Reagan Venandi
the hunter | #3592a0 | outfit
The night had gone by, perhaps more slowly than it had come. Reagan could not remember if she had successfully closed her eyes or not, or if she was maybe sleeping wide awake in some crazy nightmare scene. A lot of things have been brought to a new and uncomfortable light - she may have seen the Alpha for who he was as a human, and she now had undeniable proof that Riley was something else entirely. The greatest confusion comes, not for seeing them for what they were when the moon rises and the night takes them over, but in knowing that they weren't bad people. Her mother always said that these monsters were so because they were also monsters in their mortal lives.
But that seemed untrue.
She's also pissed at Brook - so pissed that she can't fathom seeing his face without also watching as her palm uncontrollably connects with his overly handsome face. She doesn't know what happened to him or where he went, either, and he let her worry like that. It almost made her sick to her stomach. He's such an asshole.
What was she supposed to do, though? Armed with all of this information, does she just go out into the light of day and roam the school like nothing ever happened? Was Riley going to be scared of her now? Most of all - was there something for her to be scared of? Maybe there was. Maybe there wasn't. She didn't quite know right now.
The first rays of a Saturday morning sunrise peek through the curtains, and Reagan finally rolls herself out of bed. After a very slow shower, if one could call it a shower and not contemplating in a sauna, she tugged on a pair of bright pink leggings, a sports bra, and some running shoes. There are a lot of things to do right now - errands to run. She had to go to the store, maybe get through a workout at the gym, go for a run, take a look over the armory, avoid people if that was possible. Her mother was far too busy with hunter stuff to deal with her today, and Reagan was fine with that.
She spent most of the morning to the early afternoon by herself, but that was just her life.
By the time the late afternoon rolled about, around three pm or so (she wasn't keeping track), she had accomplished all of her tasks and slipped into a t-shirt sans bra, jeans, and some white flats. She didn't look her best - a face without much makeup save for brows and a spot of mascara, a light dusting of pink for her lips. Her hair was obviously towel-dried and laid a bit messily, and the dark circles under her eyes accented her just rolled out of bed look.
She dipped out of the house and strolled down the streets of the town, which are always busy at this time of day. Children were with their parents at the park, families roamed hand-in-hand to this shop or that. It was just small-town America doing what it does best. The only thing that separated it from the rest was that the residents seem to always be a little more alert, but not for all the reasons you might think.
There was police activity at the school; an active crime scene since the Chimera Amanda chomped a boy to death. The Sheriff was there along with other authority figures; many of which operated under the long lineage of hunters and or other Supernaturals since the town's conception. While the Sheriff was not in the know of all the Supernatural stuff, his concern for a death in a town like this was not at all surprising - he was very much on the alert. This place hasn't seen a ton of murders for a long time, just the every now and again tragic accident; like the one that had awoken the Nemeton. That was ruled as an accident, and it was case closed.
This, though, was different. Reagan stood back behind one of the buses; a palm placed on the yellow surface as she peeked around its back corner. They even called in animal control. Everyone who was anyone was here, and that included friends of her mother that operated as a deputy or two and even the principal. The crime scene tape was stretched across the doors of the Beaumont High, and parents were going to get the call that school would be canceled for Monday.
She turned around and placed her back against the bus, looking up at the clear blue skies. She pushed herself away and started to walk in the other direction, making a mental note to grab a friend and come by the school later. Maybe Brook, after she's done giving him a piece of her mind.
But that seemed untrue.
She's also pissed at Brook - so pissed that she can't fathom seeing his face without also watching as her palm uncontrollably connects with his overly handsome face. She doesn't know what happened to him or where he went, either, and he let her worry like that. It almost made her sick to her stomach. He's such an asshole.
What was she supposed to do, though? Armed with all of this information, does she just go out into the light of day and roam the school like nothing ever happened? Was Riley going to be scared of her now? Most of all - was there something for her to be scared of? Maybe there was. Maybe there wasn't. She didn't quite know right now.
The first rays of a Saturday morning sunrise peek through the curtains, and Reagan finally rolls herself out of bed. After a very slow shower, if one could call it a shower and not contemplating in a sauna, she tugged on a pair of bright pink leggings, a sports bra, and some running shoes. There are a lot of things to do right now - errands to run. She had to go to the store, maybe get through a workout at the gym, go for a run, take a look over the armory, avoid people if that was possible. Her mother was far too busy with hunter stuff to deal with her today, and Reagan was fine with that.
She spent most of the morning to the early afternoon by herself, but that was just her life.
By the time the late afternoon rolled about, around three pm or so (she wasn't keeping track), she had accomplished all of her tasks and slipped into a t-shirt sans bra, jeans, and some white flats. She didn't look her best - a face without much makeup save for brows and a spot of mascara, a light dusting of pink for her lips. Her hair was obviously towel-dried and laid a bit messily, and the dark circles under her eyes accented her just rolled out of bed look.
She dipped out of the house and strolled down the streets of the town, which are always busy at this time of day. Children were with their parents at the park, families roamed hand-in-hand to this shop or that. It was just small-town America doing what it does best. The only thing that separated it from the rest was that the residents seem to always be a little more alert, but not for all the reasons you might think.
There was police activity at the school; an active crime scene since the Chimera Amanda chomped a boy to death. The Sheriff was there along with other authority figures; many of which operated under the long lineage of hunters and or other Supernaturals since the town's conception. While the Sheriff was not in the know of all the Supernatural stuff, his concern for a death in a town like this was not at all surprising - he was very much on the alert. This place hasn't seen a ton of murders for a long time, just the every now and again tragic accident; like the one that had awoken the Nemeton. That was ruled as an accident, and it was case closed.
This, though, was different. Reagan stood back behind one of the buses; a palm placed on the yellow surface as she peeked around its back corner. They even called in animal control. Everyone who was anyone was here, and that included friends of her mother that operated as a deputy or two and even the principal. The crime scene tape was stretched across the doors of the Beaumont High, and parents were going to get the call that school would be canceled for Monday.
She turned around and placed her back against the bus, looking up at the clear blue skies. She pushed herself away and started to walk in the other direction, making a mental note to grab a friend and come by the school later. Maybe Brook, after she's done giving him a piece of her mind.