WHO: Hope Mikaelson & Open WHERE: Outside the Villa WHEN: Tuesday night WARNINGS: Wolfing out maybe? Teen angst for sure and cursing
Hope wasn't have an easy time. Not having anticipated a full moon while they were in a new location, she'd chosen to forgo the transformation. She didn't know where would be safe to go, to start. Then there were the other werewolves around—she could smell them—and she didn't feel like running into them like this. Besides, the whole thing hurt, so if she could avoid it, why not? Except she felt the unresolved magic bubbling under her skin all night and then she'd had thoughts about her dad showing up—or any of her family, really. That had left her an emotional mess and... UGH. Unlike last time, the crying she'd done hadn't made her feel any better. It was days later and she was still buzzing with it.
There were too many people in the room, and even though she still wasn't sure what the punishment for breaking curfew was, she was pretty sure it couldn't be worse than whatever she was going to do if she stayed there for one more second. Besides, neither of the guardians seemed to have magic so she was pretty sure she could take them if it came down to it. Which it might.
Out on the street, the city still felt like Satan's sweaty taint, and she was so tempted to cast some kind of spell to alleviate the heat, but there were still people around who might see her. Not as close as in the room, and other city sounds covered up the noise of them breathing, so it was at least slightly more bearable than the room she'd come from, crowd-wise. Fists clenched into tight balls and arms crossed over her stomach, she leaned against the walls of their prison while she considered her next move. Staying here was asking to be caught, but maybe that's what she really wanted. There was sure to be a fight if she was. But leaving could let off its own kind of steam.