West

The western part of the city is often home to the poorer residents. Here there is a grunginess that permeates the town from the graffiti on the once cleaned brick buildings to the broken and unmaintained architecture. Crime runs high within the western half of town, making it the home of supernatural gangs of illicit activities. Such activities are rarely reported, however, and most residents are distrustful of individual's of authorities, and often let the powerful supernatural beings sort things out amongst themselves. Be careful wandering the Western streets after the sun falls.

What You'll Find Here

Black Market
Cull & Pistol
Noah's Ark
Syn

Carolina Bedford

i've learned to slam on the brake


Posted on November 05, 2021 by Henry Tudor
West

I will

rise up

in spite of the ache

Whoever invented fishing should have made it a hair more exciting. Casting a string into the water and just sitting there, waiting, for someone to bite down onto a hook was not exactly high thrills. Not to mention, could there not be a little less barbaric a way to catch them than by shoving a sharp hook through their lip? Henry certainly didn't like getting poked by anything sharp so surely it could not be fun for the fish.

And yet...here Henry was, sitting on the edge of the dock, toes dancing with the water as fish came up to investigate. His hand held steady to the rod, his right fingers slowly reeling the line back in only to be able to cast it out again. He had been here for hours, it seemed (probably an hour tops), but he hadn't caught a damn thing. Nothing was biting, not even stealing his fresh worm bait. Fishing was dumb, he was certain.

And yet, Tet had encouraged him to find a hobby. He hated their new home, the yacht bringing up painful memories. He didn't spend a lot of time on it, only to sleep when he could not stand to be awake any longer. Tet had swore a hobby would be good for him, that it would help heal his mind. But the trauma ran deep and Henry wasn't sure if he would ever recover.

Fishing was probably the hundredth hobby he had tried. At first he tried gambling, boating, hunting. He'd even tried sports, shooting at the gun range, and even running. Nothing seemed to catch his attention. Today he was trying fishing. It appeared as though fishing would be quickly knocked off the list as well. He had the patience of a fly, no wonder he was bored as hell.

He felt a shift in wooden planks and hear them creak with the weight of another. He thought that maybe it was someone from the pack heading back to the yacht. He decided not to look. Perhaps if it was someone who meant him harm, then taking him out quick while he was unaware might be for the best. And yet, Henry couldn't deny the instincts that lived deep within him. Ears listened to each step, each creak of the dock boards. There was no way anyone could sneak up on him, no matter how much he might want them to.

Henry Tudor

I will rise a thousands times again


Replies