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 Finding a Place to Start, tag: Tarwick
Rupert Giles
 Posted: Oct 21, 2017 | 10:02 am
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Hands tucked deep into his pockets, Giles perused the shelves of the “New Age” store. Much of the winter chill still clung to his bones from the walk here. He had not bothered to even properly open his coat when he came into the shop, still feeling the bite of the wind even inside the protective walls of the supply store. It had been a brief phone call with Willow that had brought him here, with a request to find a legitimate shop of mystical wares. The world had become one where telephone books and word-of-mouth rumors were no longer the way, but he was caught in the generation of those who simply could not navigate the world wide web, so he had asked Willow to use the Google to get a fix on a shop in New York City. She had also mentioned something about Message Boards, and putting up a Post on them to say he was in the city, and she asked if anyone sent him and Electronic Mail, should she send them to him. He saw no reason to say no.

Somethings, though, never changed. When he first entered the store, he had been hit with the aroma of dozens of different kinds of herbs There were shelves of them, all labeled in their jars with handmade description. Scattered about the store were tables with displays. Considering the time of the year, supplies for rituals for the Winter Solstice were front and center. Glass cases displayed other items, ranging from generic tools, to more specific, rare items. His well trained eye picked up on other items, ones that may night be sought out by witches, but rather those that were a little more active with the hidden world of the supernatural.

In the back, there were books and tomes on even more shelves, and it was there that Giles had himself tucked away. The entire place made him nostalgic, with memories of Sunnydale and the Magic Box living front and center. It was an old man's prerogative, to reminisce about simpler times, and, in his own way, mourn their loss. Had he been told that this was the road he would have ended up on, he might not have tried to halt their coming, but he would have tried to hold on just a little longer to them. Instead, he was a man rapidly approaching the age of 60, in a store that was designed with a much younger demographic in mind, wondering id this edge of self discovery that he was on was something to be chased or ignored.

Books were piled on the table in front of him, taking up half of square tabletop. He had selected a few to cross reference and was now crawling through their pages. He did not know if he was going to find many answers here, but he had to start somewhere. All of the resources he had with in his traveling library were ones that were of help to a Watcher. He had nothing that could help a witch... if it even turned out that was what he had become... what he always was? It was that question mark that stayed with him as he researched, quietly, in his little corner of this quaint store. Things did not stay quiet for him long, so he knew this moment would be rare and fleeting.

Maybe... he should try a spell? Something small, but not in the ritualistic way it was required for those not born with magical blood, but in the innate way that came from a witch heritage... He turned through the spell compendium, looking for something that would prove simple, subtle, and safe.

finding a place to start
 
tag: Lawrence Tarwick / word count: 617 / I am sorry that this took so long to get out. I placed the setting in a kind of neutral way, since I was unsure about Tarwick's plans, but it can definitely get moving more once they join up in the scene.

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Lawrence Tarwick
 Posted: Oct 21, 2017 | 4:30 pm
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There were many situations where his job was less than glamorous. Shoulder deep in a grave burning bones was one, ending up face down in a bog came to a close second, but it was hunting in winter that took the win. The cold had saturated his body and he was shivering. There had been an internal struggle this morning over practicality. Warmth was important, but if he had put on everything he had wanted to then mobility would be challenged. Right about now he was cursing himself for wearing only thermals beneath his normal clothes. His jacket was thick enough to keep some of the biting chill off, but his legs were starting to go tingly numb. There may have been a less than graceful moment where he had slid on ice mid-chase and fallen into a snow drift. May have been, jury was still out seeing as no one had witnessed the moment.

Regardless of the fall he was still out tracking the witch he had followed to town. It was quite possible that he was being taunted if he was honest with himself. The trail of deadly hexes he had followed from Mississippi felt more like he was being toyed with. Magic was not exactly his strong point. There was a little bit of him that wondered if he'd even be able to pull this off in the end. How did one end a witch anyway? If they were just people what in the hell would he do with the body? Rubbing his frozen hands together he glanced around the quiet streets a moment. It was obvious he had lost his prey, the snow had left footprints, sure, but he could no longer tell if it was his targets. This was probably why the witch had come into the city, to throw him. With the population here it was easier to blend in, stepping in another persons footsteps until you hit clear sidewalk.

