Camden stolled aimlessly down one of the many back allies, taking in the putrid scents of days old garbage, the earthy smells of molding bricks and decaying wood, and the occasional reek of a stumbling drunk on his way home from the 'office.' These were the best streets for pixie tricks, dark and untrusted, places where not even your own eyes could be trusted. It had been a haven many times for her, but tonight she was here for a couple hours of fun.

Letting her hand rest loosely at her side, she concentrated as she walked. An empty two-liter began to twist and change shape, suddenly becoming a sleek black-furred cat that pranced along beside her. A nearby wad of cumpled newspaper also began to shift, the fine print becoming short, grey fur, and the back elogating into a thin, pink tail. With a yowl the cat eaped after the paper-ball mouse, chasing it for a few feet before returning triumphantly, licking it's lips. With a faint smile Camden gave a nearly imperceptible flick of her hand and the two item returned to normal, a wad of newspaper now stuck inside an empty two liter.

Drawing her jacket tighter around her she continued on her walk, glamouring the junk around her as she went. Here a discared glove turned into a wirling ballerina, there a half-eaten hamburger turned into a clock which promptly sprouted feathery wings and flew a few feet before dropping with a wet splat into a dumpster. Time flies when you're having fun.

Jason had learned much in the months since he'd killed someone - and he'd grown tougher besides. He'd built up some muscle, and he'd learned how to control his mutations. Now he could do it almost whenever he wanted, so long as it was at night and he had the energy to do it. He'd learned to fight from some kids like him that were a bit tougher than the average street-wise smart-alecks. Now he was on his own again, but he'd picked up a few tricks. It had been almost a year, and he'd learned much.

His new attire now consisted of faded, torn blue jeans with frayed hems; worn, black leather harness boots; a black t-shirt; and a black leather jacket. His dark hair had darkened to an oily black; seems he was finally having his growth spurt. He carried a very sharp knife in his back pocket - a serrated eight-inch-long, inch-wide stiletto switchblade - ready to be whipped out and cut somebody at the slightest provocation. Of course, he wasn't stupid. No, he definitely wasn't stupid. He now fought for money - and usually won - and he got smarter about stealing. Pharmacies were easy to break into without leaving prints or evidence, it seemed, and the drugs brought in a lot of cash. He'd just paid off the guy he was working for and got a fat wad of cash to keep for his own, in fact, when he heard someone coming down the alleyway. It was girl, and she had a gift that was even weirder than his own - if it could be called a gift. He certainly called his a gift, now, and why shouldn't hers be? He watched from the shadows interestedly as the cat and mouse returned to their inanimate forms.

"Pretty neat trick."

His voice had deepened in the last year, and his five o'clock shadow was prominent on his shadowy features. The moon passed into view, partially illuminating his face as he leaned against the brick wall that made up the right side of the alleywas, his hands in the pockets of his jacket and a lit Marlboro hanging from his mouth. A car went by and illuminated him further, if only for a moment, making him seem almost like a shadow himself as his back faced the passing car. It was gone almost as quickly as it had come. The smoke curled up from the cigarette. He settled his weight and took a drag on the cig, blowing out some smoke as he held the cig in his left hand, now dangling by his side.

Camden had become wrapped up in her magic-weaving as she walked the dark alleyway, her senses closing to everything except what she was working on at the moment. Her thoughts twined around the objects, shifting and morphing them into what she wanted, then breaking that hold like the snapping of a twig. It was a satisfying feeling, like the feeling of sticking an entire bag of pop rocks in her mouth, except buzzing in her brain. It wasn't until he spoke that she noticed she wasn't alone. Jumping violently, her first instinct was to close her hand, but that was foolish, he had already seen what she could do might as well play along.

"It is isn't it?" she replied, drawing her jacket around the black dress she hadn't bothered to change out of after leaving The Triskelle. Tucking a wayward bang behind her ear, she squinted to see him better and grinned. "Not very handy for chores, but excellent for entertaining house guests." Shifting her weight a little to re-adjust her bag, her eyes flicked quickly across his figure, analyzing him with an artist's eye.

He took another drag on the cigarette as he studied her. She was doing the same to him - studying him. He could see it.

"You're no werewolf."

He probably shouldn't have said that.

"Can others do what you can?"

