↳ shady street

@✧ caoimhin The day was bright, the frosty breeze cutting through the streets offering a cold glow from the sun. But, the beginning of the winter brought about ice dotting the roads - frozen rain and dew from the morning that made the paths slippery and deadly. Having taken himself out for a mid-day coffee, a warm, velvety mocha to help motivate him for the rest of the day. Because little treats were necessary after working hard, or he’d likely sit around all day procrastinating on any work he needed to get through. Weaving through the alleys in a well-mapped route of twists and turns, he made his way in the direction of the apartment. Sure, his life hunting and murdering his fellow creatures - before he’d known he was one of them, of course - was coming up to being six years behind him, but that was a mere fraction of time in the grand scheme of things. The people of the city remembered things for a very long time. He didn’t think the past was known by any who’d hunt him down for it, but he couldn’t be too careful. Couldn’t let it catch up to him, as much as he wanted to atone for it now.

The voice of voices made him grimace, but he kept walking. Nobody would be looking for trouble in broad daylight. Besides, he had to stop being so jumpy all the time, they were going where they were going, he was going where he was going. A careless glance down the alley he passed made the changeling pause in his tracks. Frozen, for a moment. Two children - faerie, he didn’t know how he could tell, but he just could, maybe it was a homing instinct lying somewhere deep inside him - faced off against two, much older kids, possibly verging on young adults judging by height alone, seemingly who’d stopped them. At first, it might’ve seen like joking around, from the barking laughter of the two older kids. However, the faces of the fae children held anything but that. They were being taunted, he was sure of it, with one of the grand weaknesses of the fair folk. Fang shuddered. It hit a little close to home. When he’d been really little, older kids would throw cutlery - either stainless steel or iron, they’d have him guess because he was seemingly allergic to the metal. Now, he was wiser to the weakness.

With a quick shake of his head, he drew himself up tall, the stiffness in his limbs replaced by a fierce frustration for the two kids. One stride quickly became two, and as he made to approach he raised his voice, oblivious, to the presence of any potential backup. “Hey. What’s going on here?”

　　　↳ ᴇɴᴅ ꜱᴇᴀꜱᴏɴ ᴏɴᴇ. ↰