Huffing out a cloud of frustration he stepped from the snow and onto the sidewalk himself. A few stomps of his boots and he'd managed to knock free a good portion of the frozen water clinging to him. For now he had lost whatever advantage he'd had so it was a priority to get feeling back in his limbs. Maybe eat something too. Spotting a convenience store down the block he trudged his way to it. Sniffling faintly as he pushed the door open. Blessed warmth greeted him and he shivered hard. He'd been outside much to long. Taking his time he got warm food, some coffee and dawdled in the store until he had feeling back in his extremities. Short of being told to leave he decided it was best to start searching the area. There had to be a place here that had brought the witch here. Assuming that hexes of the power he'd seen would need materials he decided that was his next target.

The thought crossed his mind that he should go back for his truck, at least momentarily. The one thing he hated about big cities was the lack of free parking. He had barely been able to find a place to stash his truck that wouldn't cost him an arm and a leg. Despite wishing for the trucks heated interior he trudged on, grumbling to himself about the warmer climates of the south. Just as he was going to turn around he spotted a store with lights on. Looking at the sign he thought it might be a good lead. If anything he could ask someone inside what he was dealing with. Carefully, of course. No need to get anyone else with magic involved in this, after all he could hardly deal with the one. Holding his coffee in both hands, despite it now being lukewarm, he headed for the door.

Opening it brought the smell of herbs and he thought he was in the right place. Quietly he slid inside, eyes darting over the wares. He'd been in only a few places that sold legitimate magical components, enough that he knew he was in the right place. He had only to figure out if the witch he was chasing had come here to refuel. At first he didn't notice the older man in the back of the store, intent on the counter. He needed answers and he supposed this was better than stumbling around in the dark. "Evenin'." He greeted the man behind the counter, sniffling as the warmth started his nose running. "Got a question to ask you, if you don't mind." Reaching into his pocket he pulled out a deconstructed hex bag he'd found at one of the murder scenes. He put it out in order, each component in a separate zip lock sandwich bag. "What exactly does this combination, uh, do?"

Tag: Rupert Giles / No worries! I can totally work with that, I'm excited for this!

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Rupert Giles
 Posted: Oct 25, 2017 | 9:05 pm
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Giles had reached a bit of a dilemma with himself. When it came to be a teacher, he felt like he had a lot of he right idea. He had trained Buffy, and since had trained a few other Slayers that had gone off on their own journeys. He remembered the long months he had spent with Willow while she recovered from a particularly dark turn. It could be argued that his success could be measured in the competence of his students. When it came to be the pupil, though, Giles was several decades out from being a student. As he remembered, he was not very receptive to being a student as it was, and directly resulted in a streak of rebellion.

He saw few options for himself outside of self guidance, though. There was something to be said about the phrase “You can't teach an old dog new tricks.” Who could he even find who would be willing to take him on? Maybe this was all a fool's errand to begin with. He had gone this long in his life without knowing that there was some sort of inherent talent in his blood. There was another saying about dogs, and letting the sleeping ones lie.

A shadow passed over the pages that he hands had settled on. It broke him out of his train of thought. He had long since stopped focusing on what was written on the pages anyway, with his mind slipping off into his own reverie. Someone was already talking to him, too, and he looked up into the face of a young man who appeared to have just come in front the cold. Giles could also smell the aroma of coffee that the man brought with him, and pondered if he could eventually venture out for a cup of his own. He did hate the idea of just sitting here to dive into research in books that did not belong to him...

The young man had placed something down on the table, and it was then that Giles clued in to what was going on. Clearly, this stranger thought that he worked here. He blinked a few times, and every time he did he felt the seconds stretch on between them. He looked out of the alcove of books that he had made for himself, looking out onto the floor of the shop, to find a proper employee, but found that it have become rather vacant. Rather, Giles could see no sign of the young woman with the dark makeup that had directed him previously.

