On realizing what it is, she snatches her hand away from the radio with a startled yelp.

"Gah! There's..." she quickly examines her hand to make sure it's not cut. "The damn radio's got blood all over it! What the hell?!"

Her hand is tinged with the crimson of blood; the coppery smell fills her nose. Officer Richard looks at her strangely, “What?”

The blood slowly forms into designs in her palm, a spiraling pattern. Her grizzled partner puts his sandwich down, “What in the hell are you talking about,” he inspects the radio, “What blood?”

Camera

Camera hears something shuffling in the snow behind him. Then a low growl, a canine’s growl fill's his alert ears. The growl is feral, not the tamed growl of a neighbor’s dog, this had the spirit of the wild, the snow, and the hunt behind it.

 

[Festy_Dog]

Piotr turned the page in his magazine and wondered if it was worth shutting up shop at this point in the day. It felt like a particularly noneventful afternoon, but when wasn't it like that here? On a day like this people would probably be making themselves cozy in their homes right now, not making last minute gun purchases. Piotr turned the page; an article on ideal loads for deer hunting. He rolled his eyes and stood up, putting the magazine down on the counter. He never was much for hunting, despite owning a license.

Piotr walked over to the store entrance and looked outside. Perhaps he should get a drink? The street lights were going to stutter to life sooner or later, and throw their own shade of colour in with the various neon signs that lined the street. A cocktail of light. It had it's own kind of charm but couldn't much compare to a night sky far from habitation. His eyes were naturally drawn to the tracks left in the dirty snow, and the shadows distributed along the street. There was a pang of desire to go hiking, but Piotr hadn't gone out as frequently lately. He did the rounds, locking this, checking that, before heading to the front door. Maybe a drink was in order after all.

 

[Shalimar]

Hillside Heights, Denver Suburb
Friday evening, December 1st, 2006

Faith had come over to Esther's right from school, a pretty common occurance for the teen, she was always somewhere with someone after school, though often it was a school activity of some sort, volley ball or soccer, she was even considering cheerleadng, one of the girls on the varsity squad had asked her to consider it, she definitely got along well with them. The pink-haired teen was flopped out on the carpet in a pair of khaki pants and a green silk top, the heels of her sandals tapping her bottom.

"Hey I got this thing at that old bookstore uptown. Take a look at it, I want to use it for my book of shadows, what do you think, cool huh?" Faith asks, taking a big leather bound book out of her backpack. The volume had an ornate looking brass latch sealing it and a weird but probably meaningless design on the cover. "I thought we could like come up with a ceremony or craft names or something. Or we could hang around with your brother and his friends, its not too long til the party, and its soo cute how he gets tongue tied sometimes."

 

[Shayuri]

Her hand is tinged with the crimson of blood; the coppery smell fills her nose. Officer Richard looks at her strangely, “What?”

The blood slowly forms into designs in her palm, a spiraling pattern. Her grizzled partner puts his sandwich down, “What in the hell are you talking about,” he inspects the radio, “What blood?”

"Whaddya mean what blood? Look!" She holds her palm out to him. "Whaddya call that?"