That was a better thing to say. Or to ask, rather. Of course she wasn't a werewolf. He would have smelled it on her. You see, as he had learned to control his transformations, he'd found that he had a sharper sense of smell than even a wolf could have - both in werewolf and human forms. His eyes were sharper, too, and his hearing. He'd become a human animal that could become an animalistic human if he so desired. So if there were other werewolves - as there had to be, for how else could he be what he was? - then maybe there were others like the woman before him. If that was the case...what, really, was the deal? How much was there that people didn't see of the world? But he waited for her answer. He would figure this out on his own, one way or another.

A werewolf...Cam turned the word over in her mind, trying to match the usual image of shaggy-haired wildmen with this man who stood before her; it didn't match up. But stories had a way of twisting over time, and she had little doubt that the extravagant modern tales of werewolves had changed from truth just as much as stories of faeries had. His question had caught her off guard and she se down her bag to lean casually against a dumpster opposite him as she thought of the best way to answer.

"There...are others like me." Her eyes moved searchingly a she spoke, as if trying to find the right words in the wall in front of her or the litter on the ground. An empty coffee cup shifted and a new illusion parakeet fluttered up to rest on her outstretched finger, its feathers the malted color of coffee-grinds. "There are others who can do what I can, but not many who choose to live as I do. Suffice it to say I haven't met many with my...talents, but I know they're out there. I don't believe anyone is truly alone."

Her eyes were curious when she looked again at her new aquaintance. She often found herself wondering about the people she met from day to day, where they had come from, what events had led them to the time they passed her on the street and what trials they had had to overcome. Chalk it off to nosiness, but it was a curiosity she had never overcome but often had to ignore; most people kept their stories locked tighter than their most precious possessions.

Sheridan hadn't met up with Camden in a while and to see her in the Bad End of Town surprised her, only a little though. She followed her friend, keeping to the shadows. As Camden talked with the wolf Sheridan wondered if Camden would ever notice her. Sheridan grinned, thinking to herself, *Dang. I must be freaking invisable if Camden doesn't know I'm here after close to an hour.*

"So, what are you then? A witch? A magician of some kind?"

Did he mention that he'd grown stubborn and blunt over the last year as well? If not...well, he had. He'd always been pessimistic and cynical, but now it was even worse.

"Anyone else with different 'abilities'? I mean, if you and I can do things others can't..."

He let the question hang, let it sink in as he continued his smoke. He'd finished the cigarette before she answered, and he tossed it into the dumpster. The lid was slightly ajar, and the cigarette went in easily.

"And what are you, C.I.A?" She snapped, small hands forming fists on her hips. It was a shame she was so small, she might have actually been intimidating. She still wasn't sure about the man in front of her. He had claimed to be a werewolf, but after seeing what she could do he may very well be just another human, trying to get into the lives of the innish, and suddenly she wasn't sure if she could trust him. Her fear made her angry, making her green eys flash with emotion for a moment before she paused to think.

She took a deep breath before speaking again. "I'm sorry." She said flatly. "If you're a werewolf, I'm sure you understand. Yeah, there's others with different abilities. I know a girl who can control fire with her mind."

She had forgotten about his first question for the moment, but now it entered her mind again and she tapped her fingers on her crossed arms as she debated wih herself. He had given away what he was, she owed him a turn. "And I'm not a witch, I'm a faerie."

Jason's eyes flashed, too. Half with laughter, and half with - confusion, perhaps? He didn't know how he felt. It felt almost surreal. He couldn't believe what he'd said. And now...

"So I'm not alone, then..."

It was a low murmur more than anything else, not really meant for anyone in particular. If she could hear it, that was all good and well. If not, whatever. He had a solemn look on his face.

A sheepish grin came onto his face, something not really fitting on a face like his. It made him look almost creepy, moreso because of the shadows covering him.

"Well, aren't we just a lovely little group of outcasts?"

It was meant as a joke, of course. He was really the only outcast in the bunch, though he couldn't have known that at the time.

Camden laughed and slipped out of her coat, allowing her wings free space so she could flit up to sit on the dumpster. Her eyes wee full of mirth as she studied his face. The sheepish grin looked misplaced on his features, something she hadn't expected to see, though it played into the shadows with a wonderful oddness.

"Yes, such a lovely, random little trio we make." She replied, still smiling wryly. "Why so outcast?" She asked, cocking her head to the side. "You seem to blend in pretty well. I wonder why no one told you..."