He looked back up at the stranger, and came to the quick realization that he was the only one available for answers. For all he knew, this was something incredibly important. That, and perhaps Giles was just “too English.” After a moment of a few stutter stumbles while his brain changed gears, he resigned to pick up the little bags in front of him, and inspect them.

“These, um... These flowers appear to be from the lobelia genus. Overall, they are harmless, but when used for spellcraft are used for curses or hexes, focusing on discord. This one...” he said, placing one bag down and picking up the next. “is a bit easier to get a handle on. It's hemlock. I am not really aware of any form of hemlock that isn't poisonous. Generally speaking, poisonous plants are typically used when you want to be sure a spell will stick. The only thing that might make it hit harder would be using belladonna...” As he placed the second bag down, almost as if there was some kind of providence, he noticed the third bag. “Which it seems you have here...” There was one more bag that had few contents in it. “And, these seeds? They are small but.. I can guess that they are poppy.”

He leaned back away from the items. There was nothing serious about this at the moment. No sense in reacting like there was. 'If I had to make an educated guess, I would say this was a hex to cause discord in a relationship. I could not tell you the motive, but if the proper amount of belief was put into it, it would cause arguing, strife, and possibly even violence... if that does not sound too maudlin.” He looked up, trying to get a read on the stranger. Was this a joke? Some dalliance? It was hard to tell with young people these days.

finding a place to start
 
tag: Lawrence Tarwick / word count: 750 / ----


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Lawrence Tarwick
 Posted: Oct 26, 2017 | 2:13 am
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For a few moments after he had stopped talking he wondered if the man he was speaking to was even hearing him. The feeling only became more pressing as the others attention shifted around the room as if looking for someone. Uh oh. Did he not work here? That would be terribly embarrassing if that was the case. This guy was the only one he had seen when he'd walked in, and this wasn't a particularly large store either. Good thing he was still frozen or his cheeks may have colored more than the chill had already made them. That was when his eyes gazed over the stack of books around the table. Magic. They all had to do with magic. Which, he supposed, wasn't to terribly weird considering what kind of store he had walked into. It certainly didn't mean there was anything fishy about the guy.

Awkwardly standing there he sniffled again, wiping at his nose with the back of his jacket sleeve, a shiver running through him at the cold. Lawrence was about to apologize to the obviously flustered man when he seemed to resolve to help him and picked up one of his bags. Lobelia genus...man he really should have paid attention in school. Sniffling he decided to pay attention anyway, numb fingers pulling out a battered leather journal from an inner coat pocket to write down what the man was calling the items. Hemlock, he at least knew what that was. And belladonna. The last things, which he hadn't been sure if they were seeds or not were confirmed as such. Poppy seeds. At least he would be able to identify these at a later date. Hopefully cutting out these embarrassing forays into shops and meeting random strangers.

When Giles leaned back he took notice again, eyes darting up from the journal to him. "Discord in a relationship..." Well, that certainly sounded more innocent than what he had run into. Confused by his wording he had jotted down a few things and was frowning at it, lines creasing his forehead. "What do you mean by, uh, proper belief?" His free hand gestured at the bags, eyes scanning them as if they had the answers he was looking for. "Does that mean that...that the more someone what? Believes in their...uh...hex? That it works better? Or uh makes it stronger? What if it has, uhm, malicious intent? Y'know, beyond obviously being a hex." It took him a long moment before he realized the other man was looking up at him now, obviously trying to figure him out.

Clearing his throat he shifted awkwardly from one foot to the other before he tucked his pen in the journal he'd been writing in. "Wow, my apologies...I uh, didn't mean to interrupt your uh..." Gesturing at the books and not finding anything to say he let his hand drop uncomfortably. Had he ever been good at human interaction or had he just simply gotten worse at it? "My names Lawrence." Offering his hand in greeting rather than continue being weird. "I uh...I take it you don't actually work here? You were the only person I saw in here...real sorry about invading your uh, space." Wow, good, real good Lawrence. Totally smooth, not nearly as awkward as he could have been however. Honestly he needed to spend some time among real people before he became anymore estranged.

