Sardines&&FurCoats{Giselle}

[roscoe]

Roscoe was a boat, a ship, a magnificent floating man'o'war-

...or rather a skinny, helpless twig with about as much influence on her surroundings as a small piece of tree could reasonably expect to have in New York City.

The diminutive werewolf let herself be carried by the great press of humanity. She was about to start chomping her way out in frustration when the river of personages turned left in unison and started to flow towards a giant, gaping gash of an entrance marring the smooth tarmac of the busy road. Roscoe could only stare in disbelief.
Oh bloody hell. The subway? I dun wanna go on the bloody subway! Help! Get me out of here, goddamnit!

There was only one bright spot on the horizon; with half of New York on its way home, there was no way the ticket collectors could keep up, and the happily ticketless Roscoe would not be fined some ghastly sum for not paying her dues.

As she was pressed into a small corner, Roscoe sighed. The train was as packed as a sardine can and smelled like one too. She took one large sniff that almost knocked her out and smelled something other then the usual rush hour perfume of coffee and stale sweat. The familiar scent did not help to improve her day one bit.

Vamp. Shit, could this get any worse? Could it?

It could.

Roscoe's alien eyes went wide as a morbidly obese product of the Dunkin' Donuts generation waddled in and practically squeezed everyone in the carriage to bursting point.

That was when she passed out.

[Giselle Audley]

Giselle flew down the narrow metal stairs leading underground into the subway. She had a train to catch and she was running late. She had to get across NYC by tonight or be trapped underground all morning. She had reservations for a hotel and it was a lot better than a smelly subway station.

She ran through the turnstiles just in time to watch her train fly by to her horror. Stuck underground then. The next train wouldn't come until the sun was up. Well this was perfect. She punched the metal side of the train as it passed her, leaving a nice dent. It crumpled like tin foil. She stood up against the metal wall and slid down it until she was on the filthy floor.

Giselle sighed heavily and looked around. There was the usual hustle and bustle of people trying to catch their own trains. Lucky fools, she thought. She'd have to find a good human to eat later. She was getting hungry and she hadn't fed all night.

But wait! Giselle looked past the massive group of people to a train. It couldn't be! She hadn't noticed this one on the schedule. She looked up to the board. It was departing in five minutes and it would take her where she needed to go.

She battled her way though a particularly heavy crowd of pudgy mortals. All she could smell was humans. There were two many of them to feed on here. Great. She'd starve herself! There was just one other scent that she caught that wasn't human at all. Werewolf. She looked across the tiny tube of a train and there she was, asleep?

Giselle pushed a mortal out of the way to sit beside the wolf. She grinned and then punched her in the cheek.

"Wakey wakey wolfie. This isn't a great place to nap!" she crooned.

[roscoe]

“Gyuuuuhhhh...” Roscoe's throat emitted a low, rumbling groan that vibrated in the small space. There was something disturbing the peaceful, stifled black of her oblivion, but she had no idea what it was; it was just a niggle worming its way through the back of her head, an edge to the oxygen that made her clench her sharp white teeth.

Oh, and a sudden crunching pain in her ridiculously angular jawbone.

The wolf's head lolled to the side, flopping like one of those nodding dogs often seen in the back of secretaries' cars. She slowly slid sideways, landing with an unconscious drool on a scarily-attired punk, who, being in a foul mood because the police had just nabbed all his buddies for trashing a bus station, had no qualms about pushing the girl right back at Giselle with a rough poke in the side for good measure.

It was the poke that did it.

“AH!” The werewolf shot up and treated the vampire she was now leaning on to the full intensity of her glare before punching her in the nose. “NOW WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING, YOU FILTHY BLOODSUCKER! GRAAAH!” And with that inspiring war cry accompanying her motions, she lunged for Giselle.

The entire carriage started muttering to themselves. First of all, there wasn't really space to lunge at anybody, let alone somebody right next to you, and second of all, Roscoe did have something of a maniacal, murderous, wolfish look about her, and it made people slightly nervous. As the train tinged merrily to announce their arrival at East Broadway, most of the carriage emptied out, like a sardine can being tipped onto a chewing-gum plated dish.

Until now, Roscoe had been acting almost by instinct while her brain recovered. As she regained her ability to think, she quickly ran through her previous motions, and although she still wasn't sure exactly what had happened, she had a fair idea that she might have inspired in somebody the desire to call the cops, or at least the subway personnel.
At least she hadn't turned. That could have been nasty.
“HEY BLOODSUCKER! I BET YOU DON'T HAVE THE /GUTS/ TO GET /ME/!” And with that scintillating gem of antagonisation still hanging in the air behind her, the battered werewolf leaped out of the carriage.

After all, it's full moon tomorrow. What werewolf wants to be trapped in a cell at full moon?

((I had no idea what subway stations there are in NY, so I just googled it and picked a random one. Apologies for the inaccuracy!

