I see right through to you...{Open} -- KEEP

[Greylyn Blair]

Once a beautiful place, Hyde Park was now a desolate wasteland. Flowers that once bloomed, were now scorched and wilted. Blue sky turned to gray...The grass looked as if it had no seen a mower in forever and someone had used way too much fertilizer, yet everything looked so dead, how could it possibly grow?

Yet Greylyn found the place absolutely beautiful and enthralling. Maybe it was because she was just weird and a little bit damaged herself. Not that she found herself attractive in any size, shape or form.

Intelligent blue eyes gazed out at the grass-desert then lowered herself to sniff the ground. There had definitely been some vampires around here, but there a more distinct smell. Like one of her kind. The thing about wolves though, were they all smelled different unlike the bittersweet cinnamon smell of the vampires. At least, that's how the leeches smelled to her.

Raising her head again, she moved forward through the grass that brushed against her flanks and sides. White fur nearly dragged the ground and caught leaves and such to tag along.

The white wolf's mind wondered to the old stories that were told about Hyde Park. Supposedly when someone actually dared to wonder through these parts, they could hear the tortured screams of those that died on End Day, or the day that werewolves took over London.

Personally, Grey had nothing to do with the government, and neither did her brother. They were simply trying to live life. Sterling worked for one of the newspapers, and she was currently wrapped up high school and holding down a part time job at a cafe. They rarely ever let anyone know what they were, even though werewolves were mostly accepted.

One could say that Grey tended to lean towards her human nature...

But the question was....why was this white werewolf out by herself in the middle of the dead park?

It was one of the rare occasions that Sterling and Greylyn had gotten into it. She never did take kindly to be told what to do, so instead of carrying on with the yelling and what-not, she left. Slamming the door in Sterling's face was enough to shut the older wolf up.

So here she was, wondering through the tall grass. She wasn't worried about being bothered or anything. I mean, who would show up in a deserted place like this?

[Archon Krantz]

Archon found himself in Hyde Park that night in order to savour the seclusion it would so often provide. He had become rather familiar with it over the years, and often found himself sitting upon discarded rocks or benches, feeling the subtle winds caress his face as he sat, doing nothing, feeling nothing, thinking nothing. It was quite tranquil, really, and the time he spent in this park were truly the only moments of relaxation in his life. And now, he shared this cherished time with his dog, a loyal pet that laid at his side. Its eyes were only half open as it lay there peacefully, head on its paws as its brown fur billowed in the breeze, and Archon gazed at it with a distant admiration, but he was otherwise void of feeling.

Such a rare occasion for Archon—to be void of feeling. Usually his emotions were wound up in a tight strain of tension. But that is why he had come here, is it not? For the isolation, for the peace, for the quiet.

However, it appears that today he was not so lucky.

His inner calm was immediately shattered when his dog’s head shot up in alarm, causing Archon to do the same. He whipped around, the rustling of foliage causing his eyes to fall toward the right. Archon's intense gaze scoured the barren field and absorbed his surroundings for perhaps the first time that night. A brittle tree towered next to him, its branches reaching out like grimy claws, and tufts of yellowed grasses sprouted at its base, perhaps forming the only other semblance of life within the park—that is, other than the white figure that moved toward them in the scrub nearby. Both Archon and his dog eyed it, the dog with a lax anticipation, but Archon with a disheartening glare. By this time, the dog had risen to its feet, ears forward and attentive, but otherwise held a slack posture—in other words, the complete opposite of its owner, who tensed further with each second the figure neared. It was clear by the figure's shape that it was a quadruped of some sort, as its form was much too short and elongated to be a bipedal. And yet, it was much too large to be any sort of typical urban animal, so that only left one thing.

A werewolf.

Archon’s glare intensified all the more, his eyes like little green daggers beneath his furrowed brows. He scrutinized her now, scanning her features in order to trigger his memory. After all, they could have easily met before in The Pit—as it was called by the underground fighters—that Archon so often frequented. However, there was nothing notable about her appearance—just a set of icy eyes on a white coat. “The fuck are you doing here?” he called out, and if this werewolf was not aware of his presence before, she surely would be now with Archon’s low, raspy voice to scarp across her eardrums. And, moreover, he used a demeaning tone that suggested she was a committing a criminal offence just for entering a public park—that is, if this scrap of scarred land could be referred to as a park.

But Archon sighed then, realizing that a werewolf in canine form was about as useful in conversations as an unresponsive wall, and proceeded to give a huffed, “Never mind.”

