x
t r i s t a nx b u s s a r d
x
t h e x b r o t h e r
#394158 || Outfit || Location
#394158 || Outfit || Location
The man didn't want to be back here in Avery, Minnesota. Everything about it - to the vast lake at the mouth of a dense dark forest, to the very people that lived here - rubbed him the wrong way. It was almost as though something in the back of his mind kept trying to tell him - no - scream at him not to be here. Certain town occupants made the hairs on the back of his neck bristle, even now as he walked through the near empty streets in the silence of dusk.
A few of the residents were already staring at him, and it's in an odd way that he knew was strange but could not comprehend. Of course, they were curious about the return of the sibling pairing. Maybe some of them were even more wary of what that meant for the town if they chose to stay or even to sell. They already knew that his sister had always been enamored by Avery's enigmatic and wondrous landscape, but that didn't mean they wanted her to stay. A few could not care any less than they always did, but most of them had no desire for humans to figure out their peaceful sanctuary.
So they watch him wander the streets; a single hand in the right pocket of his black jeans, a stoic expression plastered on his face like the little sociopath he may or may not be, and an obvious disgruntled air about being here. But Tristan knows this place like the back of his palm. The town, the woods, some of the nooks and crannies. All of the places he used to sneak away to drink or smoke weed, or just to find some relative peace and quiet.
He had this favorite little diner that he used to go to when he was in his early teens. Tristan had never made friends like his popular sister, but he didn't mind grabbing a nice, thick, chocolate mint shake and counting his lucky stars that no one wanted to deal with him. Right now, anything was better than facing his dreamy-eyed sister, of whom could really use a reality check. She'd never be able to take care of, much less live, in a big estate by herself. He knew that it wasn't in her best interest, even if she loved this place to this very day.
He sighed, pushing open the door to the diner. Rumors were already flying around town in regards to what had happened to the Bussards in their estate. The medical examiner claimed that it was from natural causes, but neither Bussard had been particularly ill. A lot of Tristan accepted the report and wanted to move on, but a small part of him really questioned it just as much as it did the oddities of Avery.
He took a seat at the long sit down counter, plopping his ass down on one of the stools. He tried to not look at all of the curious glances being thrown his way, but couldn't help but to notice that some faces... never changed. Odd. He tried his best to smile, and it has a sort of dimply charm to it even if it was a sorely rehearsed gesture.
"Do you still make those chocolate mint shakes?" He inquired, folding a single arm across the counter and lifting his gaze to the waitress.
The lady, much older than he, smacked the counter and smiled so wide that it creased the skin at the corners of her eyes, "Anything for you, Tristan Bussard. It's been a long time, boy." A lot of these Supernaturals still knew their names. How could they not? There were so few Humans in the town it was hard not to. In fact, the Bussards had been the only humans for at least a few decades.
"Thanks," he sighed before he took a moment to look around. "This place hasn't changed, huh?"
The lady returned with his shake and placed it down in front of him. The spurting of whipped cream from a can grabbed his attention, and she shrugged at him while popping a cherry on top. "Avery's a small town, Tristan. What did you expect? Besides, we like it this way." She tilts her head down at him, "This one's on the house. I'm sorry about your parents. They were great people. Do you know what you're going to do with the house?"
"Sell it," he stated point blank, as if it were fact.
A few of the residents were already staring at him, and it's in an odd way that he knew was strange but could not comprehend. Of course, they were curious about the return of the sibling pairing. Maybe some of them were even more wary of what that meant for the town if they chose to stay or even to sell. They already knew that his sister had always been enamored by Avery's enigmatic and wondrous landscape, but that didn't mean they wanted her to stay. A few could not care any less than they always did, but most of them had no desire for humans to figure out their peaceful sanctuary.
So they watch him wander the streets; a single hand in the right pocket of his black jeans, a stoic expression plastered on his face like the little sociopath he may or may not be, and an obvious disgruntled air about being here. But Tristan knows this place like the back of his palm. The town, the woods, some of the nooks and crannies. All of the places he used to sneak away to drink or smoke weed, or just to find some relative peace and quiet.
He had this favorite little diner that he used to go to when he was in his early teens. Tristan had never made friends like his popular sister, but he didn't mind grabbing a nice, thick, chocolate mint shake and counting his lucky stars that no one wanted to deal with him. Right now, anything was better than facing his dreamy-eyed sister, of whom could really use a reality check. She'd never be able to take care of, much less live, in a big estate by herself. He knew that it wasn't in her best interest, even if she loved this place to this very day.
He sighed, pushing open the door to the diner. Rumors were already flying around town in regards to what had happened to the Bussards in their estate. The medical examiner claimed that it was from natural causes, but neither Bussard had been particularly ill. A lot of Tristan accepted the report and wanted to move on, but a small part of him really questioned it just as much as it did the oddities of Avery.
