I Saw Somebody. Maybe It Was Your Fairy Godfather.

What does your OC wear on a normal day? Why do they default to those clothes? Do they wear similar things, or do they change it up?

He is often wearing more elegant and/or practical outfits. This is frequently his daily attire, predominantly suits, but anything along those lines tends to be what he's often seen to be wearing, no matter what. Typically appearing in respectable outfits, more than in filthy or excessively expensive, or fancy outfits. Azazel defaults to outfits of this style because he likes to look presentable, and perhaps even at times blend into his surroundings. He will certainly change what he wears, but keep within the same style of what he's into wearing. Due to the weather becoming hotter, he's wearing more loose and showy outfits. Generally, in cool, wintery, or lighter colors, regardless of temperature conditions. He has been known to also dress in grunge, gothic, and biker aesthetic styles, especially when he was younger. But these days he sticks mostly to suits when working, or simpler outfits on his days off. Examples.

Days like these, he supposed that life would be so much easier if he'd just disappeared, or, well, if strangers around him did. What was he even looking out for? Was anyone around him at the moment, or that would be for the rest of the day, even be worth this much hypervigilance on his behalf? Almost everyone seemed to be going about their day-to-day life, and he was just standing in place, smoking, and letting his imagination get the best of his mind at the moment.

It was completely silly. He was better than this. Was. He was better. But since the early morning hours he woke up out in basically no man's land, feeling as awful as he did then, and just as awful now, and more, when he had to keep up appearance and deal with the onslaught of questions, or trying to keep the facade going so that rumors could not dominate the narrative. What was the narrative, though? That everything was normal, still? What was supposed to be normal now? Azazel sneers a bit, flicking the ash off the end of his cigarette, frustration coming then.

Closing his eyes, he adjusted his head, trying to steer the sudden assault of intrusive thoughts from getting the better of him. He was safe, he was home, nothing had changed. He was still him. Yet nothing seemed at all right. Everything still seemed so wrong. His nose started to feel ticklish after a second, a sneeze suddenly escaping him, breaking his composure with it. Bringing his free hand up, he covered his mouth and nose, sniffling slightly. It wasn't a cold, it wasn't allergies, he had none. But now he had to think, was this sneeze going to be another sign that something was wrong?!

Catching himself, he laughed under his breath. He was being irrational it was just a normal sneeze, nothing wrong with that. He brought his hand away. There was nothing wrong with walking, no one should be or would be out to get him, at least, not that he could remember at the moment. He started walking again, he still had things to attend to, despite his thoughts and feelings toward things around him.

It wasn't too hot out today, and he was thankful for that. Thankfully, even more so, he chose to wear an outfit that wasn't going to let him be bogged down with whatever little heat there still was. After a bit of walking, he adjusted his glasses again, continuing on his bath to who could tell outside of the moment, aside from him. Azazel still, however, had a thin layer of sweat forming over his body, which thankfully his clothes did not show due to their showy looseness and presentable, colorful appearance.

Coming up to a hobby store along the strip, he took another moment to glance around. A guy stood on the sidewalk, trying to get someone's attention. A woman was walking her dog. A child was being led along by their mother into another shop along the road. A woman with a Walkman strolled by, followed by a man making his way to his truck in the opposite direction. Azazel looked back, wondering why he just couldn't shake the feeling he was being watched.

Pulling the door open, he made his way inside, sighing as a blast of cold air hit him. He smiled weakly at the person standing at the register, who gave him a small greeting and asked what he was looking for, “The usual.” Azazel replied, moving to jot down his order on a forum at the register, “Wood. Sheets of metal.” Tucking a hand into his pocket, he pulled out a sheet from his work to order less easily accessible items, “This stuff here.” A moment or so later, he was finished with his requests and turned to look around for more items that would be on hand that he didn't need to order to go straight to his house.

Once he collected those items, taking nearly forty or so minutes in total to complete his shopping, he walked back out of the hobby store, putting his sunglasses back on as the sun continued to bring pain to his eyes just by being in the sunlight. It was, he had guessed, certainly due to his now never-ending state of exhaustion. Letting the bag hang at his side in his left hand, Azazel again continued on his journey.