...

Oh well. Geography will just have to bend itself to my will. >:3))

[Giselle Audley]

Giselle didn't know how to react. The wolf was having an episode! Normally, she wouldn't care that there were humans around but not until recently she had begun to have some sort of... feeling toward them. They weren't good feelings, she just didn't think it would be very wise to have a subway train full of mortals running and screaming hysterically in such a small space.

Finally, her face returned into it's usual expression when she was having fun, a grin from ear to ear. This wolf was a strange one. She was actually pretty entertaining. Giselle couldn't help but laugh when the punkish guy shoved her off and onto Giselle's shoulder, and that expression she had was priceless. Giselle didn't like feeling the wolf's warm body on her cold skin. It didn't feel right. Before she was about to shove her back to the punk guy, she woke up and screamed at her.

Giselle didn't have time to respond, for the wolf challenged her and ran off the subway. Giselle's first thought was to not follow the wolf, to stay on the train and get where she had to go. The vampire inside her wouldn't let her do this, however. She leaped to her feet and bounded after the wolf.

"What's wrong, Fido? Cat got your tongue?" she screamed as she ran after her.

(OOC: No worries, Roscoe. And your post had me laughing. I loved it!)

[roscoe]

“I'M NOT A f*ckING DOG!” Roscoe's hollering protest, unfortunately, did not echo dramatically off the walls of the subway; there were just too many people. Their soft, vulnerable flesh absorbed sound as effectively as a ten-ton mattress.
“I SAID, I'M NOT A f*ckING DOG!” If the walls weren't going to mimic her words for extra effect, then she would just have to do it herself, now wouldn't she?

It was terrible.

You really couldn't rely on anything these days.

In a slightly perverse way, Roscoe was deeply enjoying the self-flagellatory, hysterical histrionics. For the past few weeks, she'd been festering in the city, slobbing around in that uniquely brain-dead manner that comes from too much beer and stupid company. The vampire's appearance was like a breath of fresh air (albeit one that smelled like death, so technically it wasn't exactly fresh, but, with that contradictory manner that accompanies all things vampires do, it blew away the feeling of being undead, despite emanating from one itself) shattering Roscoe's boredom and zombie-like daily routine.

It was definitely time for a good spat.

“You're trying to pinhole me into the role of submissive canine? Well, have I got news for you, vampy! I am... Ummm...” There was a short pause as Roscoe tried to think of something suitably un-lame to add on. “I'm not submissive, and I never will be! So nah!”

Obviously, despite the pause, she hadn't succeeded.


By that time, the merry chase had wound its way round a portly porter, a skinny singer, at least three caterwauling children and the rest of the cross-section of New York society hanging around the subway, which I won't list here because I've run out of suitable alliterative verbs to tack on to those nouns. x.x Forgive meh.

Finally, the exit!

With a sigh of relief, the wolf leapt the last few steps out of the dingy tunnels. A dim, crepuscular darkness had settled over the Big Pomacious-Fruit-Of-The-Malus-Domestica-Of-The-Rose-Family-Rosaceae, otherwise known as the Big Apple, and Roscoe instinctively grasped what this meant; it would be a fair fight. Unless she could find a powerful UV lamp within the next thirty seconds.

Which, let's face it, was just slightly improbable.

“Hey vampy! I have a map in my pocket listing the location of every tanning salon in New York! Be afraid! Be... are you ready for it... be DEATHLY afraid!” Cue more hysterical, wolfish laughter at the incredibly rubbish wordplay.

When at a disadvantage, bluff. En't that right, baby?

((I. AM. AWESOME. Not only is geography bending itself to my will, but so is time. Instant night-time, anybody? x]

Glad you liked it =) Makes me happy x]))

[Giselle Audley]

Giselle scowled. She could hear the wolf just fine with her vampire hearing. Heck, she could even here a whisper in this place. She was puzzled. Why did this wolf just run? Usually they exchanged some bitter words for a little while, and then they ran.

Peculiar.

Maybe she was mentally disturbed? She was creating an echo effect by herself at the moment. She'd heard of this before; how some humans just couldn't take the transformations. If this wolf was psychotic, then it was Giselle's civil duty to put a stop to this madness. It almost looked like the wolf was having fun! Like she was enjoying all of this.

Yep. That proved it. Nut-case.

Giselle cocked an eyebrow at the wolf's words, or lack of them. She was utterly lost. Was she supposed to know what she was talking about? Giselle saw the wild chase was coming to an end. Thank goodness, her pumps were not made for running. The wolf said something about tanning beds... Again, Giselle didn't follow.

"Er... excuse me, but is that supposed to scare me or something? Tanning beds? Ooooh, I'm petrified! What ever will I do when a killer tanning bed comes after me!? Let's slow down, wolf-girl and have a little chat."