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Rupert Giles
 Posted: Nov 7, 2017 | 10:40 pm
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Something about the young man's stuttering and stammering gave Giles pause. It didn't send up red flags, at least, not in the traditional sense of it all. There was a difference between casual interest and curiosity and the weight that this man had around him. There was a seriousness to his tone and demeanor, but an uncertainty. That was something that was coming from a lack of experience, though, not jest. He let him ramble. It allowed him to get all his questions out, If it was a prank, he was not very good at it, and after he gave his name to Giles (albeit, it could be a false one) Rupert was more than certain that this was legitimate.

under the table, Giles moved his foot to kick out he chair that was across from him, sliding it out as an invitation for the other man to sit down. ”Please join me, Lawrence?” he said, hoping that he did not sound too enigmatic to send the other screaming into the night. “I think I might be able to help you.” He closed the spell compendium, and set it off to the side. Temporarily, at least, his personal concerns with the occult could be put aside. Lawrence seemed like a man out of his element, and when here was magick involved, it was often best met immediately.

“You have a lot of questions here, I am going to lie, so let me see if we can cover them all? Let me know how I do?” He adjusted his eyeglasses and focused down on the ingredients, this time giving them more than just a cursory and passing glance, and tackled it as more of a legitimate problem to be solved. He took a look out into the main part of the store for anyone who might overhear them. Just because they were in a magic shop did not mean that they were among understanding friends. “The first thing to learn about magick is that, in most cases- and remember there are always exceptions- but in most cases, there needs to be at least a kernel of belief in the work for it to have any sort of effect. The more talented practitioners often get that way because they have been working long enough to dissuade all personal confidence issues.”

He was feeling like he was slipping back into his old, teaching ways, but was that so wrong? He had literally based him entire life journey around being a Watcher, and he had taken care of more young minded people than he had been promised. This felt natural. ”Someone working with malicious intent might be able to add that extra burst of confidence into it, that added belief, to truly make something work practically. I am not working about Wiccan candle magic here, Lawrence. I am talking about actual magick that can have real world effects on people.” He casually wondered if Lawrence had ever seen someone lob a fireball out of thin air, or if he was a complete novice.

“And to answer your concerns, no I do not work here, no matter what kind of retail experience I have had in the past. My occupation is...” Too much too soon. “...something else. But I have experience. And that lies me to questions of my own.” He voice dropped, not maliciously but out of secrecy. “Where did you find this? They were in a hex bag, right? How did you come across it?” Maybe Lawrence was just dabbling, and then Giles would need to give him the “magick has consequences” speech. But if he did not make it, but found it, then there might be more of a story here.

finding a place to start
 
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Lawrence Tarwick
 Posted: Nov 7, 2017 | 11:40 pm
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Never in his life would he admit that the chair being kicked out for him made him jump a little, tensing for an attack he knew, rationally, was not coming. Being jumpy wasn't a terribly new thing for him. Being jumpy over a chair, however, that was kinda surprising. Once upon a time he remembered someone telling him that it was less about the object and more about the sudden nature of movement. Breathing out a bit he let himself relax, the older gentleman was offering him a seat so they could talk. As much as he preferred standing to try and shake off the cold he knew sitting would give him the same result. If he could just somehow manage to sit still and not squirm that, in itself, would be the real miracle.

"Uh, sure, yes sir." Nodding a little and moving to sit in the chair, awkwardly on the edge of it, like he was ready to bolt. The journal he held got put uncertainly on the desk and he curled his frozen digits around the coffee with the others. Sniffling again his gaze slid around the room quietly as if reassessing his situation before looking to Giles once more. He said he could help him, which was good. He knew he was in over his head with this magic stuff, never quite able to wrap his head around how it worked. "Any help would be appreciated." He managed, eyes taking time to try and figure out if this was a trick or not.

There had been to many questions and he knew he had gone on a rambling train of thought. It was something he did when he was trying to figure something out, sometimes he was alone, times like this he had an audience. But the questions had been legitimate anyway, and they weren't exactly things he could figure out on his own. Heck, he hadn't even known where to start looking for serious magic. It seemed, like usual, that he had stumbled onto a very lucky situation. What were the odds of finding someone who knew what he was talking about, didn't think he was a joke, and was actually willing to help? Not very good, usually.