The will-o-the-wisp, silent venturer a few feet dutifully behind, and sorely lacking the expertise of someone whose profession relied on stealth and grace, the eloquence of ballet's training shaped her up to be deadly enough. Making tracks with enough pace to keep up, her gangly legs forced to slow down as to not draw attention to herself, her eyes were trained on the broad figure traipsing along, a fine hairline of tension palpable in the body language, how the other toyed with their sunglasses and seemed to rouse at the barest hints of tension sparking in the air.

Her dark eyes snapped away as she drew closer and he swung around, trained ahead as if she were walking through the downtown of Las Vegas like anyone else would be on a sunny afternoon, the dry heat beating down with its harsh rays and onto her skin, soaking up the vitamins and the acrid disdain for the warmth. Sleepy Hollow was cold and rainy. Nothing like here, where there was little reprieve where the rain alone was reprieve from its inclemency, and few and far between.

The idle wonderment of where he would go next was there, itching the back of her brain — the mild fixation with the oddities that presented in the other's physical condition, as if the life force tethering him was being siphoned out by an enigma, could have seen her time better spent, and there were limits. Salem didn't want to know where he lived, or menial details — she wanted to know what was attached to him, whether it was a spirit's whim to manifest in the physical realm or a demonic vice — like a computer gathering information. What made him tick.

Slowing down, the medium pushed her hair against the wind's plight to billow it into her face, warmth staunch to her fingertips, astounded that sweat didn't come away and slick her fingers when she wiped her visage. Letting out a breath, she gathered her bearings and dug her hands into her pockets, removing a Walkman and a pair of earbuds, figuring it would add to the image that she was on a leisurely stroll and didn't want to be bothered.

Biting his lips for a moment, he nodded, “I think so. You know you're supposed to replace those every couple of years. How many years has that been in your house?- I had a pillow as a kid that once had the indent in the shape of my head, and that was all I needed.” He could say that his parents didn't exactly go out of their way to replace such things every couple of years. Though he loved that pillow, a sigh left him. Because he still felt sad that he had so far not been able to find another pillow as comfortable, even if most of the stuffing was pushed to the sides. It fit his head perfectly in the indent and was the only pillow he had needed.

“Does it?” Raising an eyebrow, he glanced to one side, thinking about it. He wasn't much of a morning person, most days. Especially here lately. Though most moments of the day were met with utter exhaustion, he could say he wasn't a person currently meant for any part of the day. At the Care Bear comment, he makes himself laugh. Not because he didn't find any amusement in the comment, he could agree with it, even. But the emotion just wasn't there in earnest, “Really?! Bedtime Bear? Hm. I'll take it.” Nodding his head, he continued to walk with Andrea toward the coffee stand. Glancing here and there at people they passed by, “So, then what kind of Care Bear could you be?”

As Andrea spoke about the store, he nodded along, listening, then narrowed his eyes a bit, looking ahead, “Sure.” He offered a grin, more in comfort toward his friend. Rather than the hopes that the store was going to be bustling. But he was just being negative. Bringing his left hand up to his head, a sudden wave of nausea hit him, and he stumbled a bit. But just as quickly as it had come, he forced it back down, running his hand over his head, playing it off as if it were nothing at all. Swallowing, his throat felt thick, scanning, he had to get out away for a moment. The thin layer of sweat had suddenly come to be more persistent, droplets forming and running down his neck, “Ah-huh- I hope- so too. Yeah.” If he could look any more pale, he would be. Standing at the coffee station, he felt even worse than he did just a few seconds earlier. The dizziness and sick feeling became almost too unbearable at this point to continue to ignore, and be forced down.

“-be right back-” Azazel hurriedly said as he turned and rushed off. Stumbling slightly and bumping into a few people in the crowd, the motion not at all helping his sudden needs. Finally making his way to a building with a proper bathroom in it, he slammed the door shut as the nausea he was feeling piqued.

"Oh I do, I think that it's more comfortable about my own bed, maybe that's a sign for me to get a new bed or something." She couldn't help but chuckle as the two of them began to make their way to grab some coffee. While she normally drank tea, she drank coffee to give her a boost of energy which she kind of needed. "Sounds like it's more important than breakfast to you." She smirked. "If you were a Care Bear you would be Bedtime Bear." She added with a playful grin.

