[Raz had only been in Henrietta for a few days. He wasn't there for Aglionby; he was too old, to start with. For another, he had no money and no one to care about enrolling him. He'd already dropped out of high school at sixteen, more out of necessity than because of a dislike of learning. It was hard to go to school when you were on the run, but Virginia was across the country from California and maybe Valkyrie Productions wouldn't think to look for him this far away. Maybe he could finally stop looking over his shoulder all the time.
Barely twenty, he was a little older than most of the other people at the party he was attending, but he suffered from a babyface anyway. It would be easy for him to pass as eighteen or nineteen. The only thing he couldn't do was pretend to be a local. He was new and his West coast accent betrayed that. It didn't stop him from becoming just another face in the crowd though, accepting a pill when he was given one. He'd never done drugs in his life and nothing could have prepared him for the high.
It started off slow, easing him into it, making him feel warm and floaty and content in ways he'd never experienced before. 'Content' was foreign to him, above all else. His life had been rough and done him no favors, but he was a survivor.
By the time the high really came for him with a vengeance, he was making a fool of himself, laughing at anything that was even remotely funny. Eventually, he laughed at the wrong thing and a tall Aglionby boy got in his face, telling him to shut the fuck up. Obviously, Raz responded with make me, and the boy decked him in the face.
Though he was equally tall, Raz was skinny and not at all accustomed to fighting with his own body, so he staggered back, bounced off the side of a parked car, and hit the ground hard. His spine ached. His face ached. He inhaled some dirt from the field. Anger and adrenaline coursed through him and he unleashed his power without so much as a second thought.
From around the side of the car came low, ominous growls, nearly undetectable over the loud music. The sources followed quickly as two black dogs the size of wolves stepped into view. They looked like they were made of shadows, dripping, sinuous, lips pulled back to reveal teeth as white as their blank eyes.
The boy, who'd previously been moving to kick Raz, immediately scrambled backward. A few other people nearby realized the dogs were there and backed away too, shouting in either alarm or excitement--it was hard to tell.
Pushing himself up to his feet, Raz held onto the side of the car like he was worried he was going to get sucked off into space if he didn't--and he kind of was. Concerned, at least. He wasn't really going anywhere, but his high was still intense.]
If you know what's good for you- [He said, barely audible over the music as the dogs put themselves between him and the Aglionby boy.] -you'll leave me the fuck alone.
[He was making a scene, he knew he was. It was what had gotten him into trouble four years ago, but- he couldn't help it. He was impulsive; he acted on emotion, not logic. And besides that, he was too fucked up on whatever he'd taken to think anything was a bad idea right now.
He was still tempted, really tempted, to make an example of the guy, but decided he wasn't worth the effort. Instead, he wobbled his way through the crowd, dogs following him, to a slightly quieter part of the field. There, he leaned against the side of a BMW and sank to the ground, head in his hands. His nose was bleeding, just a little, but he was way more concerned with feeling like he was about to puke. It would be the icing on the cake though, so he was trying hard not to.]
1 dream magic boy for a dreamer / apparently I like party starters, whoops
Barely twenty, he was a little older than most of the other people at the party he was attending, but he suffered from a babyface anyway. It would be easy for him to pass as eighteen or nineteen. The only thing he couldn't do was pretend to be a local. He was new and his West coast accent betrayed that. It didn't stop him from becoming just another face in the crowd though, accepting a pill when he was given one. He'd never done drugs in his life and nothing could have prepared him for the high.
It started off slow, easing him into it, making him feel warm and floaty and content in ways he'd never experienced before. 'Content' was foreign to him, above all else. His life had been rough and done him no favors, but he was a survivor.
By the time the high really came for him with a vengeance, he was making a fool of himself, laughing at anything that was even remotely funny. Eventually, he laughed at the wrong thing and a tall Aglionby boy got in his face, telling him to shut the fuck up. Obviously, Raz responded with make me, and the boy decked him in the face.
Though he was equally tall, Raz was skinny and not at all accustomed to fighting with his own body, so he staggered back, bounced off the side of a parked car, and hit the ground hard. His spine ached. His face ached. He inhaled some dirt from the field. Anger and adrenaline coursed through him and he unleashed his power without so much as a second thought.
From around the side of the car came low, ominous growls, nearly undetectable over the loud music. The sources followed quickly as two black dogs the size of wolves stepped into view. They looked like they were made of shadows, dripping, sinuous, lips pulled back to reveal teeth as white as their blank eyes.
The boy, who'd previously been moving to kick Raz, immediately scrambled backward. A few other people nearby realized the dogs were there and backed away too, shouting in either alarm or excitement--it was hard to tell.
Pushing himself up to his feet, Raz held onto the side of the car like he was worried he was going to get sucked off into space if he didn't--and he kind of was. Concerned, at least. He wasn't really going anywhere, but his high was still intense.]
If you know what's good for you- [He said, barely audible over the music as the dogs put themselves between him and the Aglionby boy.] -you'll leave me the fuck alone.
[He was making a scene, he knew he was. It was what had gotten him into trouble four years ago, but- he couldn't help it. He was impulsive; he acted on emotion, not logic. And besides that, he was too fucked up on whatever he'd taken to think anything was a bad idea right now.
He was still tempted, really tempted, to make an example of the guy, but decided he wasn't worth the effort. Instead, he wobbled his way through the crowd, dogs following him, to a slightly quieter part of the field. There, he leaned against the side of a BMW and sank to the ground, head in his hands. His nose was bleeding, just a little, but he was way more concerned with feeling like he was about to puke. It would be the icing on the cake though, so he was trying hard not to.]