It seemed his new acquaintance was just as paranoid of people overhearing them because he did a cursory glance around to be sure they weren't being listened in to. Nice to know it wasn't just him that got that way. With his fingers finally having feeling back in them he placed his coffee on the floor, not wanting it anywhere near these books at all. Then he set about opening his journal back to where he'd been writing, his small chicken scratch covered the page, both with descriptions of the hex bag and pictures, crudely drawn as well as printed out, accompanying some of the words. In most cases magic needed belief. Curious, but at least something he could understand. Confidence seemed to be key, and could possibly push a hex above and beyond its purpose. If he understood correctly.

He had been writing down things he found important and things that he wanted to look into later, like this Wiccan candle magic. Ah. Looking up at him he felt awkward again. He didn't work here. This man spoke of experience, which set his hackles up, especially when he said his past occupation was 'something else'. Huh. There was no real time to pursue that as he started to be asked questions. What could it hurt right? "I found it." The frown tugged at his face as he remembered how and where he had found it, and the blood, so much of it. Shaking his head he reached into his jacket again to pull out the scrap of fabric and the tie that had held it all together. "I was...um...looking into...uh...weird...things...occurrences. Found this at, uh." Man, explaining what he did without actually saying it was hard. "A home. It was stuffed in a bookcase." Because that's where he had found the very first one it had been easier to find them after. "Its the...the fourth I've found so far. Same circumstance, same...uh...outcome."

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Rupert Giles
 Posted: Nov 15, 2017 | 2:09 am
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Watching Lawrence stammer his way through his comments and questions was a curious thing to Giles. The young man was taking his time to choose his words and phrases carefully. He was hiding something, although Giles got the impression that it was not in the sense that Lawrence himself was dangerous. He was involved, even if just a little, in the supernatural world, and he did not know how much he could trust Giles with it. He had found himself in the same position a number of times. He could recall his earlier days as an active Watcher, trying to cover things up from students and his fellow faculty at the high school. He imagined he came off just as jabbering.

He also remembered the relief he felt when more people made it obvious that they knew something was afoot... and the absolute assuagement it gave his nerves to find others on his side. Not just “his” students, either, but peers... People like Jenny. Before her, all he had at his disposal was a Council back home that distrusted him, his books, and a few high school students who were constantly out of their element. It made him feel for the young man. So, he was not about to let him get away with telling Giles half of the story.

Folding his hands on top of the table, he quickly regarded Lawrence. He was taking notes, and had been for some time, if the personal notebook was any clue. He was not completely green in his experience, but he was certainly a fish out of water. So, he leveled his gaze at him. It was a look that he often reserved for young people, the kind that told them that his experience was hinting at him that there was more to the story than they were letting on. Clearly, Lawrence had some sort of respect for his elders. He had already called him “sir..”

“Lawrence, if I am going to help you, I need to know more.” He paused for a second, reconsidering what he was asking of the other man. “I am going to need the truth. The whole truth, too, Not these half ones that you have been feeding me.” He realized as he spoke that he knew who it was that Lawrence reminded him of. It was not of himself. Giles had always been an inquisitive child, who did not wilt in the face of true authority, much to his own father's chagrin.

No... in some ways, Lawrence reminded him of a different man. The young Watcher had feigned confidence when he walked into the library all those years ago, there to train a Slayer of his own, and pick up where Giles had “failed.” But the man had stammered through most of those early days. He had been thrown into the deep end without a life jacket, and Giles had not offered his help. He had been bitter, at the time, and saw the young man as a constant sign of the Council's overbearing nature. He resented him, and that had not been fair. He had never made it up to him either... Giles had long ago left Sunnydale when he got the news of what happened in Los Angeles, and the fate of one Wesley Wyndam-Pryce.

“So please,” he said, those hands still folded on the table, calm and patient. “Tell me what truly happened.“

finding a place to start
 
tag: Lawrence Tarwick / word count: 571 / written with a fever, so if it makes no sense, do not be afraid to poke me!