"Yeah I mean I think any store will take it's time getting up off the ground, but I know that it will be up and running in no time. I'll probably be more in the back at times, but I'll try and get out and help the customers when I can." She always had a positive outlook on everything, plus, it was better than her old job, she had more freedom and was doing something that she loved. "Well let's hope that the slump goes away, nothing worse than a slump. Been in quite a few myself" She spoke as they got to the coffee stand.

What did your muse want to be when they were a child? Would their child self be happy with what they are now?

Azazel has always wished to be in a career that allows him to learn and keep learning. He had always enjoyed finding out and picking up new things. New hobbies, new skills, new information. He was often a consummate reader. But also would go out and experiment on some of those things he would learn. So he technically had no name for what he wanted to be as a child, other than 'scientist', and that dream continued throughout his life into adulthood, where he has a professional career in the sciences, primarily in biotech. Moonlighted in his advisory position for the Vitelli's. His child self would probably be very amused by how everything turned out. Thinking that being in a 'mafia' and working as a scientist would be 'the best' way his life could have turned out. Seeing as most of his childself thinks of gangster related things in the more fictionalized settings, and not the serious, life-threatening, deadly nightmare it actually can be. Also, he would be so happy about any lean into the supernatural rumors surrounding his older self. So, child Azazel would be completely ecstatic to present Azazel's life, with a rose-tinted glasses idea of it.

My eyes burned, tears clawing their way to the red brims. I didn't have time to pity myself. If I did, if I gave in to the pain and betrayal and fucking sadness, I didn't think I could pull myself back out. What is an angel without wings? What is a monster without teeth?

Blood So Brutal - Emily Blackwood

A gray blur dashed past where Ava was lounging. A few minutes later, Azazel jogged to a stop, gasping as he dropped at his waist, his breathing heavy before he startled at Ava's comment, accusing him of standing in her sunlight. He stood straight again, laughing tensely, his eyes narrowing on the other, “Alright, Diogenes, calm down. I'm not here to Alexander the Great on your sunlight.” He remarked lowly before looking out across the way again, trying to find his dog, who was being a real menace to him right now. Letting out one last heavy breath, he shifted, still looking, and spotted Shadow digging off somewhere far off. His attention moved back to Ava again, however, “Join you?” He looked like he was considering it, though he really wasn't. He couldn't think of anything more boring. Not only that, but he figured he might just fall asleep and suffer more for it, “I'm just here to get my dog. Who. Is being an asshole!” He shouted the last sentence out to where the dog was. Hearing him, she lifted her head up and looked over at him, staring, “Yeah. You!” He pointed, seeing her bark before dashing off again, “Ugh!” Closing his eyes, Azazel tilted his head back, thinking about just letting her exhaust herself and take Ava up on her offer, “Want a irish wolfhound?” He jokingly asked with an unenthusiastic attitude as he moved his head back and lifted his right hand, checking on the time. It wasn't that long since he woke up from his nap, but he was definitely ready to have another.

( cactus ridge trailer park, april 10, mid-day ) @boneyardstarters

Heaving a long, happy sigh and tilting her head back against the headrest of the plastic outdoor lounge chair, Ava closed her eyes as she soaked up the Nevada sunbeams. She was beyond grateful to have the morning off from her usual chaos down at the salon. She couldn't have asked for a better day all to herself, with the sun shining down on the patch of land just outside of the home she shared with her girlfriend, bathing the hairdresser in golden rays that were sure to have her positively glowing by the time summer rolled around. That is, until the warmth suddenly vanished off her skin. Opening her eyes, the Adler girl let out a dramatic groan. "What? Can't blame a girl for wanting to soak up the sun on such a beautiful day, can you? Or at least, I would be, if someone weren't standing directly in my light," she announced sweetly by way of a proper greeting to the person walking in her direction. A playful grin tugging at her lips, the blonde sat up, removing the red heart-shaped sunglasses adorning her face to better see her companion. "Care to join me? Or were you just gonna stand there and protect me from melanoma all day?"

