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Oct. 28th, 2017 02:19 pmMad Sweeney doesn't know what he's sensing, but whatever it is, it sure as fuck isn't human.
It's not like he has some sort of special talent for it, he's sure he walks past magical creatures every bloody day in Darrow and doesn't realize what they are. Sitting beside Spike in the bar he hadn't immediately been able to tell he was a vampire, but this is different. This is familiar. This is something from home.
That thought both excites him and frightens him just a little. Something familiar might be okay, but something from home might be a fucking disaster. Something from home might just be gunning for him or it might have claws or it might be something in Wednesday's pocket just as much as he is and that's not the sort of place anyone should be.
Best that he avoid it, whatever it is, but still he finds himself smoking and walking, moving in the direction that he feels pulled.
What he doesn't expect is a bloody playground, a tiny child and a big fluffy dog. It's the sort of thing that should seem like a joke, only he knows it isn't. This entire city should be a big fucking joke and it's not, it's real and he's here and whatever this little girl is, it breathes like Ireland.
As he approaches slowly, he wonders if she can feel him, too. If she has the slightest fucking idea what he is.
It's not like he has some sort of special talent for it, he's sure he walks past magical creatures every bloody day in Darrow and doesn't realize what they are. Sitting beside Spike in the bar he hadn't immediately been able to tell he was a vampire, but this is different. This is familiar. This is something from home.
That thought both excites him and frightens him just a little. Something familiar might be okay, but something from home might be a fucking disaster. Something from home might just be gunning for him or it might have claws or it might be something in Wednesday's pocket just as much as he is and that's not the sort of place anyone should be.
Best that he avoid it, whatever it is, but still he finds himself smoking and walking, moving in the direction that he feels pulled.
What he doesn't expect is a bloody playground, a tiny child and a big fluffy dog. It's the sort of thing that should seem like a joke, only he knows it isn't. This entire city should be a big fucking joke and it's not, it's real and he's here and whatever this little girl is, it breathes like Ireland.
As he approaches slowly, he wonders if she can feel him, too. If she has the slightest fucking idea what he is.