The dog at his side barked gruffly in response, almost as if agreeing with its owner, though again, its stance did not indicate aggression, and could perhaps just be a bark of warning. Its eyes glinted with a sudden emergence of attention normally unseen on its face, but yet it remained where it was, next to its irritated sweater-and-jeans-wearing owner. Although the dog wore neither a collar nor leash, it was still bound to Archon by its inexplicable loyalty, and it would take much more than a strange canine for it to abandon Archon’s side.

“You planning on staying long or what?” Archon said now, irritation still evident in his tone. He only bothered asking such a thing simply because he wondered if he should leave now or later, considering how his isolation had been ever so rudely disrupted. After all, that is why he sat here now, on this abandoned rock—for the isolation, and now that this unfamiliar werewolf had invaded it, there was little point in staying. However, his inner turmoil remained chaotic, a menacing mass of tension and anxiety whirling within him. He felt that if he left the solitude of the park that it would continue whirling, threatening to break free…

And well, nobody wanted to see that happen.



(OOC: She can approach the dog if she wants--he's nice. It's just Archon that isn't... XD)

[Greylyn Blair]

Greylyn never paid much attention to anything. Maybe a little ADHD plagued her, or just a short attention span. Who knew? It was a miracle that she did pass her classes in school, and that she passed as well as she did with an almost perfect score. Mostly standard A's and one or two B"s. No one was perfect. She would be the first to admit.

But back to her current situation, said short attention span was currently working as she did not notice the piercing green orbs that stared at her from afar. It was not a matter of not being able to see, which she was able to do quite well in human or wolf form.

It was the patch of grass surrounding a mound of dirt that was now captivating the teen's concentration. A mole was staring at her peculiarly, obviously not afraid of the rather large animal hovering above it. Black, beady eyes stared into her icy blue ones. Tilting her head from side to side like a puppy, the mole jumped up and dove into the hole. Grey let out a yelp as if begging her new-found friend to come back.

She continued staring at the hole as if the rodent would decide to come back out in play. She was harmless after all....for the most part.

The next sound that reached her ears from afar brought her back out of her reverie. The gruff cursing seemed louder than ever. Maybe this was because of the quietness of the surrounding area. She thought she had been alone.

Grey's ears perked forward and blue eyes scanned the area. She quickly found the source of the question. The piercing green eyes were staring back at her, obviously knowing she was there. Grey's gaze moved to the brown fluffy form next to the man. Still smaller than her, but a fairly large brown scruffy dog lay at the man's feet. Obviously a pet.

“Never mind.”

Obviously talking to her, or about her, he seemed to disregard her. Maybe he thought she was just an ordinary dog passing through. What had she done to disturb him so much?

The dog barked at her. Grey was surprised for a moment, waiting to see how the canine reacted, but he didn't move and seemed fairly relaxed at his master's side.

“You planning on staying long or what?”

Greylyn's ears flattened against her skull and she bristled. 'This isn't your park, buddy,' she thought. Of course, he couldn't hear her.

She stepped forward just to show him that she had no intentions of leaving. Then she noticed it. THe smell, his eyes, the aura of dominance radiating from the male. He was a werewolf as well. Her lip lifted slightly. She hated that dominating force.

Her expression became more friendly as she trotted up to the dog, slowly of course to show she meant no harm. Completely forgetting Archon, Grey moved towards his canine companion. Tongue lolling with a wolfy grin, she barked a welcome, or maybe a hello. Could dogs even understand werewolf speak?

The white wolf stood about 4'0, hovering above the domesticated animal. She sat back on her haunches and barked again before tilting her head, waiting to see how the dog reacted. She could be such a pup.

[Archon Krantz]

Archon had not always been so inexplicably angry. There once was a point in his life when he was, in fact, shunned into silence the majority of the time and incapable of even meeting another’s eye, fearful of the ridicule and hate it might bring. Now, however, that was hardly the case. Now that frightened child has grown a daunting outer barrier. Now he met an innocent werewolf with an unmatched ferocity never before seen in his former demeanour. And now that werewolf looked at him with ears pricked and eyes wide in surprise.

But Archon hardly hindered. He held her gaze, and although a sickening feeling quelled in his gut, his outer shell remained steady. Like an egg, he appeared to have a tough exterior, but all it took was one, singular crack, and his vulnerable insides would ooze out, staining his deceiving demeanour. However, even as the female’s fur bristled in aggression, Archon continued to glare. His flimsy shell would not crack. Not today.

The female stepped forward now, as if challenging Archon’s rare spurt of willpower, her upper lip raised in what he could only guess was disgust, and although Archon returned the gesture with the irritated jerk of his own upper lip, internally he sighed. It was foolish of him to even hope that his daunting exterior would function as it should, would intimidate others as it should, would allow Archon a mere fragment of solitude as it should.

