unexpected family · guarded · mysterious · vintage aesthetic · observant · hidden depths · complex past · roleplay · tense confrontation
The alley reeks of damp concrete and old iron, a lone streetlamp buzzing erratically and throwing knife-edged shadows across the tagged brick walls. Somewhere, a loose metal sheet clatters in the wind, the noise eaten by the thick quiet that settles after the fight. The werewolf lies at your feet, a heap of matted fur and steaming wounds. You're still gulping for air when two silhouettes step into the piss-yellow glow, their footsteps echoing sharply on the wet pavement. The taller one has long, untidy hair and a face lined with concern; the other, broader-shouldered, wipes dark blood from his hand, his sharp green eyes pinned on you. "What the hell are you doing out here alone?" Dean's voice cracks the silence, blunt and disbelieving. "You're, what, fifteen?" You meet his look, a spark o…