Halcyon Halls

Who: Ava and Caibre
When: Wednesday Night
Where: Isle of Bacalao Hotel
What: Snack time!

Ava smoothed down the collar of her Prada coat as she walked up to the hotel doors, glancing back as the cab that had brought her drove away. She'd been diligently attending classes, but her little indulgence had made her crave. Fresh blood beside the bagged blood...it was no question. She didn't have the self control to be able to keep herself from fresh blood when it was readily available, well, readily available meaning she had to call and make arrangements to get the fresh blood from a somewhat unwilling host.

Maybe she'd bitten off more than she could chew. Ava was certain, though, that she could handle a challenge. She brushed her hands down her coat and walked into the hotel, the doorman smiling politely at her as she returned the gesture. Her long hair was blond today, a method she liked to use when she was trying to be somewhat incognito, and she walked to the front desk, checking in and getting the key. The room was already paid for, so she didn't worry about that, and she took the elevator to the room in short order.

She was nervy. She wasn't even sure that he would show. After their encounter last weekend, she wasn't sure how he felt about being the blood bank for a wealthy pair of heiresses. She knew that Ana had to make her own arrangements, but still. She knew that she hadn't minded being a blood doll, but then, she also knew that she herself was pretty messed up. Finding her door, she slipped the key in and stepped into the sterile room, glancing around at the contents with mild interest.

It was a nice room, she'd made sure of that, but she didn't really care. Stripping off her coat, she tossed it onto a chair and then sighed. Walking to the door, she opened it to let in the fresh night air, stepping onto the balcony to survey the courtyard. Alright, she had to give the owners a little credit. It was a fairly nice hotel.

She waited, letting her hands rest on the balcony as she squeezed the iron gently. She hoped that she could control herself. Her professor in Bloodlust class (when she'd been able to pay attention in class, due to the fact that the man was ridiculously beautiful) had made it fairly clear that it was dangerous for young vampires like her, and most of the previous times she'd fed, she'd been in public or Saul had been there to stop her.

This time, she'd have to make sure that she was still careful. Hearing movement, she glanced over her shoulder and looked into the room.

Who: Jillian and Caibre
Where: Woods
When: Wednesday

It was evening, sunset to be precise, and Jillian couldn't think of a better time to go hiking. She preferred dawn and dusk to make her way through the wilds here, the streaked sky casting the forest in a kaleidoscope of colors, bringing out the true beauty of the greenery surrounding them. There weren't many people out and about at those times. Being a Wednesday evening, the chances were that everyone was doing home work or staying in to study. Heh. Which one was the more likely? Probably procrastination.

Hiking boots crunched over leaves and dead fall, branches crackling under her feet as she picked her way through the treeline. There was a path, but Jillian never followed paths unless she was actually lost, and that didn't happen often. She paused, reaching into her bag for her water, and she glanced up.

The feeling of being watched was one that Jillian got often. Being a psychic, specifically one that couldn't control her own powers, tended to give her that paranoia, but this was far more real. She was being watched. She looked around, her body stiffening, and she cleared her throat.

"Hello?" she called out, her lips tightening as she pushed off of the tree. She tried reaching out with her mind, but she got nothing. Damnit, work for once... Capping her bottle and slipping it into her bag, she started walking again, glancing over her shoulder once more.

Who: Caibre and Ita.
What: Caibre wakes up to being seriously screwed up.
When: Weds afternoon.
Where: His room, then outside.



Waking with an uncontrolled and rapid adjustment of his legs from a dream’s whim, Caibre’s head lulled drowsily to the side, pupils infinitely deep and large from his lethargic state before adjusting to the light. Taking a moment to recognize he was alone, he inhaled deeply, collecting the scent of the blonde whom had laid next to him only hours before on the sheets. Or so he tried.. Blinking a bit, he had difficulty detecting the aroma he knew had to be there. Squinting, he rolled over and nuzzled into the pillow she’d slept on. There it was... Maybe he was just sluggish still.

Slinging his long legs over the lip of the bed, he arched his muscled back while extending his arms out to either side, groaning somewhat as his body strained and stretched. Lifting his right hand toward his face, he went to rub the sleep from his eyes but instead poked one clumsily. Grimacing, Caibre muttered quiet annoyances about his own idiocy, wiping away the moisture that gathered in his irritated eye. Pushing to stand, he took one step before catching a foot in a pair of his jeans and down he went with a ponderous thud.