Glancing over at the male sitting near him, he curled his nose a bit. Adjusting his head back against his backpack as he was trying to silence the crowd around him again. But those few seconds of sleep had seemed to be all he would be getting, all his mind was going to allow him for the moment. Listening to the other reply to him, he continued to keep his eyes closed for a bit, before turning his face into his hand and just staying like that for a bit before moving to sit up, “If you wanted to.” He wondered if that meant he was not making himself much of a target. Which was clearly good, given he was so easy to fall asleep in such an open and public space, amongst a crowd, “Maybe- but I doubt you would have found anything of worth besides a couple of hundred in cash.”

Which he wasn't willing to kill a man over, so he'd just let it be taken and enjoyed his nap. Staring at the other's neck, he wondered just how easy it could have been done while they were preoccupied with their petty thieving. Then, he blinked and looked away, bringing his left hand up to massage his temple as he pushed those errant thoughts out of his mind. Those weren't really his. Or, he thought, was so unlike him. Or was it? Azazel moved to sit up, “You could say I'm living my life on the razor's edge, I guess?”

Levi found himself taking a smoke break pretty often, not even due to the stress at this point. It was just habit. He figured he'd be a little polite and take a break near a bench. Though it felt like everyone smoked nowadays. He watched a couple head towards a booth, shaking his head. "Fuckin' suckers." He muttered under his breath, forgetting that he was in public. Honestly, Levi was just talking to himself, which he did a lot. it probably made him seem a little bit crazy to others. "That's what everyone says. But y'know, ain't nothing wrong with sleeping. Might not wanna do it 'round here. If I wanted to, I could've taken whatever was in your pockets."

Reminder: you can't kill them in any way that matters.

Narrowing his eyes on the other as she excused her waking him up, Azazel clicked his tongue off the roof of his mouth and then closed his eyes again, adjusting his head on his backpack as he did. Not going back to sleep, that was done with now. Though the sight of seeing someone adorned with cat ears, drawn on whiskers, and a bit of red on her lip was, in thought, amusing, he would tell himself. But as she went on, questioning about vampires, his eyes shot back open.

Sitting up then, he looked at her, then, “You've got red on you.” It was what he said at first before turning his head away, squinting out into the crowd. Lifting his left hand up, he unhooked the sunglasses hanging off his shirt and deftly moved to put them on as he put some time between his comment before answering the vampire question. Azazel pressed the middle finger of his right hand against the nose piece of the glasses, then leaned back in his seat, “I guess, maybe, for you. That it might be. I'm not so sure, for me. Maybe I'm being self-destructive.”

He grinned, then, turning his head back toward her, now ready to reply to what she said about blood suckers, generally vampires. Despite the fact that his skin crawled, he knew they weren't real. But there was something, something swarming inside him, denying this belief in him. Azazel then looked up and, as casually as he was sitting, he spoke, “Vampires aren't real. So unless a big fucking mosquito is making it's rounds in this crowd, or probably a vampire bat-” Pausing, he knocked is head to one side. Though vampire bats weren't technically known to actually suck blood, if he were remembering his studies correctly, “Most I gotta fear there is a bad case of rabies, though, not blood loss.”

WHILE THE ONGOING EVENT HAD CERTAINLY CAUGHT HER INTEREST as she couldn't recall the French countryside she grew up on ever holding one that seemed comparable to a mid-spring horror fest, Simone was partially annoyed that she was forced to wander through crowds that her uppity social standing usually had her avoiding as the places she frequented happened to be expensive just to stand in most of the time. Her clients were not the type to plan an entire trip to Vegas for an event that felt partially reminiscent of Halloween, thus, she had no real reason to peruse around except for her own curiosity as the foreign born had clearly never once celebrated the spooky holiday herself as a child. The simple cat ears on her head and whiskers drawn on to her face atop rosy blush was not melting under the Vegas sun thanks to expensive makeup it was etched on with, but the same sadly couldn't be said for the cookie of a fanged mouth, as the red icing that represented blood was threatening to melt off and onto her hands, much to the travel agent's dismay as she rushed to take a seat on a bench and pull some tissues out of her bag. "Ah, then I do not need to apologize for waking you if you were only resting. I would think it impossible to fall asleep with everything appearing so fantasmagorique. You are not fearful of those that suck blood?" A smile crossed her face, as if amused with her own question.

“Some people aren’t loyal to you, they are loyal to their need of you. Once their needs change, so does their loyalty.”

— Unknown