Leave No Stone Unturned, Leave Your Fears Behind

Beep... Beep... Beep... Beeep.

Drowsily, the were turns within the warm cocoon of those cheap hotel sheets, summoned from the dark embrace of sleep and slowly back into the real world. The old bed creaks with his movements as he shifts to where he is laying on his right side now, the springs bending and shifting as the weight is moves closer to the edge. It takes him a moment to drag the consciousness to the forefront of his mind, heavy hazel eyes attempting to blink away the tiredness that slowly releases its hold of him. Pulling a strong arm out from under the softness of his pillow, the man reaches for the blaring digital clock on the nightstand made of scuffed wood, fingers fumbling over the plastic body of the screaming device until finally they locate the "off" button, clicking it to silence that relentless beeping sounds even though it has been Roman himself who had set it the night before. He lay there in the comforts of his bed, the steady rise and fall of his bare chest beneath the blankets quickening ever so slightly as he pulls himself further from that state of restless slumber. A soft groan is the only sound now that fills the small confines of the temporary home he'd made for himself what felt like forever ago, even though in all reality only two months have passed since Roman had stumbled across the city teeming with a magic which had acted much like some inexplicable pull on the were unlike anything he'd felt before in all the places he'd wandered through. It had been almost magnetic as it drew him further in, and at first Roman had simply assumed that it was only due to him having never really stayed in a city this vast and populated. He very well could have meandered through only to vanish as though he has never been there, something the were had a tendency of doing. Most times, he would find a decent place to stay the night, work an odd job in the morning, find a little diner where he would indulge in a warm meal, and then disappear by the final hours of the evening as the last dying light of the setting sun would paint the sky a brilliant display of warm gold, flushed pink, and fierce orange.

And yet, he'd stayed. Now, he awakens to another day in the city of Sacrosanct.

He yawns, mouth gape as he takes a hand and runs those fingers through golden-brown hair as he continues to fight against the temptations of slipping back into the embrace of sleep for just a few more minutes. Turning his gaze from the stark white ceiling above and towards the red light of the alarm clock, his mind registers the time with another soft inward groan. It was six o'clock in the morning. Normally, he would have slept into the later hours of the morning, taking his time to find wakefulness before getting up and decidedly getting dressed to venture through the streets of the city. However, it had been just yesterday when Roman had happened upon the opportunity to earn a little more cash to pay towards his stay here as well as another cooked meal rather than the game he hunted on the furthest outskirts where most of his kind seemed to also run through. Finally, the man is able to convince himself that he needed to get up, pushing himself from the somewhat scratchy hotel covers and into a sitting position at the edge of the queen-sized bed, bare feet touching upon the thin, ages beige carpet of the studio room that was the closest thing to home Roman had in years. He had promised the elderly woman that he would be there at her home in Dupont Circle bright and early the following morning to help with the unruly shrubs and whatever else she would require of him, and it just so happens that this was the morning she would be expecting him at seven o'clock sharp. If nothing else, the were was always where he'd promised to be, taking seriously what it meant to give another his word, even when the odds that he would ever see them again were next to none. So, he stands up and makes his way across the room, entering into the cramped but sufficient bathroom where he reaches through the opaque waterproof curtains draped across the stall and turns on the cool water. It seemed a little pointless for the man to be getting a shower before going to work in what was likely to be a hot summer afternoon, but he needed the extra encouragement to fully shake the tiredness from his muscled build.

