[center]
[fancypost=border-width:0px; width: 500px; text-align: justify; font-size: 7pt; line-height: 125%]
Faceclaim is Berk Cankat
My character's name is Faolan. He's half-Irish, along with a jumble of other familial ancestries. In his mid-twenties, he's around average height, roughly 6', with an athletic, healthy build. He has strong features, with an oval-shaped face and almond shaped brown eyes. His hair is kept very short, a deep brown, often paired with a trimmed beard, though sometimes he forgets to shave and it gets a little less tame. When that happens he also looks like he's aged another decade, but he really is pretty young for someone who's hopped towns at least seven times, all throughout his life. He wears a lot of long-sleeve shirt & jean combinations, or plaid with a t-shirt underneath. Occasionally opts for a hoodie on rainy days, or during particularly bleak moments in his life.
Bridgewater is a town near a thick willow forest. Think something like Savanna, Georgia. It's very hot and humid in the summer and chill during winter, with the very occasional snow making for a very pretty postcard. There's a large lake and several river networks, the widest river having the town's symbol, Bridgewater Crossing. Since the town is growing further and further, many markets, residences, downtown areas and events are opening up at an exponential rate.
Sits next to a college town called Reedwill, and a bit further away lies an ever sparser town called The Farmlands (not their actual name) by locals.
Another starless night.
The city streets were ablaze with activity no matter how late the hour. Cars honked horns at each other, club-goers strutted down the sidewalk, chatting with their friends in loud, excitable voices. Inside a bar, a crowd of people jumped out of their seats, roaring at whatever game was currently broadcasting on the TV. Sirens wailed, an ambulance cruising past an open alleyway.
It passed by a woman, splayed out on her back. Her screams had long died down. Now it was just a soft gurgle, a death rattle. Blood soaked through her jacket, pooled under her back. Her ruined, polka-dot patterned dress lay in tatters, three broad slashes all down her torso. Next to her was a purse, split open in three pieces. Money was scattered everywhere, untouched. A few bills were still crumpled in her hand.
The thing on top of her didn't care about money. Its jaws were still at her throat, shaking her neck like a toy. Red eyes never left hers. When the monster's mouth opened, it dropped her head back with a wet smack. Sightless eyes watched as it licked its fangs. Whatever it was, it was enjoying itself.
Sirens wailed, off in the distance. A voice shouted.
The monster turned its head, half of its face streaked in red. It leaned back on both knees, listening. A deep growl bubbled up from its throat. In seconds, it had scrambled up on two legs, then took off deeper down the alley, disappearing around a corner.
That morning, when two college students came across what was left, she'd be long dead. The cause of death was ruled as a rabid animal attack, but there were those who knee better than that...
---
"I ain't happy, I'm feeling glad-"
A faded blue sedan wheeled down the highway, the windows rolled down halfway, just enough for the Gorillaz album playing to be heard from a mile away. Large, sagging trees and ponds passed by in a blur of green and grey. Faolan's fingers tapped the steering wheel, a distant expression on his bearded face as he drove. Didn't have time to shave. His face was haggard from driving so long. Not to mention, he was still thinking of what he'd witnessed that night.
"I got sunshine, in a bag-"
That gruesome image remained in his mind. Tangled limbs, a stone pale face. What had killed her? The first claw mark or the deep gouge in her neck? The image had made its way on to the internet almost immediately. Gore sites were quick like that. Whatever had been the case, he'd awakened in his apartment in a cold sweat with one thing on his mind: Get out.
"I'm useless, but not for long-"
In less than a week he'd managed to set up a new place. Somewhere called Bridgewater, smaller than what he was used to but according to the website, a "growing town." A solid three days travel from Shelton. Nothing he'd never done before. They had an affordable townhouse already ready for leasing too. And with all of his funds he managed to outbid it extremely quick.
It only took two calls: First for the lease and second for a moving van. He didn't have a criminal history... Nothing stood out in his record. Not at the moment anyway.
"The future, is coming on..."
Faolan sighed, checking his mirrors. He saw the sign coming, and smiled, if reluctantly. He chalked it up to being too hopeful. Maybe this time things would be better. He hated all this running. All this hiding.
Passing by the green sign, it displayed in large, capital lettering...
WELCOME TO BRIDGEWATER, POPULATION: 6,250
