OTA, debut~

[pixiesweat]

Days and nights didn’t matter anymore to Manuel. Before, he wouldn’t have been up before the sun started to set, unless Devin had work for him that needed to be done outside of regular fae hours. Now, it seemed like he was awake all the time. The noises of the city disrupted his sleep, when he managed to fall asleep at all. His neck was still stiff from the last awkward nap he’d had, curled up behind a dumpster. It didn’t bother him much.

The streets were the same as they’d always been. They still didn’t care for, or even notice, lost orphaned changelings living on their edges. Manuel had spent a lot of time in backstreets and alleys, sometimes hiding from the dawn, sometimes from nothing. For the most part he was ignored. Traffic and the sounds of city dwellers and tourists were more than enough to drown out the noise he made when he cried.

He didn’t know what day it was.

He used to be the cleanest, neatest looking street thug in Devin’s crew. Without even an overcrowded flophouse to call Home, that wasn’t possible anymore. He’d already collected his fair share of dirt. Locks of hair were escaping his ponytail. He had bloody scrapes on his chin and cheek that he didn’t remember getting, and his eyes were red from crying.

He did venture out, eventually. He still needed to eat. He’d ignored his stomach’s demands for long enough that it was starting to hurt. Hopefully, there would be food vendors out on the street again; they were quicker and easier to steal from. He’d only been walking for a few minutes before his mind wandered back to other things, and he forgot where he was going and why. He kept moving, though, heading nowhere, eyes focused on nothing.

((He’s not looking where he’s going, so feel free to have him walk straight into your character ^^ He’s fae but looks normal to regular humans. Things are a bit more complicated when it comes to other supernatural creatures, though, please see his wiki page for more details.))

OTA

[quartermaster_q]

Q'd never admit it, but he quite liked riding on the tube. He liked the way strangers were forced together, each demanding their space and ignoring one another's existence- despite the fact that they were often practically in one another's lap. In fact, tonight's ride home was a fine example of that, as Q sat trapped between two fairly young men who ignore him, and one another, while riding along in silence.

On Q's left was a small man, pale as death with hair that couldn't possibly be that shade of silver blonde naturally. Small and waif-like, he seemed to tremble as the doors slid open at each stop- until finally he rose, skittering off the train like some sort of nervous dog that had spent most of its life in its master's purse.

On the right, however, sat a very different young man. Tall and lean, but fit and still a bit tan from sun he'd certainly not seen in London. He appeared to be American, and he sat with his legs slightly spread, as if he owned the whole bloody train. ...Yes, definitely American this one. This one got off only one stop before his own, and Q watched him go, finding himself curious as to who the men were and what their stories were.

...Though that was one of the perks of being Q. He could do just that as soon as he got home. he could pull up their faces on CCTV, retrace their whole day, unravel their life stories... Perhaps he would- Right after he stopped off at his favourite cafe for a piping hot cup of tea.

(OTA- Couldn't decide who to post, so catch Logan, Winter, or Q as they get off at their separate stops. Make sure to let me know who you're tagging! XD)