Nikolai Kortova
Oh, little Mik. The tall brunette standing in the principal's office thought to himself as he glanced over at the younger of the two. I do wish you would calm down. His brother was on edge; which was honestly no surprise. He didn't like change very much. Nikolai didn't much care for it either, of course, but he was on a mission. There was no reason for the two of them to be without their pack. Other than, of course, it was Nik's fault they got lost in the first place.
A large hand moved to travel through his hair as the principal handed them each a list. School supplies, their schedules, where the lunchroom was, which in Nik's opinion, was the most important part of this whole fiasco. He raised his nose only slightly and took a whiff; vampires and-
Nik began popping his knuckles as the girl walked in. Her clothes were much too bright, and she seemed quite irritated with what she was tasked with. Blue eyes glanced to the only slightly shorter boy standing beside him and he did everything he could to stiffle that laugh that threatened to emerge from his lips. Aisling Edwards. Sure, she had the prim and bitchy thing down, and maybe she was that way because of her family and her name, but did that really mean Nik had to automatically hate her right off the bat? He didn't think so. In fact, the young were found himself glancing down as he followed behind her. Damn, she had some long legs!
As the girl spun to silently taunt the boys, Nik couldn't help the raised brow that crept onto his face. Puppies? How did she know their nicknames? He cleared his throat, a deep laugh emerging from within the man, shaking his head as he placed a hand on his brother's shoulder.
"Forgive him. He's not much into meeting new people, especially not a caster. No offence." A crooked smile made his way to his lips as he looked down at the brunette. "But we're here looking for something. Afraid I can't say anything more than that, dollface."
While his brother was excellent at hiding their accent- a skill Nikolai never understood why it was needed- he let the entirety of the thing hang out. He actually quite liked how some people didn't understand him. And it seemed like the girls loved it. "Also, we don't need a babysitter. If we get lost, we can always use our noses." Nikolai winked at her as he tapped himself on the nose, comfortable as he could be. New places were never his forte, but exuding confidence was. And with one more smile to the girl, he pulled on his brother only just, waltzing around Aisling as he whistled. They had maps and their noses. What more would the two need?
Sansa Romanova
She always loved the sight and smells of the forest. The sounds of dew dripping off leaves in the distance. The sea splashing up against the rocks some distance off. It made the girl feel at home, and if she closed her eyes for a brief moment, she could almost hear her mother's voice telling a story of the old gods around the campfire.
"Oh my fucking God -- pass me another one, please."
The voice brought the young woman back to reality, mismatched eyes looking to the male sitting next to her. Sansa didn't say much of anything as she passed another bag over to him, watching him tear into it, nose twitching as the crimson liquid dripped down his face. She supposed that was one thing she liked about Lanic, his ruggedness. While she bit into the plastic bag with only a single fang careful not to spill any of the contents onto her jeans or black lace top, he pulled it open like it was a fresh kill. But it wasn't, and her gums were constantly aching, almost desperate for the feeling of her fangs sinking into flesh. These blood bags simply didn't cut it for the blonde.
Sansa moved a hand to wipe the stream of blood that traveled down his pale features, smirking as she placed her finger in her mouth.
"You're so messy." She exhaled, chuckling softly. The girl had skipped history for this. They were talking about her people, the Vikings, and the lies the world made up about them. She suspected her father would come up in conversation at some point during that period that day, the Mad King Bastille Romanova. Killed his wife, son, and daughter. Of course, it was unwritten history that herself and her brother survived. Sansa leaned her head back against the tree, thinking of her brother for a long moment, wondering where he went. Perhaps her Luka was dead at that point; he always had a tendency for trouble. Perhaps he was impaled somewhere, like she had been at one point.
Mismatched orbs cast downward, pale fingers running along the scar that lay positioned on her chest. If it wasn't for Marcelle- that silly and reckless little fae- she would probably still be strung up in Ireland.
San looked to Lanic as he spoke, nodding once. "I can only imagine what sort of trouble Aisling is going to get herself into. She should know better than to fuck with wolves. Of course, she still likes to pretend she's the queen bitch." It was common knowledge Sansa herself came from one of the original vampire families. Her father was older than the caster line, and if she had kept her title, perhaps San would be running the show. Casters. What a joke they were. Waving their little fingers around, thinking they were high ranking creatures. Sansa scoffed as she bit into a new bag, thinking of the wolves appearing in their little town. Gulping down the liquid in silence, the girl finally pulled away from it and looked to the man sitting beside her. "Why do you think they're here? There isn't anything in Camden." If there was one thing the girl disliked, it was werewolves. And now, there were two of them. Fan-fucking-tastic.
Marcelle Agnew
It was quite common for the little fae to slip away from her classes. She didn't care much about what humans learned about. The history of her own people was much more interesting in her own eyes, even the darkest part of her own life, the Great Faery Wars. She could still smell the blood that stained her village, the sight of the vampire ripping through her town, draining any fae they saw dry. She, of course, was off playing in the forest when the commotion started. That was the only thing that saved her life in the end; her free spirit.
At the moment, the girl sit in a clearing, singing softly to the fox that lay curled up in her lap. An array of animals lay sprawled about around her, whispering silent words that only Marcelle could hear. Her wings were unfurled behind her, nearly as large as she was, mimicking those of a green banded swallowtail. The emerald sheen of them were nearly the same shade as her eyes, the only difference being her wings shimmered in the sunlight.
There was no sunlight that say, though. Camden always seemed to be cloudy, always overcast. She missed the sun, missed feeling the warmth on her skin. She was like a flower in that sense, needed the rays of the sun to keep her healthy.
"I have to go, everyone. But I'll see you soon." The girl stood, kissing the fox on the head as she pulled the blue jacket back on, wings seeming to melt into her skin. It looked like gold was etched into her skin, outlining every vein that was her wings. It was how she hid them, of course. No human would be safe knowing people like her were out there.
The skirt she wore that day was light, yards and yards of golden chiffon fabric billowing behind her. A white blouse was tucked into it, and her white sandals were in her hands as she ran back to the school, bare feet taking in the energy of the Earth.
Celle slowed as she approached the school, glancing this way and that way to make sure no one saw her playing hookey. The vision of Sansa and Lanic lay out a good ways away from her, and the fae simply raised a hand to wave 'hello,' which Sansa of course returned. Slipping her sandals back onto her feet, Marcelle finally made it back into the confines of the high school and she exhaled her last deep breath softly. With a smile, she turned the corner, heading towards her art class. A sight, however, made the girl stop; two new faces, slowly making their way down the halls in her direction. The taller one was cute, sure, but the other one had her suddenly smitten. It was strange for Marcelle; she was never one to care much about... well, anything of that nature. Plump lips parted to say something as they came nearer, but she simply couldn't find her voice to say anything aside from "Welcome to Camden" before they passed.