Prying himself off the floor a few inches, he remained in the push-up position. “The fuck... Get with it, man,” he scolded himself, carefully standing up. Looking around to ensure he wasn’t going to trip over anything else, the Werelion strode over toward the door, pulled a towel off the small shelf there and wrapped it around himself before marching down the hall to the washroom. Modesty was for wusses.

Assuming a shower would snap him out of his klutzy state, he turned the water on, adjusting the temperature to an acceptable level before stepping under the refreshing, relaxing stream.Shampooing his hair, he washed the suds out and reached for the soap. Lathering one arm, he swore as the slippery bar squirted out of his hand and fell to the shower floor. Glancing behind him, he snickered softly to himself, “Good thing this isn’t prison” before reaching down to collect it. Unfortunately, his ineptness seemed to continue, as he misjudged where the ceramic ledge where the soap rested when he stood up again, bashing the back of his head into it. God... That really fucking hurt. Ducking down, nearly slipping on the wet tiles, Caibre’s eyes went wide, arms bracing on the shower walls, heart pounding in his chest.

The Hell had Kat done to him last night?! Surely it wasn’t because of ..... no, that’s not possible. ..Was it? No. Unfortunately he’d continue to dwell on what exactly was wrong, because he had no idea that Leecee was actually to blame. He remembered Miklos saying he’d receive some kind of punishment, thought he’d already forgotten what, but.. becoming retarded – was that really in their power to do?

Scrambling out of the shower, he toweled himself off and looked at his set aside razor and shaving cream and mindfully passed with a swallow. He was scruffy after several days of neglect, but was so very not worth even trying. Sighing, Caibre brushed his teeth with extreme caution, conscientious of every stroke. The toothpaste tasted funny, though. Not as strong, and he could really only taste the mint, not all the other ingredients he usually could. Something was seriously screwed up.

Nearly running back to his room, praying he’d not asininely locked the door or anything as he turned the knob, the frazzled Were burst into his room and slammed the door behind him. “Calm the fuck down, and just relax. It’s just an off day,” he reassured himself, nodding to steel the nerves. Deciding on a run to burn off some of the restless jitters, he pulled on a shirt, some loose fitting slacks and shoes, and made his way hastily outside into the afternoon’s drizzling, not minding the rain while trotting down the path that would lead him on one of his favourite trails through the woods.

Who: Caibre, and Wes
When: Tuesday after classes
Where: Wes' office
What: Someone needs to be brought down a peg, or two.

It had caught him on a bad day, really, that had been the only reason he had spoken up to begin with. Any other time, he likely would have shook his head, felt a brief sympathy for the Instructor, and moved on to deal with his own shit. But, thanks to a shitty night a the shop, the day before he discovered the mess, Wes had already been in a pissy mood. He quickly decided that it could just as easily been his own class room, which made the whole thing not cool. Of course, once he found out who had been responsible for the mess, that left him gunning that much more to have the whole issue addressed. The bastard had insulted his kid, right from the start. He'd been on Wes' shit list, the minute he stepped foot on the island. Then there were the other incidents involving the kid, that tended to be passed around from teacher to teacher. The kid was trouble. Worse even, he had the temper, and manners of a five year old, but in a twenty something year old, were body. That was dangerous.

Yeah, he hadn't been completely alone in this fit throwing, but Wes couldn't really fault the girl for being an idiot, and sticking her nose where it didn't belong. The young women of Halcyon seemed it be plagued with stupidity lately. Wandering around, and approaching unstable supernaturals, for what... entertainment? Oh yeah, that was really fucking smart. Wes suspected that most could not yet sense the nature of all of those they approached. It could be something that came with age, but, it would be beneficial for everyone to have it. Would likely save people a great deal of grief. But, so long as the youth thought they were ten foot tall, and bullet proof... or looking to play the helpless victim for the attention, shit like this would continue to happen. Yeah, it was obvious Wes didn't miss being under a century old. The drama was ridiculous, as were the egos.