But unfortunately, nothing worked as it should. Archon discovered this the hard way.

“Hey, who said you could fucking come over here?” he now grunted in an infuriated annoyance. The female began her approach, falling into step with a slow stride. His hopes were long since dashed and crumpled, but Archon still miraculously—or foolishly—persisted in chasing her off. However, it seems as though his attempts were utterly futile, since the female continued to near with a sudden nonchalance, her previous aggression and disgust appearing to melt away and transform into blissful ignorance. In suit with her changed attitude, the fellow werewolf appeared to smile a toothy grin, but not toward Archon—toward his dog, and she then proceeded to bark at it eagerly. However, this brought forth an immediate glare from Archon, and his jaw clenched, preparing for the angry words that were about to shoot from it.

But… before he could so much as breathe, his dog interrupted him with that same, gruff bark—not a gesture of anger or aggression, but a simple, kind gesture of warning. It then stood silently, at its full height of a stunning, albeit oddly large, three feet, four inches, its fur gritty and scraggly, but only because of lack of proper care—Archon seemed to have passed along that unhygienic habit onto his pets, based on the grease build up that shone in his own hair—and although it appeared a bit scrawny, it was a lanky dog, destined to be taller than it was wide—nothing Archon could help. Besides, Archon always tended to its food, often dishing it leftovers of his own meat, or sometimes the entire meal itself if there was not enough for them both. Truly, he was a dedicated owner—albeit an extremely protective one.

The werewolf barked a second time, a sound so guttural to Archon's ears that it rocketed through his body and welcomed an uneasy tension that followed suit. Goosebumps sprouted on his covered arms, and he glared heatedly. The dog merely sniffed the air, its wet nose twitching as it committed this werewolf’s scent to memory, but it dared not leave Archon’s side. It seemed to know what would happen if it did. “And who the hell said you could talk to MY dog?” he yelled, glaring at this fellow werewolf while spewing the word you as if it were the equivalent to the name Voldemort in Hogwarts. “If you want a dog to ‘talk’ to, go get your goddamn own.”

(Geh, sorry I couldn't give you more to reply to. Archon's dog is too damn loyal... XD)

[Greylyn Blair]

Greylyn was stubborn. She always had been through and through. When she wanted something, she went for it, and she wanted nothing more to piss Archon off. This was not a normal initiative for her, but he was just outright rude, and she didn't take crap from anyone. Especially a pig-headed male.

Moving towards him slowly, but carefully obviously upset him as another onslaught of verbal attacks came her way. She didn't stop. When Grey was about half way over to the werewolf and his pet, Archon snarled back at her. This did not slow her down any and she came to sit in front of the dog.

The dog answered her bark with one of its own. A warm bark, so obviously it was welcoming, unlike its human counterpart.

“And who the hell said you could talk to MY dog?”

Grey turned her head to look at Archon, a dead look in her eyes. She wasn't phased by his cursing and demands. Actually, she was quite intrigued. The reaction he had when she barked was interesting. Tension rippled through Archon, as if he would burst out of his skin and clothes right then and there.

Greylyn knew what would happen if he did, that is, if he could catch her. She was small and quick, making it easy for her to outrun and dodge attacks from a huskier male, but she wasn't about to underestimate him. He might just be quicker.

Blue orbs turned back to the scraggly dog, taking in its appearance. No collar or leash. Fur unkept...well not much different from the other dog. Of course she was not much better with leaves and twigs tangled in her fur.

Nothing was restraining the dog from coming to her to play, as she obviously did. No, some other force much stronger than collar and leash prevented him. It was very obvious how attached the two were and Grey admired the dog for it.

The white wolf couldn't quite figure out this male. He was loud and rude, obnoxious and snide, yet he protected this dog like it was the one thing keeping him breathing.

Grey had to figure him out. She would keep on pushing until she cracked through the exterior.

The next thing she did might surprise Archon, or make him extremely happy for the time being. Grey turned on her heel and dashed back into the brush.

When Grey had reached the edge of the field, she slowed down and trotted to a pile of rocks. Nudging them away, she revealed the place she hid her clothes. Stepping back, she braced herself as the burning began. Cracks and snaps rippled through her body as she transformed. White fur replaced by smooth skin.

