RED HILLS — p

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    [align=center][fancypost bgcolor=transparent; borderwidth=0px; bordercolor=transparent; width: 325px;][justify][size=9pt]Dean gave a soft sigh, casting his dark gaze out from where he was perched upon the skull of the ancient dragon skeleton that just so happened to sit upon WindClan's southernmost border. He brought the bottle of beer that he had clutched in his paws to his lips, rebelling in the cool feeling of the alchohol dripping down his throat. It was a good hour or so past dawn, but he hadn't left just yet. In fact, he hated to admit it, but he was actually starting to like the place if just a little bit. He could imagine his brother's intrigue with clans like this - starting a family, climbing the ranks, getting and keeping friends.. maybe if he wasn't.. him he would've been fine with that life. But he had lost that opportunity long ago. Sam just had to realize that, too, before he got himself hurt.


    Dean chewed on the inside of his cheek, glancing up. Planning on taking his leaving soon, the tom was already planning his route to RiverClan.
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    [fancypost borderwidth=0px; width: 415px; text-align: justify; font-size: 10px;]"Ya look like yer' 'n deep thought, 'nd this is the best place fer' it. But drinking's not gonna 'elp you out."


    Alcohol was a leisurely and common drink that Eileen could never swallow: the aftertaste was horrible, she couldn't understand how others found it so good. She knew of hunters who'd decided that a sip of it would be fine, lucky even, before fighting the deranged beasts in Yharnam; she saw their battered and mauled corpses lying within the alleys and no signs of a struggle. Eileen had no pity for the unfortunate bastards. If she was to keep at her game of hunting, then she was to be free of such poison.


    The ebony canine strolled up beside Dean and nodded his way. "I never gave you m' name. Eileen, a pleasure to meet ya."


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    [align=center][fancypost bgcolor=transparent; borderwidth=0px; bordercolor=transparent; width: 325px;][justify][size=9pt]It was funny how Eileen thought of hunting when she thought of Dean - because that was just what he was. A hunter. Not in the typical sense, no, he didn't only track down bunnies and mice. No, he hunted demons. And he was pretty damn good at it, too. But no one here needed to know that; the information alone could be dangerous. That was why he was taking off so fast. Well, that and he wanted to find Sam and get him back into the loop.


    Dean's dark gaze flickered over to Eileen as she spoke, and a tight smile formed across his features. He sat up a bit straighter, curling his paws around the half empty glass bottle. "I dunno, I'd say it helps at least a little," He rumbled with an innocent tilt of his head.


    The young tom dropped deftly from the skeleton, landing to gaze up almost curiously at Eileen. The mask was off-putting, he had to say, but he'd seen stranger. "Right. Dean, in case you missed it earlier. Dean Winchester. Pleasure."
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    tags

    [fancypost borderwidth=0px; width: 415px; text-align: justify; font-size: 10px;]/ gosh so sorry for not replying! getting ready to post one + bumping for myself


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    [fancypost borderwidth=0px; width: 415px; text-align: justify; font-size: 10px;]How odd was it that the both of them hunted creatures, and yet neither of them knew this about the other.


    The Crow gave an amused snort. "Mm, I'm used t' it easin' someone's memories, but then again, I wouldn't know." That's how one of her old colleagues did it - drank all the pain and terrible thoughts away. Sometimes he would sloppily get rid of the corrupted Hunters and would hurry back to the bottle. She started to wonder if he was still alive while she was gone. Peering down at Dean, the canine then took a seat and said, "I half expected ya t' be gone by now. Unfinished business?"


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