Pretty much everything thus far had been a big cocktail of things that annoyed him. Leecee, of course had to step in, thanks to the little girls involvement.... Wes didn't care much for Leecee, hadn't since the moment they met. Then again, who could really blame him for not digging someone who not only spoke down to him, insulted him by assuming he didn't really know a damn thing about tattooing, but also dissed his shop? Wes didn't think it was unfair to run of his first impression with the witch. So, when she contacted him, saying that she, and Miklos would handle things, and he should just step back, he had bristled. Really, if he hadn't had plans to speak to the kids before that, he certainly had afterwards. But, as it stood, Leecee was member of staff, as well as the guide teacher to both of his kids, so, he did his best to seem formally polite. Not an easy task for him, as he would much rather just tell everyone what he really thought of them.

There was a reason he'd requested they meet in his office, rather than his own classroom, or the shop even. Wes spent very little time in his office, and that was obvious by it's plan decoration, and neat appearance. It didn't fit his personality at all. But, when you had a were coming in, that was known for destroying things, the last thing you wanted, was to have them around stuff that you valued. The thick soled boots he wore, were propped atop his desk. The tops of which were tucked into his trademark, ragged, decorated, patched jeans. Today he had picked out an old, faded t-shirt, with 'The Coasters', written in a cracked graphic across the front. Yeah... he didn't look like he belonged in a classroom at all. A tattoo parlor, yeah, the stage, certainly.

Who: Caibre/Miklos.
What: Reluctantly facing the music.
When: Afternoon.
Where: Miklos' office.

Remorse was not really something he’d ever experienced, and upon receiving his guide teacher’s E-mail which demonstrated clear awareness of at least some of his recent actions, that remained unchanged. He anticipated that Miklos was likely only speaking with him out of necessity, not because the man had any desire to see some sort of betterment within his student. And with that knowledge Caibre devised his plan of attack. The electronic note had said to meet at the Vampire’s office at 3, and not to be tardy. On neither point would the Were disappoint.

Wanting to ensure he was more than presentable for this little rendezvous, he stood beneath the muscle-soothing, relentless stream of water from the shower’s nozzle above, head bowed moderately, mentally preparing by running through scenarios. How vexed would Miklos really be? It was conceivable he was rather irritated due to his antiquated nature – assuming that he was from around the time that art appreciation was faddish. The Vampire would not want to let go of that time and move into this century or anything, after all. Heaven forbid. Such blasphemous thoughts.

Drying off, Caibre clad himself in a gray polo shirt and jeans that made no real statement aside from the fact that he was blasé to the whole affair. Spending a moment or so on his hair, he did a once over in the mirror before heading out. Traveling down the hall at a pace a little faster than a downright saunter but with no great hurry, he eventually got to Miklos’ door and scanned his eyes down to the bottom of it with a faint, knowing smirk before tapping at the wood with his knuckles twice, waiting quietly.

Who: Caibre/Cissy.
Where: Pottery class.
When: Late evening.
What: Every time a werecreature needs to blow off some steam, art dies a little inside.


Anxiety had been germinating within his chest for several days with little to no release, which had, haplessly, bred a machine devoted to a sole and sinister purpose.... that of turbulent destruction. With his degree of arrogance, inner-disquiet, sex drive and yearning for lawlessness, Caibre could scarcely be blamed for needing to vent some frustration. Not that there weren’t other more appropriate, restrained ways to do so. But where’s the fun in that?

Having stewed long enough in his room, pacing and bouncing a ball off the wall until the neighbour hollered for him to “Stop it already! God!”, he fled the caging chamber to lurk down the halls murderously. Had anyone collided with him, he would have likely snapped their neck like a fresh carrot for kicks, but Fate was looking out for the innocent that evening. With no direction in mind, he found himself after a few moments in the general area of where the art classes were taught, pausing for a moment as his senses focused enough to recognize the door to the pottery class. The eclipsing, bloodthirsty fog lessened a little further as he identified the chamber’s door as one he’d been through numerous times. Making the connections, albeit slowly, Caibre realized where he was. He also recalled hating the class taught in there. How timely he wound up here.

Had he the intention to be anything even remotely resembling secrete, he might have elected to pick the lock with something, but no.. Caibre was Caibre, and a coiling of his right leg, followed swiftly by a boot to the face of the door sent the wood reeling away, hinges groaning in protest. Glancing from left to right, he snorted ferally, coming to rest in the center of the room, posture one of immoderate pomposity.