Twenty minutes later, the fire resided and the girl stretched. Greu donned a pair of raggedy jeans, a black t-shirt, and grabbed her sneakers then walked back to rock where her new found "friend" awaited her. She came around the bushes she had high-tailed it into and gave him a minute to see how he would react. It would probably be quite comical, as the teen found almost anyone's discomfort humorous in a situation like this.


[Whew...yours is better than mine. I ramble. :/ Hopefully gives you a little something to work with.]

[Archon Krantz]

Archon hated people. That much was obvious. Through experience, he realized that nothing good came from interacting with them. You could give and give and give, but all you would receive in return were insults, meaningless glances, words of disdain and, most of all, rejection. In Archon’s mind, what was the point of forming bonds, of tying yourself to one another with frail little strings only to watch them fray and sever and brutally ripped? There may as well be no attachments in the first place. He may as well make himself seem so ugly and unpleasant that others will form a twenty metre radius just to distance themselves from him.

So when the white werewolf bolted in a nearby bush, Archon was glad. The grotesque portrayal of himself had succeeded in warding her off, and he was content with himself. The tension that had once racked his body melted away and he was once again able to relax in the worn bench he occupied. His dog also made itself comfortable, returning to its haunches near Archon’s feet, though otherwise remained still and left Archon to his thoughts, where he wondered why life couldn’t be like walking. You didn’t even have to think about it, but yet it happens—neurons fire, muscles contract, tendons move, and with them, an entire limb strides forward, creating something so complex, but yet so seamlessly combined to create effortless movement, while in daily life, you were met with all kinds of complicated obstacles. It wasn't like walking. It took thought. So much fucking thought. He just wanted life to be simple—was that too much to ask?

At least now, though, the werewolf’s absence gave him one less thing to worry about. Or at least, this is what Archon assumed.

His muscles having recoiled from their earlier tension, Archon exhaled in a sigh of relief. He relished in his sudden isolation, and the chaos that had once clawed at his mind retreated to the deeper crevices of his psyche. Rising from his seat, Archon was satisfied with the time spent in solitude and the abrupt sense of peace he achieved.

“Come on,” he called, motioning for his dog to follow him as he began to leisurely amble his way home, but then stopped.

His previous assumption of being alone was completely shattered, and the creature that had been put to rest within his mind reemerged, using its claws to distort all rational thought. Immediately he could sense the eyes burning into his very being, and that familiar discomfort swelled in his gut.

He turned, whipping around in a flurried haste. He took her eyes into account first and foremost—the same blue he recalled from only minutes earlier, and as before, he met these eyes with an intense glare. Her fur had been replaced with clothing—old jeans and a simple T-shirt, similar to what Archon wore, except instead of a mere shirt he preferred a bulky pullover sweater. Also, she seemed young—younger than him, at least—though this made little difference to Archon.

“You changed, huh?” he said, more as an observation than a question, and spoke it with clear disgust. He thought he had been liberated from the burden of socializing, yet here he was again. “Well, fucking great.” After his rare moment of sarcasm, Archon crossed his arms over his chest, if anything to seem more pissed and therefore more intimidating. “You want something, or what? I told you to get your own damn dog,” he snorted, because to him, there was no other logical reason for her return. And of course, throughout this discussion, the dog itself had stood near Archon and observed with silent eyes, merely absorbing the situation.

What an odd dog it was.



(Geh sorry this took so long ._. But nah, I think everybody has to ramble a little bit in RPing ahah. It's all good.)

[Greylyn Blair]

"You changed, huh?"

Greylyn smirked at the distaste in the man's voice and it only grew wider when he cussed at her. She wasn't sadistic or anything, taking pleasure in people's displeasure, but it was something in her that made her just want to be difficult, even though she could be very likeable.

This wolf hated her. Simple as that. Her smirk disappeared as she ran the events back through her head, trying to find out where she had offended him. Nothing. Grey couldn't find nothing. At least until she had approached his dog.

“You want something, or what? I told you to get your own damn dog."

Blue eyes snapped up at the man, fiery as his temper. Grey's jaw set into a frown, or grimace, as she was showing her slightly sharpened canines at the man. Almost animalistic even in her human form, she tended to make the noises and facial expression associated with her kind in their furry form.

The look of determination could possibly set him off again. No telling about this guy. At first finding the situation hilarious, she now saw him as a challenge. Not sure why. Primal instincts? Unfamiliar wolf?

"I know, I heard you." Her voice came out sharp and low like a rush of air.

The snarl disappeared off the teen's face as she got a more quizzical look for her expression. "He's really attached to you. I just wanted to play," she murmured softly, as if talking to herself and him.

A smile widened again on her lips as she looked up at Archon like a child looking up at a parent. "What's his name?"