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Week One : Saturday Night
Who: Svetlana and (Open)
Where: Zephir House
When: Saturday Night
Svetlana was perched on top of the building staring out at the endless black and white spotted sky. She had foregone shoes in favor of feeling the stone beneath her feet curling her toes over the edge of the ledge. Half sitting half leaning she lit a cigarette and contemplated the night sky. It was a comforting thing the night. She thrived in the night and could feel it almost singing out to her. Depending on the time during the lunar cycle it could be a comforting reminder of what she was or a uncontrollable urge to leap from anything higher than a foot off the ground. It was impossible to understand if you weren't a were animal, that intangible power that the moon had over you. The way that the glowing night seemed to live in your very blood.
Opening a pack of French cigarettes she pulled out one of the thin black sticks. Bringing it up to her mouth she picked up the old bottle style lighter she had for when she was at home and lit the end. Inhaling slowly she contemplated the way the stars seemed to twinkle off the glass from her lighter. She had found the antique glass lighter in the warehouse her father had underneath their house in St. Petersburg. The problem with living as long as they did was that you tended to acquire a lot more junk and werebirds were notorious hoarders. You never would know when you need something again. If you went deep enough into the warehouse you would undoubtedly find relics from the days when the Vikings used to ride their long boats down Russia's great rivers to the black sea.
Setting the lighter down on the stone next to her legs she took a slow drag on her cigarette. The night air felt cool on her skin. She had foregone wearing a sweater preferring to just wear a loose dark purple shirt dress and a pair of black tights. Rarely did she wear clothes that could be considered confining, most of her clothes consisted of short dresses that seemed to float as she walked. A creature of the air it nearly sent her into a panic whenever she felt trapped to the ground. Which is why late at night when she had barely been at this school a week she was sitting on the roof watching the moon grow fuller and fuller. She longed for it to become that perfect silvery orb so that she could once again take to the sky.
Her father for all his failings had mastered changing in the time around the moon. He was still controlled by the cycle itself but he had a few more days of true freedom. Sighing Svetlana crossed her arms over her knees leaning her chin down to rest on them. She had wanted to come to this place but the longer she was here the more she hated it. All those little freedoms she had enjoyed were going to be stripped away she could feel it. They had already made her take some class that was populated with turned humans. Turned weres had always made her uneasy, there was something unnatural about them. They didn't understand about flocks or families, they were outcasts from their own kind. Lifting her head she took another slow drag on her cigarette not even noticing that she was no longer alone on the roof.
Where: Zephir House
When: Saturday Night
Svetlana was perched on top of the building staring out at the endless black and white spotted sky. She had foregone shoes in favor of feeling the stone beneath her feet curling her toes over the edge of the ledge. Half sitting half leaning she lit a cigarette and contemplated the night sky. It was a comforting thing the night. She thrived in the night and could feel it almost singing out to her. Depending on the time during the lunar cycle it could be a comforting reminder of what she was or a uncontrollable urge to leap from anything higher than a foot off the ground. It was impossible to understand if you weren't a were animal, that intangible power that the moon had over you. The way that the glowing night seemed to live in your very blood.
Opening a pack of French cigarettes she pulled out one of the thin black sticks. Bringing it up to her mouth she picked up the old bottle style lighter she had for when she was at home and lit the end. Inhaling slowly she contemplated the way the stars seemed to twinkle off the glass from her lighter. She had found the antique glass lighter in the warehouse her father had underneath their house in St. Petersburg. The problem with living as long as they did was that you tended to acquire a lot more junk and werebirds were notorious hoarders. You never would know when you need something again. If you went deep enough into the warehouse you would undoubtedly find relics from the days when the Vikings used to ride their long boats down Russia's great rivers to the black sea.
Setting the lighter down on the stone next to her legs she took a slow drag on her cigarette. The night air felt cool on her skin. She had foregone wearing a sweater preferring to just wear a loose dark purple shirt dress and a pair of black tights. Rarely did she wear clothes that could be considered confining, most of her clothes consisted of short dresses that seemed to float as she walked. A creature of the air it nearly sent her into a panic whenever she felt trapped to the ground. Which is why late at night when she had barely been at this school a week she was sitting on the roof watching the moon grow fuller and fuller. She longed for it to become that perfect silvery orb so that she could once again take to the sky.
Her father for all his failings had mastered changing in the time around the moon. He was still controlled by the cycle itself but he had a few more days of true freedom. Sighing Svetlana crossed her arms over her knees leaning her chin down to rest on them. She had wanted to come to this place but the longer she was here the more she hated it. All those little freedoms she had enjoyed were going to be stripped away she could feel it. They had already made her take some class that was populated with turned humans. Turned weres had always made her uneasy, there was something unnatural about them. They didn't understand about flocks or families, they were outcasts from their own kind. Lifting her head she took another slow drag on her cigarette not even noticing that she was no longer alone on the roof.