It was odd really, with a gift like his, that he hadn't known sooner. Still, there were lives plenty more random than hers.

"You wouldn't happen to have another cigarette on you, would you?" Her head rested on the wall behind her and her eyes closed for a moment, enjoying the breeze. A car passed, illuminating the space for a moment and causing her to jump in alarm, automatically, turning her back towards the shadows to hide her wings.

Sheridan shook her head in mock despair, "What am I going to do with you Camden?" She turned toward the car which had stopped, a man got out of it, he looked into the alley suspiciously. Sheridan sighed then spoke, her voice echoing slightly, "Go along home human. There's nothing in this alley but the usual trash. No people here what-so-ever. It's too dangerous to going walking around this alley anyway." The man's eyes glazed over and he turned getting back in the car, muttering to himself, "Got to get home. Not safe here. Nothing over there anyway." He drove off. Sheridan laughed, "To easy. By the way, Camden, do you realize how long I've been standing right behind you so far tonight? If I had been sent to kill you I could have done such in many differing ways, so intent you were on everything but your surroundings." She eyed the werewolf, sizing him up to see if he would pose a threat to her or Camden, eventually deciding he wasn't there to do harm, "Nice to meet you I believe Jason. Sheridan Tierney, resident assassin at Camden's service."

Camden snorted. "Sure. And pigs fly. No one's tried to kill me yet. Thank you anyway. And you're not invisible." She tried to keep the acid out of her voice, but the pixie had never been one for taking favors, not that she disliked Sharidan.

He sneered.

"Well, werewolves aren't exactly the kind of things that roam around in broad daylight trying to make friends with people, now are they? Some of the shit I've done would scare Ozzy Osbourne witless."

He tossed her a cigarette.

"Take it. I can always steal more."

That was true enough. Living on the streets taught you how to survive. Suddenly, though, someone else showed up.

"How the hell did you know my name?"

((Sorry...no creativity right now. -_- ))

Sheridan laughed, "No one's tried to kill you? Tell that to the demon mugger I killed earlier before he could knife you." She shrugged, "I personaly don't care what people think about me so the two of you can treat me however you like, sneers, curses, don't matter to me." She studied the dagger in her hand, running a thumb on the edge, studying the nicks in it. *And the demons wonder why I hate chain mail. Who wears the stuff these days anyway.* She thought to herself. She slid the blade into it's sheath with a sigh. "Call it another gift. One I wish I could turn off considering some of the thoughts of the people in the building next to us but we don't always get what we want now do we?"

He smirked.

"Damn straight."

Hell, he didn't want to be living on the streets, wondering when his next meal could be easily stolen, wondering how much money the guy sitting next to him on the subway had in his wallet...that was no way to live. So she might not be a kindred spirit. At least she knew what it was like to wish you had something different. Hell, she was probably like him in that she wanted it bad enough she'd do almost anything to get it. But even if she wasn't - it didn't matter. What mattered was the here and now.

"So what kinds of 'others' are there in this fucked up world? Demons? Angels? Maybe next you're going to tell me we've got gods and goddesses walking out there, and vampires to boot."

He sneered. But then, he was a werewolf - and the girl before him was a fairy. Or something.

Cam had swung her legs coolly over the edge of the dumpster and was now absently blowing smoke rings. Had she wanted to she could have come up with something more creative than smoke rings, perhaps smoke dragons, or even simply smoke wreaths. But her thoughts were elsewhere, her eyes boring a hole in the opposite wall as her thoughts meandered. You don't always get everything you want...it was a simple truth she refused to believe and had come to hate. It wasn't a fuzzy, optimistic, I-can-take-on-the-world feeling, but more a desperate, bloody fight to screw the world's opinions and accomplish what others said she couldn't, just to be able to throw it in their faces later.

Jason's mention of vampires brought her attention back to the present and a smile crossed her lips at the remembrance of a recent encounter. "Don't be too quick to sneer. That man over there for instance," she pointed with her cigarette at a man who was walking by on the opposite side of the street. "is, in fact, a vampire. God's and goddesses aren't quite as popular, but you do run into them occasionally. Mostly there are humans, like Sheridan here. Your typical pyros, psychics, elementals..."