Refreshed from the cool shower and dressed in his faded relaxed-fit jeans and surprisingly stark and stainless white button-up shirt with sleeves rolled up to the bend in his arm, the first two buttons are left undone - he hated the feeling of something tight around his neck, though for what reason he had no real explanation to - as he slips into his pair of worn tennis shoes, one of the only two pairs the were owned considering he'd always traveled lightly given his nomadic nature. This particular pair were torn in a few places, the soles scuffed and even beginning to fray from the rest of the shoe from the labors that they've endured. He examines them as he ties them on, acknowledging that he would soon need to stop by the second-hand store on the east side of the city and find another pair before these ones finally succumbed to the wear and tear of what he put them through. Ready for the day ahead, he moves to the small two-seat table by the window, retrieving his wallet and hotel key, placing them into the pocket of his jeans before reaching for the front door and stepping outside, into the early morning air that was thankfully still cool from the night before. With any luck, it wouldn't be as hot as it had been yesterday, but the were certainly didn't hold his breath on such a thought. It had reached one-hundred degrees at the highest point yesterday, it was more probable that the midday temperatures would reach the same intensity, though perhaps he would be done with his tasks before then. Locking the door behind him, Roman turns to the streets and begins to make his way towards the southern district, blending easily into the ever-churning crowd of unknown faces just as the body he regarded himself as. It was not from lack of confidence that he looked upon himself in such a light, rather it was more out of the fact that only a sparse few even knew of him and the name that he freely offered them, a small token of common respect the lion was content to give though it hardly ever went past that common formality and casual conversation. Roman had never been the best at opening up to others, seeing such a thing as only a means to let someone into his life when he was never sure just how long he would remain before disappearing almost as though he'd never been there at all, and the last thing the were ever wanted was for someone to be hurt by the irrefutable way that he was.

Roman reaches 486 Valencia Way perhaps a few minutes early, having set a steady yet easy stride for himself as he'd made his way from one the eastern side of the city to the southern, stopping only when the signals commanded him to only to diligently continue on his trek when they would turn green and give the pedestrians right of way. He pauses there for a moment at the white picket fence, hazel eyes studying the aged wood and realizing that they were in near desperate need for w fresh coat of paint. Perhaps this would be part of his task list she would have for him, and if not then he would feel compelled to offer her this service even free or charge. It had been evident to the were when he'd met her in the parking lot at one of the local markets she was either a widow or simply lived alone, and it called to a softer part of the man to help her with those bags of groceries. He had hardly expected for her to offer him work, yet when she did he had accepted it graciously, knowing well that he would need to fill his wallet soon lest the owner of the hotel come to his door expectantly. After a moment, he allows himself entrance through the gate, latching it closed behind him before walking along the unkempt walkway that led to the front porch. He knocks on the white wood of the door, and only briefly is he left to patiently wait before keen senses can hear the faint shuffling of movement behind it. When it opens, Roman is met by the same sweet smile he'd seen yesterday, a kind grin of his own etching into his chiseled features."Well, good morning, Mr. Royce. You're right on time, I see. I just made a fresh pot of coffee, would you like some before you get to work on that overgrown yard of mine?", she greets cheerfully, the invitation having the man's grin widen ever so slightly."Thank you for the offer, Miss Hahn, but I'm alright. Where would you like for me to begin?", he replies courteously, hoping not to offend her for declining and yet he was hopeful to at least get the most difficult of the chores she would give him done before the heat of the day would settle over Sacrosanct."If you insist. I would think mowing and was eating would be a good place to start. Then you can trim the hedges along the fence and the side of the house before watering the flowerbeds in the backyard", she says then, a gentle humor illuminating her chocolate eyes as she gives him the directions he sought to carry out dutifully."I'll get started right away", he replies in tenor tones, giving her a nod before she thanks him once again and disappears into the comforts of her home.

Unbuttoning his shirt and sliding it off his shoulders to drape it over the railing on the porch, he moves into the backyard and towards the shed where he was confident all the tools he would need would be found there. It was a shorter list than he expected, though there was no denying that mowing would take him the longest with how large the front and back yards were. Disappearing into the shed, he gathers everything he would need and begins his first task of the day. Pushing the self-propelled lawn mower into the yard, he reaches for the starter cord and with a swift pull, the machine starts. He is precise and careful in the way that he cuts the grass, ensuring that it looked neat and we professionally done as he could, first tending to the front yard before making his way around the house and to the back. He doesn't bother to worry over how much time it takes for him to finish what was sure to be the most labor-intensive part, sun-kissed skin already gleaming and slicked with sweat when he disengages the mower and pushes it back towards the shed. Taking care to clean it before turning the machine back to its original place, he then retrieves the weedwhacker and skirts along the perimeter. This task does not take him nearly as long as mowing, and just as he does with the mower, he cleans the device before returning it, wanting everything to look as it did before he'd used it if not better. He pauses for only a moment to catch his breath, turning his hazel gaze to the rising sun and guessing the time to be around nine-thirty or so. After having cooled down some, he tends to the hedges, that careful attention to detail having him carefully trimming the stray branches so that everything seemed even. This almost takes as long as the mowing, simply because the were takes his times to be certain it each shrub was even before he moved on to the next, Roman so absorbed in his tasks that he hardly noticed the way that a pair of women eye him before continuing on their way down the sidewalk.