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Lawrence Tarwick
 Posted: Nov 15, 2017 | 6:38 am
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For a long moment Lawrence didn't even notice how quiet his new acquaintance was. When he did, about halfway through his jumbled reply he found the man watching him. Then he had found himself uncertain if he had already said to much. Especially considering he had not yet located the witch he had been chasing just a little while ago. While he was somewhat certain this man had nothing to do with the cases he had been working he really couldn't help but wonder anyway. If he knew anything from his time chasing monsters he knew that most of the time he was underequipped at times. Besides he had no idea how magic worked, obviously.

The intense look being sent his way made him squirm though, feeling as if he was being seen straight through. That realization sent him still, realizing that his awkward attempts at not saying anything outright had already been foiled. So much for keeping this random stranger out of his business right? He supposed that intruding on the man and asking as many questions as he had been really had put that all to the wayside though. Guy had a right to know, and the way he was looking at him made him feel like a guilty little kid. In the end he decided he couldn't just ask without giving a little in return. He needed to work on lying with a straight face.

Half truths. Lawrence found that he'd been living this life exactly like that, half truths, lies, and avoidance. It was different than how he had been, even during his military service he hadn't ever needed to lie. That was the nature of fighting supernatural creatures though. Still he was hesitant to open up to this man. More than he already had anyway. Hell he'd already let the cat out of the bag about the whole reason for being here. Might as well right? Letting out a breath he nervously reached for his coffee to get a good drink from it, the liquid giving him both time and warmth. Maybe admitting he was in over his head wouldn't be bad.

"Alright...the truth. Yeah, sure, I can do that." Lawrence wouldn't look at Giles for a moment as he thought, deciding whether it was truly for the best. In the next moment he had just shrugged. "I'm a Hunter, but I'm pretty new at it and I'm in over my head. Been chasing this witch town to town for months. I know absolutely nothing about magic. Heck, I don't even know what I'm going to do when I finally catch up. But I have to do something. These-" He gestured at the contents of the hex bag on the table. "Are all I've found besides...well...besides the victims. Four pairs so far. Always husband and wife, always alone, always violent deaths on both parts. It...it always looks like they have a history of domestic violence but...its like they beat each other to death. The scenes have been....intense."

The sharp way he had inhaled he realized he was letting it be to personal and he tried to smile weakly, faltering a little because he just didn't feel it. The scenes were always brutal and he hadn't understood how a tiny little hex bag could do so much damage. "Its been frustrating." More than just frustrating, really, it was keeping him up late at night. Making him drive at all hours of the day and night to find this person. Like he had needed the extra motivation to not sleep. "I haven't been able to even catch a glimpse of this person. Got close today but..." But he was cold and the snow had slowed his progress more than he would have liked. "I was to slow, and I figured I needed to figure out what I'm up against before, well, before I do come face to face with them."

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Rupert Giles
 Posted: Nov 21, 2017 | 2:53 am
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The seriousness in his gaze did not slacken as Lawrence told him his story. Instead, he waited. He did not interrupt, or interject with any questions. Ever part of Giles' senses took in the story. He noted to himself that this was probably the first time he had heard the man speak more than a few words without stalling or stammering. There were no pauses to suggest that he was not trying to think up something on the spot. In fact, it felt that Giles was finally getting a look at the truth of the matter, which meant that he could finally start dissecting the problem.

With more information at his disposal, Giles was able to start painting a picture. He could imagine it now; some witch with a vendetta or a murderous streak could sneak into the house of a couple at any time. It could have happened hours, days, or weeks before the deaths actually happened. Maybe she was picking targets who already had problems so it would not be suspicious if things turned violent. Maybe the violence was caused by the placement of these hex-bags, and a gradual escalation over time would not be odd to local authorities. Having more answers meant that there were more questions... but at least he knew what questions to ask now.

His concern, though, was that this was not the right place to have this conversation. They were talking candidly about murder, and that would perk a few ears. “We shouldn't keep up this kind of conversation here...” Their good fortune of not having the shop's clerk or any other customer stop in on them was not going to hold out for much longer. If this man was a Hunter, the he would certainly understand Rupert's paranoid caution. Giles took a moment to consider their options, before he indicated Lawrence's silence with a hand gesture. No, they could not stay here.

