Post by William Shaw on Sept 15, 2009 11:33:59 GMT -5
The streets were alive with noises, sights and scents that intrigued William, each of which attempted to drag his concentration, his focus, away from him, allowing his slightly more animalistic side to take over. Around one corner was a stall roasting chestnuts, their vaguely sweet, charred smell curling around the hundreds of busteling bodies, catching on fabrics and clasping to hair. He smelled that stall on over half the people that walked past him, half those that touched shoulders with him. Different mixes of different scents allowed him to pick out various faces in the crowds, perfumes matching the faces of their buyers; young, pretty women carrying dozens of bags, the sweat of overweight men mixing with the greased food clasped in their beefy hands.
Were Will to succumb to their sensuous tug, give in to the plathora of temptation around him, he would be lost in an almost euphoric state of mind, caught in ecxtasy so strong the most cleanly cut cocaine would pale in comparison. He would lose his self control, and he would become dangerous. He would lose what made him human. Masochistic really, coming to a place so alive and full of scents that one has no choice but to feel tempted to change, yet stops oneself for fear of it.
Shrugging his shoulders a little, and huddling into his thick jacket against the cold wind, he pushed past a few more people, attempting desperately to drag himself from the peripace on which he stood, all to ready to jump. Pushing himself through a few more people, he headed down a more deserted side street, taking to the shadows, and emereged on the other side, away from the chestnut store, but still surrounded by civilians. Then it was mid-day in New York City. Of course he was surrounded. Taking a few steps into the crowd, he began to regulate breathing between his mouth and his nose, taking less direct breaths in, heading toward Central Park, the open space giving him somewhere to take a break, somewhere to breathe normally without as much temptation.
And then it hit him, a scent that stood out among the others, more earthy in texture, more charred, tinged with dank musk of wet animal. Something was different, wrong almost. Sniffing the air as naturally as he could, William's button nose traced a perfect circle before him. People crashed into him from behind, muttering curses under their breath, telling him not to stop in crowds. But he couldn't help it, he was lost for a moment, lost in the scent of magic.
It had not been the scent he was trailing originally, and were it not for a vague similarity, the smell of animal, it may have only aroused a slight interest in him. But no, not when there was that fimiliarality, not when there was something interesting on its own, but further tainted with something that he was hunting.
His eyes scanned people ahead of him, attempting to put a face to the smell. Those before him bustled about, keeping themselves to themselves, some looking at his searching face with a mix of amusement and confusion. Taking a few steps forward, his head began to tilt, to pinball around from side to side, follwing the trail as best as he could. As it got stronger, he sped up, until he saw its source.
The girl was tall and slim, high cheekbones framing a pretty face, tanned skin seeming impervious to the paling effect of the cold weather. She moved unhindered by other people, seeming to move on imported air, noone touching her. The scent of earthiness was stronger now, and as he approached her from one side, she seemed blissfully unaware of any possible interuption, completely focused in her own world.
Reaching out his hand, he laid his leather palm on her shoulder and squeezed lightly, his dark eyes catching hers for a moment. He sniffed again, as discreetly as possible, staring directly at her. A moment passed that seemed like forever, him latched onto her among the crowd, keeping her from moving. The cogs whirring in his head should have been audible, his thought process visible.
She was not like him. She was not lycanthrope born or bred. One may have touched her, marked her, brushed passed her, but she herself was clean, she herself remained just an odd difference from the other humans around him. He wanted to tell her to be careful, to tell this woman he'd never met, he'd never spoken to before to watch her back. But he didn't. He was here to lead a normal life, or as normal as he could.
'I'm sorry, you looked like someone I knew..'
The excuse was poor, but it was New York. Stranger things happened. Without waiting for a response he let her go and turned away, ducking his head, and attempted to put as much space between her and him as human possible, as fast as humanly possible.
Were Will to succumb to their sensuous tug, give in to the plathora of temptation around him, he would be lost in an almost euphoric state of mind, caught in ecxtasy so strong the most cleanly cut cocaine would pale in comparison. He would lose his self control, and he would become dangerous. He would lose what made him human. Masochistic really, coming to a place so alive and full of scents that one has no choice but to feel tempted to change, yet stops oneself for fear of it.
Shrugging his shoulders a little, and huddling into his thick jacket against the cold wind, he pushed past a few more people, attempting desperately to drag himself from the peripace on which he stood, all to ready to jump. Pushing himself through a few more people, he headed down a more deserted side street, taking to the shadows, and emereged on the other side, away from the chestnut store, but still surrounded by civilians. Then it was mid-day in New York City. Of course he was surrounded. Taking a few steps into the crowd, he began to regulate breathing between his mouth and his nose, taking less direct breaths in, heading toward Central Park, the open space giving him somewhere to take a break, somewhere to breathe normally without as much temptation.
And then it hit him, a scent that stood out among the others, more earthy in texture, more charred, tinged with dank musk of wet animal. Something was different, wrong almost. Sniffing the air as naturally as he could, William's button nose traced a perfect circle before him. People crashed into him from behind, muttering curses under their breath, telling him not to stop in crowds. But he couldn't help it, he was lost for a moment, lost in the scent of magic.
It had not been the scent he was trailing originally, and were it not for a vague similarity, the smell of animal, it may have only aroused a slight interest in him. But no, not when there was that fimiliarality, not when there was something interesting on its own, but further tainted with something that he was hunting.
His eyes scanned people ahead of him, attempting to put a face to the smell. Those before him bustled about, keeping themselves to themselves, some looking at his searching face with a mix of amusement and confusion. Taking a few steps forward, his head began to tilt, to pinball around from side to side, follwing the trail as best as he could. As it got stronger, he sped up, until he saw its source.
The girl was tall and slim, high cheekbones framing a pretty face, tanned skin seeming impervious to the paling effect of the cold weather. She moved unhindered by other people, seeming to move on imported air, noone touching her. The scent of earthiness was stronger now, and as he approached her from one side, she seemed blissfully unaware of any possible interuption, completely focused in her own world.
Reaching out his hand, he laid his leather palm on her shoulder and squeezed lightly, his dark eyes catching hers for a moment. He sniffed again, as discreetly as possible, staring directly at her. A moment passed that seemed like forever, him latched onto her among the crowd, keeping her from moving. The cogs whirring in his head should have been audible, his thought process visible.
She was not like him. She was not lycanthrope born or bred. One may have touched her, marked her, brushed passed her, but she herself was clean, she herself remained just an odd difference from the other humans around him. He wanted to tell her to be careful, to tell this woman he'd never met, he'd never spoken to before to watch her back. But he didn't. He was here to lead a normal life, or as normal as he could.
'I'm sorry, you looked like someone I knew..'
The excuse was poor, but it was New York. Stranger things happened. Without waiting for a response he let her go and turned away, ducking his head, and attempted to put as much space between her and him as human possible, as fast as humanly possible.
