Who: Hal Yorke and OTA What: Arrival in Lawrence Where: Main Street When: 21st Febuary Late night Rating: TBD Status: In Progress
It wasn't right. It wasn't routine. By 8am he had already been brought breakfast by Tom ready for the day of sitting around looking at the ever growing offensive mess. The wolf slept on the couch every night much as he had a bed. Just so Hal wasn't alone he supposed. Watching him. Playing the good little guard hound instead of giving him what he so desperately needed and craved. He fed him gruel instead of blood. Did the fucking dog know who it was he was dealing with...
Black eyes forced themselves back to brown as Hal Yorke climbed to his feet from where he had fallen, eyes still dull from fatigue. He'd had to relearn. All over again. How to fit in. How to be normal. It too time and even now he still found it difficult to walk down the street in this godawful town not entirely sure of where he was but knowing he was surrounded, just so surrounded by blood. It hadn't been that long and even of course when it had, Hal had been mostly kept away from people, because it was better that way. Safer. Better when no one got hurt.
He knew better though, he knew where that path lead and he was better than that. Turning over a domino in his hand. Hal began to work some things out. It was the New World of course, the accents gave that away. It was daytime, and much as the suns glare didn't have the thrall it once had on him he'd still rather it wasn't so bloody bright. And it was Kansas judging by the paper. Now at least he knew some things.
Though why on earth he was in Kansas and not Barry Island was not one of them.