Magnus blinks. A few moments ago he was in his little antique shop, New York, and upon turning around to see to something, finds himself in a strange, badly furnished room. Not his shop, not the apartment above. This is not home. He knows immediately. The place doesn't smell like any part of New York he knows, nor London, nor Paris. If smells infinitely worse, despite the fact it looks a little like home at first glance. But it isn't.
Some people would panic. Some people would try and pinch themselves to wake up. Some people would break down in fear.
Some people are not nearly two and a half centuries old. Magnus simply inspects the room, looking over what poor decorating choices have been made, and then finds his way out, out of the apartment block itself, and down into the streets. An unfamiliar street in a completely unfamiliar city. He won't learn anything stood here, that's for sure.
Carpe noctem- carnival
There are times when being human-shaped is extremely advantageous. There are times when the wolf gets more answers.
The carnival seems to a good place to try and find more information. People are normally more relaxed, people talk more freely. And who is to notice a dog, another dog, hanging around waiting for scraps? The fact of the matter is that this dog isn't begging, and is a lot larger than the other strays sniffing for dropped hot dogs. Grey at the muzzle, it moves without any attempt to hide, behind a group, tail up as if it's a pet out enjoying the company of its people.
The group of humans are talking excitedly, although not happily, about demons. A strange topic for a carnival, although perhaps the season accounts for it- All Hallows Eve may be as popular here as in the States. But there seems to be something else- attacks? Sea monsters?
Now that is interesting.
Carpe vinum- the party
In truth, this is no different from any party that Magnus has ever attended. Perhaps there is a little more confusion regarding the nature of this place, of who is in control, of why they are here, but that is by-the-by. There are clear groups here: the movers and the moved. Those who ooze confidence and those who wish that they did. He remembers the same thing in Paris in the days before the streets ran red, he remembers similar division within the ballrooms of Victorian England. The same thing occurred in the fancy restaurants of New York, where the rise and fall of nations were planned over dessert.
This City is nothing new. And while he discovers more about it, he has no problem with sitting back in one of these poorly padded chairs and watching the crowd move. Yes, some may think he looks strange, his clothing old fashioned, his mannerism aloof, but Magnus cares little for the snap judgements others will make of him.
Magnus Macaire, Esquire. Werewolf. (An OC)
Magnus blinks. A few moments ago he was in his little antique shop, New York, and upon turning around to see to something, finds himself in a strange, badly furnished room. Not his shop, not the apartment above. This is not home. He knows immediately. The place doesn't smell like any part of New York he knows, nor London, nor Paris. If smells infinitely worse, despite the fact it looks a little like home at first glance. But it isn't.
Some people would panic. Some people would try and pinch themselves to wake up. Some people would break down in fear.
Some people are not nearly two and a half centuries old. Magnus simply inspects the room, looking over what poor decorating choices have been made, and then finds his way out, out of the apartment block itself, and down into the streets. An unfamiliar street in a completely unfamiliar city. He won't learn anything stood here, that's for sure.
Carpe noctem- carnival
There are times when being human-shaped is extremely advantageous. There are times when the wolf gets more answers.
The carnival seems to a good place to try and find more information. People are normally more relaxed, people talk more freely. And who is to notice a dog, another dog, hanging around waiting for scraps? The fact of the matter is that this dog isn't begging, and is a lot larger than the other strays sniffing for dropped hot dogs. Grey at the muzzle, it moves without any attempt to hide, behind a group, tail up as if it's a pet out enjoying the company of its people.
The group of humans are talking excitedly, although not happily, about demons. A strange topic for a carnival, although perhaps the season accounts for it- All Hallows Eve may be as popular here as in the States. But there seems to be something else- attacks? Sea monsters?
Now that is interesting.
Carpe vinum- the party
In truth, this is no different from any party that Magnus has ever attended. Perhaps there is a little more confusion regarding the nature of this place, of who is in control, of why they are here, but that is by-the-by. There are clear groups here: the movers and the moved. Those who ooze confidence and those who wish that they did. He remembers the same thing in Paris in the days before the streets ran red, he remembers similar division within the ballrooms of Victorian England. The same thing occurred in the fancy restaurants of New York, where the rise and fall of nations were planned over dessert.
This City is nothing new. And while he discovers more about it, he has no problem with sitting back in one of these poorly padded chairs and watching the crowd move. Yes, some may think he looks strange, his clothing old fashioned, his mannerism aloof, but Magnus cares little for the snap judgements others will make of him.