Without further words, he stood up. His eye contact with Lawrence suggested that he was not ending the conversation, but clearly it was time to move it. He returned the few books that he had taken down to their place on the shelves, before he scooped up his jacket and shrugged into it. Right on time, too. The clerk seemed to be back from wherever she had gone on break, and was returning to her post at the counter. She watched Giles as he moved, who walked over to the nearby herb counter. He picked up a sleeve of charcoal pellets, a book of matches, and a bagful of herbs labeled “Protection.” He knew what was in it from his initial glance earlier in the day: asafetida, lavender, linden, and frankincense. He paid for the purchase, and headed for the door. Either Lawrence was long gone by now, or he was going to follow behind him.

Giles was doing things on the fly now. A murdering witch, though, would need to dealt with. The cool air hit his face with a harsh bite. It was nights like this that Giles was almost disappointed that he had given up smoking. It was the kind of weather that a cigarette would have warmed him up. Instead, he showed his hands with his purchase deep into the pockets of his coat, and started to walk. “Do you have a place nearby?”

finding a place to start
 
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Lawrence Tarwick
 Posted: Nov 22, 2017 | 1:56 am
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When he had finished up with his story he had glanced at Giles to see if the man believed him. It was odd to have someone watch and listen to intently without even one interruption. If he was being taken seriously, which he thought he was, perhaps he'd actually find a way to get ahead of this. There had to be a way to stop this witch from hurting anyone else, a way to stop the body trail he'd been following. If stumbling into this guy could help him here and on future hunts then this whole thing had been worth a stop. What surprised him was the fact that the concern was about what they were talking about. Well, yeah, this probably wasn't the place to be having an open air discussion about the supernatural.

That, among other things, made him smile for the first time, letting a light dance in his eyes. "Yeah, completely agreed." This type of talk could get them some weird looks, cops called, all kinds of not very good things. So he scooped up the baggies on the table and slid them nimbly into his jacket. The feeling had returned to his hands finally he realized, enabling him to scoop and hide the various ingredients away. The journal came next, snapped shut and tucked away as the other man indicated a need for silence. With a nod he respected the instruction and got up himself, being sure to take his coffee with him.

As Giles went to the clerk he himself had slid out of the clerks sight and toward the door. Hesitating once there he waited a moment to think and then slipping out the door behind him and back into the chilly night. Standing just out of the shops warm light he looked up and down the street for a sign of people. With the cold and the lateness of the night there was significantly less people than normal. It was good, doing what he was doing was easier when there weren't a million witnesses. Which is why he generally avoided these huge cities as a strict rule. When the witch had come here he had felt cursed, there were millions of things that could go wrong here.

The door opening to reveal his new acquaintance had him pushing away from the wall. The guys bag or purchases goods disappeared into his pockets as Lawrence fell into step beside him. Realizing almost immediately that the man was a lot taller than he'd thought, of course sitting kind of had that effect. At least six foot though, not that it really mattered he thought to himself. "I have a hotel room." He managed to reply, looking strangely embarrased. Since becoming a hunter he'd delved head first into a realization that he was going to need a way to pay for things. Thus he was booked under the name on the credit card he had swiped almost a year ago. "Its a bit of a walk from here though, I, uh...was chasing said witch." Which meant it was a bit further than he's like away from them.

Tag: Rupert Giles

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Rupert Giles
 Posted: Dec 5, 2017 | 1:49 pm
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player: Jax
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Giles could watch his breath catch on the wind, fogging in the chilled air. He could feel the cold start to creep into his bones, a feeling that had come with age. It was a feeling that he had been dreading since the time his age had peeked over 40, and he had already started to feel the weight of a body that had long since moved past a time when he should be out there playing hero. He would always push himself and he knew it. He was just wondering for how much longer he would be able to.. Here he was, taking to the streets with a man who was probably at least half his age, to help him track down some witch who was actively killing people. Hunting should be left to the younger people, yet here he was...