Picking up a clay figure of some lithe dancer, made by some anonymous student, he examined the piece of art before reeling backward to get some momentum, launching the unlucky masquerader head first into the blackboard. As it detonated, shattering into countless pieces and tumbling to the floor, he was incapable of concealing his grin. This was exactly what he needed.

Collecting a half finished dish, the irascible werelion frisbee’d it toward the opposing wall, snickering as it collided with some other random crap lined up on a shelf. God this was going to be fun...

Where: The beach
When: Afternoon
Who: Caibre and Kat
Rating: Adult themes.

It had been three days since she had last snorted something up her nose and to be honest, she wasn't feel completely horrible. Of course that was probably all thanks to the happy pills she was still popping but one step at a time here. At least she was making an effort to not be completely strung out while she was on vacation. Kudos for that. Another effort she was currently making was not to be completely pale once their plane landed. In the land of the tan, Kat was going to stick out like a sore thumb so she figured a little sunbathing after class was definitely called for.

After she had finished up with her last test for the day, she headed back to her room to drop off her books and change. Her blue bikini was quickly pulled on along with a pair of jean shorts before she reached for her towel and a bottle of tanning oil. Fortunately she had the whole supernatural thing working in her favor so she wouldn't completely burn to a crisp but she was hoping that she would be able to hold a tan for a little while. Though once she was back, it was all about the pasty white glow.

A cab was taken down to the beach once she was ready and soon her bare feet were padding along the sand. The weather was some of the best it had been in a long time and she half considered just playing in the water. Though as tempting as that was, she laid out her towel and took a seat. The cap to the oil was popped open and she drizzled the cool liquid down her arms and then her legs. It warmed as she rubbed it into her into her skin and she sighed as she stared out across the water. As much as she didn't want to admit it, it would be good getting away from the school for a little bit.

Once she was sufficiently coated, she laid back and shimmied out of her shorts. With her sunglasses perched on top of her nose, she closed her eyes and let the tension slip away as she listened to the sound of the waves crashing against the shoreline.

Who: Frankie and Caibre
When: Friday afternoon
Where: Outside around the school

Frankie was free. FREE!!! Her finals were, well, finalized. Over. Done. COMPLETE! And fuck if it didn't feel good. She'd survived her first round of major exams in her new non-traditional school. It had been stressful beyond belief, mostly because she'd not known what to expect. Her whole life had been spent in normal classrooms taking normal classes. Tests meant essays and multiple choice. They weren't easy, but they were, well, sorta predictable. Halcyon was anything but. Her flying final had been the hardest one, and she'd teetered a bit in the air, which was sure to lower her score, but at least she'd not fallen out of the sky. That was a huge improvement. She couldn't help but think that if she'd been using her wings since birth, that she'd be an expert by now. Really sucked that her family didn't own a monster mansion with huge open spaces inside for her to fly.

Oh well, she was 'flying' now. Or running really fast, to be more accurate. When she'd finished her last exam, Frankie ran back to her room and threw on some running shorts and a tank top. The shorts were bright yellow, the tank was boring white, though the neon pink sports bra underneath gave it some pizazz. She left her phone behind, something she nearly always did when running, and the keys to her room were stealthily hidden in the common room so she could find them when she returned.

All that taken care of, Frankie was out the door and bolting across the beautiful lawns surrounding the school. There were trails here and there, but Frankie usually just ran all over the place. She liked the feel of the wind rushing over her skin and through her hair, and the sun was shining bright. It was a glorious day for a sprint.

Other people seemed to be out enjoying the weather as well. She waved to people she was friends with, even stopped to chat with a few of them, but for the most part, Frankie kept moving. She had all sorts of energy to burn. Finishing her exams had lifted her spirits, giving her a boost of vitality.

Apparently, it made her a bit clumsy as well, because some monster root of a tree came out of nowhere and grabbed hold of her foot, sending her flying face forward into the ground with a loud 'oof!'. Well, that was gonna leave a mark. Frankie rolled over to sit on her butt, examining her knees. They weren't bleeding, thankfully, but they did have grass stains on them. Oh well, it would wash off. She licked her palms and rubbed at the marks, trying to clean them up so she could get back to running. "It's just grass, why the fuck does it stain so damn bad?" she grumbled to herself.