have faith [open]

[TERESA ALIYAH LEITNER]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, background-image:url(http://i56.tinypic.com/2zgu9hc.jpg); width: 440px; padding-top:10px;] there's no sunrise --- Teresa had never understood the need for homelessness. Maybe it was because she herself had never been homeless, or maybe because she couldn't understand the concept of people letting go of them selves so thoroughly as to become homeless. She found it uneeded and silly and people should just try harder. But that didn't mean that she did not feel sorry for those people, because back when she was still human, there were a lot of people out on the streets. A lot of people who had to beg to find their way, no shelter, not warmth, so she had considered herself lucky to be poor but still have some sort of roof over her head. Teresa had been lucky enough to always have some sort of home, so when she saw someone homeless she always tried to help out as much as she could. Maybe giving them money, or buying a sandwich, either way she felt good when she helped out, because she knew that if the positions were reversed she would want help too. Running a hand through her wavy blond hair, she made her way to her favourite place in the world. Being a fallen angel, she could still appreciate fine coffee, just as she had when she was human. Tessa had always hated the sound of her high heels on the pavement, it sounded too sharp, too loud, too obvious. If she would have wanted to run away from something, her heels would surely give her away. And you can never be too careful when the war is raging, because even though she was a fallen angel, she was fighting for the light side, through and through. And it made sense, she wanted to protect the humans because eh was in love with one. And because her Guardian Angel instincts were always there, so she wanted the whole race to be safe from those sorry ass losers of supernaturals really. If she was honest, she could not imagine a world where humans were slaves, she sure as hell did not want Iain a part of it. Sure, she felt guilty for not telling him what she was, but it was for his own good. Always in the best interests of Iain. Always him. The first time she met him, he had been in trouble, and it was like a force that drew her to him. She did her best to save him, and save him she did. They ended up falling in love, though she refused to go any further with him and just kissing. Whenever he neared her shirt, she would stop things because she did not want him to find out. About her scars. To touch them and see what she was, because she knew that he would never love someone that was dead. It was impossible. She was lost in thought as she made her way slowly down the path that she could walk with her eyes closed. But as always, because she had her head in the clouds something went wrong. When she was feeling so unobservant, something always happened to bring her out of it, and not always good. Like right now for example. She was about to throw a couple of coins into a homeless man's cup, until she felt her purse being snatched off her arm. She cried out in shock, and was spun on her feet really fast. The stench of body odour clear in her nose as her blue eyes followed the guy that stole it. She wouldn't go after him. She knew she could, but she knows that if she did she would reveal herself to the humans. It was nothing she wanted less, so she settles for looking shocked and just shouting out that a guy had her purse. There was nothing important in there, but Teresa knew that she had to keep up the facade; and it was always like that. Keep up the facade. tag: open word count: enough lyric credit: colbie caillat notes: rawr!

credit to BABY DARLING ! @ caution 2.0

[ANSEL DEUCALION RHINE]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style,background-color: #272029; border: 3px solid #e1e1e1; padding: 10px; border-radius: 0px 0px 300px 300px;] Ansel Despite the Lies... The morning had been relatively uneventful for Ansel as he stretched and popped his back. The shelter he'd stayed in the night before was less than comfortable, but it had been shelter and he had needed it. Running from his father, refusing to impose upon Callan and his family, nearly getting arrested for sleeping on a bench -- the past week had been considerably harder than the very beatings he'd once been dealt. Sure, the blows were no longer dealt physically, but more like mentally. He was constantly belittling himself now, questioning every minor detail in his life. He found himself wishing he were back in his father's house, even in the freezer would be better, than being on the streets. With a sigh, the young shifter sulked down the street, hands stuffed in his pocket and beanie pulled down over his ears. It was starting to get colder, something he wasn't sure he liked too much. He'd always looked forward to the colder months, but now the thought of them sent a sickening chill down his spine. Cold weather meant illness. Sickness which would come crashing down on him late at night while he took what little cover he could beneath a tree in the park, or maybe even in the cemetery next time. Either way, the thought was neither compelling nor welcoming. A shrill scream cut through his thoughts, bringing his attention back to the world around him only to find himself crashing to the ground as a big brute of a man charged past him. The pavement was harsh and rubbed the skin of his palm the wrong way, little beads of red staining the slate material. For a brief moment, Ansel had the idea to curl into a ball and try to hide himself, but as the screaming persisted, he pushed himself up and charged after the man. He didn't know why he was doing it, he didn't know why no one else had tried to help already, he didn't know the lady so why would he try to help her? Her purse was probably worthless too, nothing of importance inside. Probably nothing more than make-up and a few tampons. Yet, he still found himself running, on the off chance that the contents held her identity as well. He could feel his limbs trying to stretch, his skin feeling as if it were burning from the inside out. As the chase continued, he found himself gaining ground until he was close enough that he was able to tackle the man. The two went flying, tumbling to the ground in a heap of flying limbs and pained grunts. As their rolling ceased, with the bag firmly clasped in his hand, Ansel staggered to his feet and skittered back a few inches. The assailant didn't even glance back before he was taking off once more, probably hoping to avoid the police if they were to come. The young shifter turned on his heels and jogged back to the Purses' owner. "Sorry it's kinda dirty," he coughed, "I hope nothing broke." ... You'll never be alone Words;; idek Muse;; 2/10 :/ Tags;; Open Notes;; notes

table by MudBug