Once he is satisfied with the hedges, he walks back to the front of the house to see how it all looked only to find a glass of water waiting there for him beside his shirt. A warm smile touches his features as he takes a moment to enjoy the drink the elderly woman had surely left there for him, downing it quickly as he revels in the cool relief he hadn't realized he needed. Finally, placing the empty glass in the same spot he'd found it, Roman wipes down the hedge trimmers and places them in the shed next to the lawnmower and weedwhacker before moving returning to the front yard, unravels the hose on the side of the house, and begins with the last and easiest task she'd given him. This takes hardly any time at all, and by this point, the sweat that had long since dried. As he is reeling in the hose back into the coil he'd originally found it in, the man can hear the front door opening. He looks up only when he'd finished putting it away, seeing the smiling face of Mrs Hahn."It looks wonderful, Mr. Royce. Thank you so much for helping a lonely old woman with her yardwork", she says to him as Roman walks over to the front porch. He waves his hand gently, a warm grin upon his own features then as he comes to stand there beside the place where his shirt hangs."It was no trouble at all. Perhaps next week, I can paint your fence for you, free of charge. It could do with a fresh coat", he offers easily as the woman reaches out with paper bills in her hand. He is surprised that it was more than they'd agreed to, and he looks to her curiously, as if to say "Are you sure?", but this look only earns him a gentle and chiming note of laughter."Consider it extra for helping me with the groceries the other day. But if you would like to come back and paint that fence, I would certainly appreciate it. Perhaps next Tuesday? I'm sure you're a busy man", she says nonchalantly, Roman taking the money from her with a gracious smile and nod of his head."I will be here next Tuesday then, same time", he replies readily, feeling almost as though he owed her more work for what she'd given him. It was hard to find generosity in today's world, and for hers the were was very much grateful.

After bidding her a kind farewell, Roman slips his shirt back over broad shoulders and buttons it back up, though as always, he leaves the first three buttons undone. With nothing else planned and pulling the phone from his pocket to see that the time was now only just twelve-twenty, he contemplates what else he might occupy himself with. Almost subconsciously, the were finds himself making his way through the streets that would lead him to Hyde Park. It was a nice day, and thankfully not quite as hot as it had been yesterday. Not quite ready to retire to the darkness and quiet of his hotel room, he decides that relaxing in the park would be a pleasant and calming way to spend the rest of the afternoon. Following the flow of foot traffic, glancing lazily around him at the various shops and markets he was beginning to familiarize himself with each day that he remained within the city's limits, he soon observes the buildings growing smaller and the streets less crowded until finally hazel eyes can see the vast green of Hyde Park, a reprieve from the cold blacks and greys of the city's heart. Moving along the trail, he can see a group of young children climbing wildly over the playground in the distance, their bright laughter and shrill shrieks of delight having the man smile warmly as he settles there onto one of the benches beside the main trail. He draped his arms over the back of the hardy wooden surface, heaving a contented sigh as he simply lounges there, enjoying the lessened sounds of vehicles honking and people yelling at one another for one reason or another. It was a relief for him to be here, where everything seemed so much more peaceful and calm. He simply looks on at nothing and no one in particular, simply taking in the summer afternoon and allowing for himself to relax after a morning spent working to afford what little he did have. His thoughts drift like a leaf upon the soft summer breeze, and yet perhaps it was out of habit that he keeps his senses about him. After all, there was no telling where today would take him, and he'd rather be ready for what may come than find himself surprised.

Roman Royce