Finding flies on a raft an amusing idea (open)

[Morrison Whelan]

It was unusual to find Morrison in such a public place, that was unless he was drunk. But he was very sober today, had been for a while. He had just been feeling lonely perhaps; Iivan hadn't shown up at the apartment for a week or so and he hadn't gone to see Meadhbh, nor had she come to see him, in a few days. He didn't have many friends either, just acquaintances; he generally didn't get along with people to well. The werewolf was too hot-headed, he would never be passive and would never back down, and often came off as a complete ass and overly cocky when he first met someone.

The bridge was a little crowded this time of day (late afternoon), mostly with humans, some supernaturals, though he could smell very few over the much stronger and sweeter scent of the mortals around him. He accidentally bumped into another wolf, and growled softly, merely out of habit. The were looked at him wide eyed, clearly recognizing him, then quickly hurried off, pushing through the crowd. He'd encountered that wolf before, though it was brief, and had made a very bad impression.

Morrison hadn't been in the best of moods, having just been ran out of meal by a groups of vampires, and he had wanted to take it out on someone. The next man he had seen, that poor young wolf, had gotten a good punch, squarely in the middle of the face. The next time he'd seen him, the boy had a bandage on his nose and to this day, wouldn't so much as look at him funny and if he ever made any eye contact with Morrison, he became incredibly afraid and dashed off like the devil was on his tail.

In the back of his mind, Morrison knew that he should really confront this boy and apologize to him for what he did, that it was all a big misunderstanding. But he got a kick out of seeing that scared expression, knowing that there was at least one less wolf that would not be tempted to cross, like so many others dared to. Those people were always set straight though, and became as wary of him as the boy.

He stopped now in the middle of the bridge, beside a woman who looked of a certain age, and stared out at the river. He had always wanted to go swimming in that river and as far as he could think of, there was no reason that he hadn't yet besides the fact that every time he neared it, the thought slipped his mind. Instead of swimming, himself, today, he would let something else go for a swim. He bent down and picked up a nice sized leaf then dropped it off the bridge. It drifted down slowly, caught in a slight wind, and when it hit the water was immediately sucked under the bridge and was probably drowned in the water now. He imagined what the leaf would have looked like with tiny crew of flies on it for some reason, and it made him laugh softly, thinking of them being pulled under the water like that.

[Kriss ~Aleksei Lee Malitzka~]

_{Forearms rested against the railings, back was arched and neck was craned downward in an almost thoughtful position. Grasped in one hand was for the most part a blank sketchpad, the paper white save the faint lines that had been gathered in places-- the corner of the bridge railing at one end, an article of the sky above, and a blur of rushing water below. The land was half formed, a mass of for the most part unremarkable half-formed ragged land against the paper. All of it was hardly visible, each single line that formed the partial illustration was just that: a faded line.
Aleksei gave a slight sigh, his head still bent and his golden eyes locked on the rushing waters below. Most of his shoulder-length hair was gathered into a short, messy pony while some of the dark raven strands fell forward and hung in slightly damp against his sun-kissed skin, almost curled from its slight wetness as though he had recently taken a shower. His jacket was unzipped despite the chill in the air, and the buttons of his shirt beneath were undone at the collarbone, exposing the marred skin beneath, flawed by twisting scars.
A look of frustration found hold across his features with a furrow of his brows and a tensing of his back. Aleksei straitened, just as from fringe of his vision he caught a glimpse of a falling leaf, flittering in the air like a bird with it's wings broken. He watched in indolent fascination as it hit the water and descended out of sight into the depths, pulled under by the savage current. At that, he looked up in search of the one who sent the long since fallen leaf into another adventure, though a grisly one at that. His eyes befell Morrison, glimmering an almost unnatural, inhuman amber-coloration. Aleksei arched his brows now, amusement coloring his glittering optics. "Watching things fall?" He inquired his voice light. His faint Russian accent lilted his words, lacing them faintly but thickly enough to be recognizable. There was a faint amusement in that tone of voice as well, it matched the gleam in his eyes along with the faint smirk across his lips.
After a second assessment of the man though, Aleksei had his doubts about his breed though it was too soon to tell yet. Straitening further his face remained unchanging but a more focused look caught in his eyes, they lost their humoring edge and became sharper. With a slight laugh he turned away, shaking his head his eyes befell the paper he had in hand. The image remained the same, but now a muse had struck itself and rung in his mind. After an instant of thought he raised his hand that still held the simple led pencil and he lightly sketched the ghostly image of the leaf as it fell, along with the new addition to the image he drew the churning waters beneath, and he made them grow darker than the surrounding water. Thicker, and more defined, almost like a demon waiting below, mouth opened and teeth prepared to devour whatever unlucky soul happened to fall into the abysmal depths below.}