”A bit of a walk” was a different thing to different people. Giles had become used to walking many places while growing up in London. An unreliable car meant that he took the Underground or just used his feet most of the time. Even in this weather, with his aches, Giles preferred to walk. It cleared his head the same way that his books or a swift sip of black coffee might. Usually, his thoughts would wander when he walked, but there was a task set before him, and he had company to tend to. People out there were dying, after all, and Lawrence seemed to be at a loss for things himself.

“Perhaps it is for the best. I keeps us from getting too comfortable.” He nodded to himself, partially in affirmation, but also in part as a way to warm up a part of his body that he could already feel getting stiff from the wind. He quickly pulled the collar of his pea coat up to cover the exposed, and made a note to get himself a scarf in the near future. They had not planned on being in New York this long, him and Buffy, but so much had gone wrong with the spell... with Hell... It still did not sit right with him how easy it had been to go so wrong.

“Everything you have said suggests that this witch is still on the run, at large, and working on a new target.” He resisted the urge to want to know more about this witch; sometimes, a motive was helpful in figuring out where to go next. “Spells like this, that use hex bags, are usually used when the witch wants something to work over time, instead of an instant spell to occur immediately. Is there any connection between the victims? It could be something as simple as a book club, or they all graduated from the same high school. If we can figure out the next victim, then we can get ahead of all of this, and stop another tragedy from occurring.” It could be something as simple as removing the hex bag from a residence to keep people safe.

He felt terrible for asking so many questions, but more than likely if there was any information to be had, Lawrence had it.

finding a place to start
 
tag: Lawrence Tarwick / word count: 518 / ----

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Lawrence Tarwick
 Posted: Dec 7, 2017 | 1:14 pm
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His hotel room was across central park which is how he'd come to be so covered in snow. The park was harder to plow after all, which made it more snow covered than the rest of the city. The very thought of trudging through it was daunting, but it would be quicker than trying to walk around it. It would even save time. A small huffed laugh left him when the older man mentioned not getting to comfortable. Lawrence wasn't sure he'd ever be comfortable anywhere anymore, his old work and his new work made it hard to not be on edge. Sure maybe that was edging toward hyper-vigilance that may be trouble sometime down the road, but for now he needed it.

"Quickest way is back the way I came, through the park." He said, pointing across the street vaguely. The running had brought him a ways from both his truck and the room he'd rented. At least now he had company on the walk back though. Having someone to talk to about these things was nice, considering he'd been on his own for awhile now. Sniffling faintly he glanced around the streets again before he crossed the road. It was frustrating that he'd gotten this far to lose them again. There was quite a bit of guilt surrounding him in this case. If he'd known anything about magic he may have been able to stop this person before so many deaths had happened.

Nodding in response to the assessment he sighed a little. "I've followed this one up from the south. Always one step behind." He had been close here though, he just hoped he could stop the next escalation of violence in time. And put a stop to this witch if he could. This sort of thing is why working alone was not going to work for him forever. Chasing monsters and doing research on top of that was becoming hard to do. There was just to many monster cases out there. "I haven't been able to really get any information that makes sense. They all were in high school together, but it doesn't seem like they were in any clubs or anything together."

Keeping pace with his new companion he stepped over the mountain of snow and into the park, seeing his own footprints through the area. Even now he could see the place he'd found ice and taken his spill into the snow. Maybe if he hadn't fallen he would have caught them. Shaking that thought off he reached up to run a hand through his hair to push it back over his head again. "I took a yearbook from the first victim, been trying to figure out the pattern but there doesn't seem to be one. Not that I can tell anyway." All the same graduating class, but beyond that they had nothing in common. Not that he could see anyway.

"All of them were in the same graduating class, but different clubs. I haven't found a single picture linking them, and it doesn't look like any of them kept in touch with one another. One of the couples neighbors said they had gone to a twenty year school reunion the summer before this last one." Which was really the only thing he could think they may have all gone to, but he couldn't prove it. Some people simply hadn't known if they had or not. But if he assumed they had it at least put them all in the same area. If that proved to pan out he was sure it was someone they had known. Perhaps known enough to even let them in.

Tag: Rupert Giles

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