He took a seat at the long sit down counter, plopping his ass down on one of the stools. He tried to not look at all of the curious glances being thrown his way, but couldn't help but to notice that some faces... never changed. Odd. He tried his best to smile, and it has a sort of dimply charm to it even if it was a sorely rehearsed gesture.
"Do you still make those chocolate mint shakes?" He inquired, folding a single arm across the counter and lifting his gaze to the waitress.
The lady, much older than he, smacked the counter and smiled so wide that it creased the skin at the corners of her eyes, "Anything for you, Tristan Bussard. It's been a long time, boy." A lot of these Supernaturals still knew their names. How could they not? There were so few Humans in the town it was hard not to. In fact, the Bussards had been the only humans for at least a few decades.
"Thanks," he sighed before he took a moment to look around. "This place hasn't changed, huh?"
The lady returned with his shake and placed it down in front of him. The spurting of whipped cream from a can grabbed his attention, and she shrugged at him while popping a cherry on top. "Avery's a small town, Tristan. What did you expect? Besides, we like it this way." She tilts her head down at him, "This one's on the house. I'm sorry about your parents. They were great people. Do you know what you're going to do with the house?"
"Sell it," he stated point blank, as if it were fact.
x
x
j o v a n i x a q u i l a r
x
t h e x w e r e w o l f x s h e r i f f
#2f252a || Outfit || Location
#2f252a || Outfit || Location
Jovani found himself at the Bussard's residence, but sneakily so. He didn't want to cause a stir or surprise anyone that may be there, given that Micaela had likely made herself right at home. Something about the deaths of the Bussards didn't sit right with him, and he wanted to give the estate a little more attention. For the last couple of days he had been fighting with the medical examiner about seeing the bodies, but it seemed like there was too much politics involved. There's also the simple fact that no one wanted to acknowledge the possibility of foul play because Avery was supposed to be safe for all. Yes, even for the Bussards.
He didn't need to open the lavish gates because he could simply jump them, and he does with inhuman ease. No one wanted him sniffing around these parts, but the Bussards deserved to know the whole truth. Micaela was here, too, and if anyone was going to find anything out, he knew that it would be her. The girl had always been a little too curious for his taste. She seemed the type that would keep in contact with her parents, so to shove a certificate of death in her face and sit her down and explain that the cause was natural would probably raise some eyebrows. He tried to argue that she might dig into the town, but no one would listen to him. No one. They'd rather uproot the town than search for answers beyond what they wanted to believe.
The estate was built on top of a small hill that overlooked the rest of the town, and the Bussards liked to keep to themselves. It was old style Victorian - almost plantation home like. The grass was crisp and green, and each stone on the winding path was beautifully designed like a mosaic. He shoved his hands in his pockets and walked along the serpentine pathway, his darting from this area to that. He wasn't sure if Micaela was home or not. He wasn't sure sure if he cared.
Heavy footfalls carry the tall, brawny man to the entrance where he hesitates to knock. He looks over his shoulder at the sun is setting quickly as dusk slips into night time. He could come back later and look around in the shadows of the night when he knew that most humans slept, but he was here right now. Avery's citizens were looking at him to make sure that order remained, and that meant that he would have to interact with them. For better or for worse. Jovani felt that it would be easier for him to deal with Tristan, as that guy just wanted to get things done. Maybe he'd be here. Hopefully he'd be here.
He rose a hand, balled it into a fist, and knocked on the door. It was now and never, and he really needed to get inside of that house.
He didn't need to open the lavish gates because he could simply jump them, and he does with inhuman ease. No one wanted him sniffing around these parts, but the Bussards deserved to know the whole truth. Micaela was here, too, and if anyone was going to find anything out, he knew that it would be her. The girl had always been a little too curious for his taste. She seemed the type that would keep in contact with her parents, so to shove a certificate of death in her face and sit her down and explain that the cause was natural would probably raise some eyebrows. He tried to argue that she might dig into the town, but no one would listen to him. No one. They'd rather uproot the town than search for answers beyond what they wanted to believe.
The estate was built on top of a small hill that overlooked the rest of the town, and the Bussards liked to keep to themselves. It was old style Victorian - almost plantation home like. The grass was crisp and green, and each stone on the winding path was beautifully designed like a mosaic. He shoved his hands in his pockets and walked along the serpentine pathway, his darting from this area to that. He wasn't sure if Micaela was home or not. He wasn't sure sure if he cared.
Heavy footfalls carry the tall, brawny man to the entrance where he hesitates to knock. He looks over his shoulder at the sun is setting quickly as dusk slips into night time. He could come back later and look around in the shadows of the night when he knew that most humans slept, but he was here right now. Avery's citizens were looking at him to make sure that order remained, and that meant that he would have to interact with them. For better or for worse. Jovani felt that it would be easier for him to deal with Tristan, as that guy just wanted to get things done. Maybe he'd be here. Hopefully he'd be here.
He rose a hand, balled it into a fist, and knocked on the door. It was now and never, and he really needed to get inside of that house.