[Morrison Whelan]

Morrison shot a brief glance at the man that approached him and grinned widely at his observation. "Watching things fall?" He quickly bent to pick up another leaf then twisted it in his fingers. "Well, it really is more in the dropping," he said matter-of-factly, holding the new leaf over the river, "you see..." He trailed off when the man no longer seemed to be paying attention to him and had lifted a sketchbook and pencil. There was an odd melancholy about him that Morrison wasn't too keen on, it almost made him want to throw him off the bridge but he didn't say so. Instead he contented himself with letting the leaf plummet through the air an into the river to join it's brother in a watery grave.

Morrison took the time that the man was doodling, drawing to assess him. The accent he had was intriguing, but only a little bit so, Morrison had his own accent, though it was barely pronounced at the moment. And the man was a werewolf, he could smell him and he was strong, but again, it was only a little more than interesting. What he had really picked up on was the man's darkness. He must have a tortured soul, a dangerous, tragic past, and such deep profound thoughts, they could not be put into words. The were said this to himself in his head, in an over dramatic, exaggerated Russian accent.

A soft chuckle escaped his lips as he turned his eyes back to the river. God, it was tempting to take a dive right into the chilly water... Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that the other wolf had looked up from his sketching now and turned his body toward him, holding out a welcoming hand. "I'm Morrison," he said, putting on his best Irish accent, "and I'd like to take you out for a drink." It might seem direct to the man, but over a century or so, Morrison had found that you learned the most about a man when he was drunk, or just plain letting loose. He also a little curious, in a morbid way, to see if any sort of brawl would be conjured up by a few drinks.

[Kriss ~Aleksei Lee Malitzka~]

_{In truth, Aleksei had still been listening to Morrison despite the sudden turn of occupation. His glance was redirected from the corner of his eyes as yet another leaf fluttered to its merciless fate below, broken, flightless. There was amusement in his eyes, bleak amusement at that. For an instant he wondered what would happen if one really was to jump from the bridge, other than the leaf. Would they merely be sucked beneath the current below, powerless to its savage speed? He shook the thought away though, not truly caring. After all he was not going to jump off the bridge in a whim. After an instant more of staring unfocused towards the churning waters below Aleksei closed the sketchpad and brought his hands to his sides, inserting the hand that still held his pencil into one of the deep pockets of his jacket.
Neck became upwardly tilted, his gaze directed towards the cerulean sky above, laced with delicate white-gray clouds and streaked by leafless, barren tree branches that were nothing more than clawed hands reaching from the ground below. He barely noticed as Morrison extended his hand, offering his name but as it was Aleksei had heard and turned to face him, brows slightly upraised. Despite his obvious surprise he retracted his hand from his pocket and outstretched it in response, grasping Morrison’s hand in greeting. “Aleksei,” he murmured that Russian accent still in his words. It wasn’t exactly faint, but it was well enough disguised by his partly developed English one.
Aleksei’s face was slightly turned away, though his eyes were fully locked on Morrison, gleaming the coloration of molten amber, a slight caution took over them at the man’s next suggestion. “A drink?” This was spoken more out of surprise than anything else, but there was a faint almost nonchalant amusement in his words as well. Brows uplifted in something like mocking inquiry. “Surely you have things better to do than take me out for a drink.” Malicious humor gleamed in Aleksei’s feral eyes, but even with this he knew that if the offer stayed in place he would accept, simply for the sake of curiosity. For the sake of something happening, whereas nothing otherwise would have occurred because Aleksei was just that—he was someone who enjoyed any sort of muse no matter what that muse was. His life was focused by short-lived delight, but the delight never managed to hold fast to whatever constant his life followed. In fact, if anything the only constant in his existence was being inconsistent. “But if you’re offering, all accept.”
And with that, Aleksei leaned back against the railing, hands gripping its chilled surface. His face was perfectly expressionless, saved that etched smile across his lips that was nothing more than a faint, upward list to their corners, but there was almost something uneasy about that faint grin, a malicious undertone that was hardly anything more than a trace beneath his outward show of utter indolence. His eyes beheld the same expression, but they had a thoughtful expression in them, as though clockwork were turning beneath the lights of those almost inhuman optics.}