Willow Rosenberg (i_ampowerful) wrote in we_coexist, @ 2011-07-11 21:33:00 |
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Entry tags: | dinah lance, harry dresden, henry mccoy, jake chambers, willow rosenburg |
Loose on the City [Jake C, Willow, Hank]
(takes place at the same time as this thread)
Willow was starting to get the hang of this place. The streets changing still threw her off guard plenty of times, but at least she had a place to stay now. Apparently she was enrolled in school, doing something between psychology and computers. Not that she minded - those were both subjects she appreciated enough to be pleased about her schedule. She had her own room in the dorms as well. Another plus - she didn't want to deal with a roommate right now. Though the single bed was still unbearably lonely at times.
For now, the tactic was to stay away as much as possible, going back to her room only to change clothes or sleep. Studying was done on her laptop, wherever she wanted. Wifi connections were abundant in the City, it seemed.
Since it was a nice day, she was currently sitting under a tree, browsing a few websites for an upcoming paper on behavior modification and operant conditioning.
At the same time, Jake was enjoying his first day on his own. Without Father, that was. Father had given Jake the promised razor, and the plates that had been in his satchel. Not the satchel itself, but the plates were now stored in a low-slung leather bag lined in silk. He'd taken it from a woman and man as they were leaving a dinner place. They had slipped into an alley and made grunting noises while they touched one another. The way they were touching was violent, possessive. It had reminded Jake of a woman, sexy in a scrawny way, who had taken pills and gone to bed with sick friends. Someone he had known once, who hadn't returned the sparse love he'd tried to give.
Their grunting had driven him on, using the razor Father had gifted to him. The bag had very little blood on it when he was done, and he had emptied the contents to store the precious plates. Nothing in the bag had interested him. Both man and woman had been left in that alley, their mouths delicately carved into wide smiles even as their cold, empty eyes held shock and fear.
Father would have liked that. Jake found it pleasing to do something his dear Father would appreciate.
When he saw the redhead sitting under the tree, Jake froze. He didn't know why, but something about the woman was calling to him. Seeking him. Trying to touch his mind in a way that was making him panic.
Willow was engrossed in a website and didn't notice the tug at her senses until it had become a hard yank. When she looked up, she felt cold. Unbelievable, bone-numbingly cold. Her eyes spotted a boy, widening as she realized he was the source of the violent chill. He looked maybe ten, with pale skin and a thin, haggard face. His hair was cropped short, with a mohawk band of longer hair on top, the sides too short to conceal the dark bruises on his scalp. He was too skinny, and looked as though he had lost the weight too quickly to be healthy. Clothes were dirty and stained, along with his hands. The leather bag strapped across his chest looked expensive and out of place. But it was his eyes that held her focus; pale blue chips of ice holding a feral rage.
He was a boy. Just a boy, not even old enough to have teased a girl with a first kiss yet, let alone shave. Part of her ached for that child, but the witch closed her laptop and set it aside, keeping her movements slow. Something was warning her that this child, like any predator, would strike without warning if she tried to bolt.
Her hands moved to her sides, carefully, until she could grip the grass under her. Fingers twined into the green stalks and the soil. The connection to the earth helped her find her bearings, helped ground her. Delicately, she reached out with her magical senses, trying to see what had enraged the boy.
Jake felt more pressure on his mind, and his lip curled back in a snarl. "Bitch," he growled. His mind was his own, to keep trapped, locked away. She couldn't open it. How dare she try! Before the word had finished forming on his lips, Jake's hand had dipped into the bag and was sending one of the razor-edged plates towards her.
Willow flinched at the reaction, the way the cold redoubled against her light brush against his mind. Instinct kicked in, and she fell to the left, right hand throwing up a shield in just enough time to deflect the weapon he'd thrown. It sank into the bark of the tree and she wasted a second, staring in shock at what was a steel-looking dinner plate quivering lightly, buried a third of the way into the solid wood.
That second cost her, because the boy was charging wildly at her. Willow let out a shrill scream, throwing out both hands as energy formed in a purple and silver defensive shield.