She trailed off, taking another drag on the cigarette and blowing out a perfectly normal trail of smoke. All of this had become so normal to her, that she found herself speaking as if giving a biology lesson instead of revealing an entire hidden community.

"Oh well that's insulting Camden." Sheridan laughed. "I'm not human. I'm an elf. God forbid it that I even be associated with most humans. Yeah Jason. You can find anything and everything on these streets. Incubus, succubus, demons, angels, humans, elves, pixies, faries, were-wolves, vampires, et cetera." Sheridan wrung her damp hair out. It had been raining earlier, "Man. I really feel like hunting something. My weapons are beginning to rust and I have nothing to fix them with considering all of my belongings went with my house. I still haven't been able to find the jerk who paid those humans to burn my place to the ground." she growled to herself, muttering a few nasty names for the man responsible in her own language.

He stared at them like they were both nuts. These weren't just whinos and hippies in some underground party joint they were talking about. these were things from books, movies, video games, comics, and so much more.

"Prove it."

The words, and the challenge were quite simple. These two spoke as if they knew about an entire world that didn't exist, as if in fact they lived in a world that (supposedly) didn't exist. Werewolves were one thing. Even vampires weren't that hard to believe. But angels and demons? They didn't just walk around unnoticed by the rest of the world - did they? And dieties? Come on. So, the challenge hung in the air as he stared at the apparently half-mad (or perhaps completely mad) pair: prove it.

Sheridan gave a slightly evil grin, "Ok. You're on Jason. We'll prove it to you. Where should we take him first Cam." As Sheridan leaned back the entirety of her eyes changed to a deep black color that, even though the light hit them, gave no reflection. Almost like deep dark holes with no end. Then they returned to normal.

Camden eyes glinted with pleasure at the sound of a challenge. She debated taking the glamour that kept her looking human off then and there to prove she wasn't mad, but this man was strange to her,there was no telling how he would react. So, she merely slipped her jacket back on and slid off the top of the dumpster, turning to face Jason with a considering look.

"All depends. The clubs are probably best to find a bunch of innish in one place. I'm not exactly dressed for The Warehouse, but we could always try somewhere else. What do you want to see Jason?"

(((Sorry for the lack of skill. *sigh*)))

He considered for a moment. Where did he want to go? What did he know about others like him? Others like him...of course. That was it.

"Are there others like me? Other werewolves?"

Actually, his case was a bit unique. He'd been bitten by a lycan, not a werewolf, so he'd developed his powers as a lycan. He could control his transformations. True werewolves could not, nor could they wield their superhuman senses as humans - they could only do so as werewolves. That was the major difference between lycans and werewolves. But of course, Jason could not possibly know any of this.

Sheridan paused, "Know where any lycan hang out Cam? I'm not familiar with any lycan as of yet. I'm sure one of them will come to me with a job sooner or later though."

Camden chewed on one nail as she muled it over in her head.

"No, but maybe if we..." She was about to say that they should simply visit a couple innish haunts and pray they ran into one, but something stopped her. This was exactly what she ad warned others about, bringing the unnish into the innish world. All of her fears rested on this these occurances and here she was helping them along. Granted, he wasn't exactly human, but still...

Her uncertainty made her shift her weight from foot to foot in restlessness. "There are others like you, I don't see how there couldn't be if you exist, but I wouldn't know where to begin looking for them. There are a couple places Sheridan could show you where you might meet someone but, I, I have to go. "I've got some things to do in the mornng and it's getting late..." She had meant to leave then, but she was still torn. Ah, what the hell. He seemed like somone who could figure this out on his own.

(((sorry it took me so long)))

((Don't worry about it. I completely forgot about this topic. <_< ))

"You wanna go, go."

It was all too clear that the fairy or whatever she was wanted to leave.

"But fine. You got some places to show me? Lead the way. I hate just standing around doin' nothin'. So either let's go or I'm gonna go find a hamburger to steal instead of waitin' aroun' for somethin' ta happen."

He was starting to get irritated, mostly because he didn't like waiting.

It was times like this Sheridan was glad she could sense emotions, "Go ahead Cam. I'll keep him outta trouble. Maybe I'll take him hunting with me. Who knows. He'd get to meet the vampire who's currently trying to kill me. He's upset cause I killed his father. Big cry baby." she grinned evilly. "What he doesn't know is how much begging and crying his father was doing right before I killed him."