03.2023 | WELCOME BACK! Hello friends old and new! I'm so excited to welcome you all back to SITW! I've made some changes to the plot and added the ability to play supernatural charcaters! So come and check it out! I can't wait to jump back into this little town with all of you!
A strange history surrounds the town, it is a place where mysterious and supernatural things have been known to happen. The reputation of the town reguarly draws in visitors and newcomers alike. While some residents avidly believe in the supernatural, others are far more skeptical. What do you believe?
Although reasonably certain he had secured living arrangements with a certain woodland recluse, Tristan preferred to cover his bases. That meant stopping by the local motel and taking a note of the prices. He was debating on renting a separate room closer to town. But he did not feel the need to have his own space and much preferred company.
He talked to the woman at the desk briefly, not entirely thrilled about the price. If things did not work out with Elrond, it was perhaps his only other option. It had been a long time since Tristan owned a home. It simply didn't seem practical to him. The clerk pushed the amenities and the location, but he didn't need her to sell him on anything, considering it was the only motel in town. He told her as much. She just looked at him and then blushed. Tristan belatedly realized she was probably talking to him so much just to flirt. He sighed and pushed himself away from the desk, turning his attention to the lobby.
It was a well-kept place. Clean, modern, much nicer than the last motel he stayed in. If it was warm and there was something to sleep on besides the ground, that was usually enough for the werewolf. The lobby was cozy, and largely empty, but taking in the snowfall outside, that didn't seem surprising in an out of the way place like this. His dark gaze shifted to the elevator when the door dinged, and he watched a young woman with a very iconic hair cut step out. He asked her the most important question of the moment. "How is the breakfast here?"
Laundry day. She hated laundry day but it was a necessity. While she loved staying her airstream, there were certain amenities that living in long term were made difficult. To find a motel that actually had a laundry room was a blessed perk. It saved her the few cents of having to go to a laundromat anyway. Coming down the elevator to the lobby with a basket of laundry she was addressed shortly after she stepped out.
Looking up she saw a stranger, something that seemed to happen most often at the motel as after being here for about 9 months now, most of the faces she saw were starting to become familiar. Looking at the man she could appreciate him for his good looks but more so the same way she'd look at a piece of art. Being gay he just didn't really do it for her. She quirked a smile and let out a little amused huff. "What breakfast?" she replied but then saw the look from the receptionist behind the man giving her a disapproving expression.
"They usually have a few individually wrapped muffins, some fruit, and occasionally bagels and cream cheese on a good day." In spite of what the receptionist wanted her to say, Bex wasn't about to outright lie to the guy. "You new to town or passing through?" she asked, adjusting the basket on her hip.
Post by Tristan Morrigan on Dec 22, 2023 0:30:10 GMT
Tristan's lips pursed in thought, determining how best to rephrase the question of whether this motel provided food in the morning to guests and what quality it might be. He opened his mouth slightly to pose it again, when he noticed the woman looking past him at the desk. The werewolf looked over his shoulder in time to catch the receptionist breaking eye contact with the motel resident. He'd missed something. Not unusual.
And then the woman was describing a rather poor complimentary breakfast. A rather poor cold complimentary breakfast. Not that there was anything directly wrong with a good muffin or bagel with cream cheese. Certainly not with fruit either. But Tristan heard a distinct lack of protein. Specifically, sausage links or bacon. Even ham or a sausage paddy would have been entirely acceptable. He let out a soft hum of both appreciation and thought to her words. He considered asking after the type of bagels, but she asked him a question in turn. "Both?" he guessed. He was new, for certain. Whether he was passing through or staying remained to be seen. The small town seemed a decent place to spend the winter exploring.
He had noticed she was carrying a laundry basket but didn't seem to connect the dots until just then with how she moved it. "Apologies," he said simply, not having wished to take up her time or distract her from her task, though he certainly appreciated it. Home cooked meals were much more appealing. "May I be of assistance?" He didn't seem too concerned that he was a stranger offering to help another stranger with her chores. She'd done him a favor, after all, so the least he could do was offer one in return.
Bex wasn't exactly the most trusting kind of person, especially with men, and even more so with men who were strangers. She'd been traveling alone for long enough to have her fair share of run ins with people who weren't as truthful in their motives as they'd like you to believe. On top of that she also had a 'I can do this just as well as you' kind of mentality. Being a woman didn't make her a damsel.
So instead of accepting his help she set down the laundry basket at her feet so she didn't have to hold it and express she was in no hurry. "Nah, I'm alright. Thanks though," she wasn't a total bitch, she could still appreciate the offer in case it was actually a genuine one. "Well, I can tell you that Sweetwater," though perhaps this motel was not the best indicator, "is actually pretty, well, sweet." She smiled a little. "I've been here about eight or nine months now. Longer than I expected to stay but it has it's charm. You know, in case you were curious to know."
Post by Tristan Morrigan on Jan 16, 2024 4:52:34 GMT
Tristan didn't often expend the effort to conceal his motives. Emotions were complicated and messy. He merely shrugged at her refusal of his help and didn't read anything into it.
The word obvious wordplay had not been one he had yet heard before in town and simple or not, it was amusing. If someone relatively new to town was enjoying her time here, that was probably a good sign. Especially considering that from her scent, she was human. Meaning either she was aware of the way of the world and comfortable here, or she was blissfully unaware and that meant that the packs and any other supernaturals around were keeping their noses and claws clean. It was boring, but safe. And safe was indeed sweet.
"I am," he said, appreciating her words. His gaze drifted over her tattoos briefly. "Did you come here for work?" Likely she had stayed for the work, at least. Tristan was still curious how so many supernaturals found this space, if it was chance or something else. Apparently, humans weren't immune to the draw either.
She noticed the way he briefly examined her tattoos but thought nothing of it. He wasn't the first and he certainly wouldn't be the last. Some people showed interest, others disdain, and unless he spoke up then she wasn't about to assume one way or the other.
"Not exactly," she said with a little shrug and a soft smile. "I'd been traveling around the country in my airstream for a few years, usually staying at places not much longer than a month or so, when I kind of stumbled into this place. I thought it would be like every other place and I got a quick job at the bar serving drinks to stay on my feet and, well, I'm still here." She looked thoughtful for a moment before she shook herself out of her thoughts. "I guess I just haven't found a reason to leave yet."
Post by Tristan Morrigan on Jan 23, 2024 20:11:24 GMT
He hadn't the slightest idea what an airstream was, but he gathered it was some sort of vehicle. The woman certainly had the look of a drifter about her. And even more so a bartender once she mentioned serving drinks. But she didn't look like she belonged in some backwater town like this. Of course, Tristan had stumbled upon a few people like that around here, which only seemed to support his theory. Not that it mattered.
"The cold breakfast," Tristan said simply, not at all concerned with the receptionist behind him. That seemed as good a reason to leave as any. He sincerely hoped she didn't eat here most mornings. Thankfully his roommate enjoyed cooking, which was already better than the food here.
Bex laughed loudly, her shoulders shaking, at his reply. "Okay that was good," she said, still chuckling as her eyes sparkled. "You should come by the bar sometime, it's a fun place to hang out." One of the only well known social places in Sweetwater but she didn't mentioned. "Harland's."
She certainly wouldn't mind running into him there and pointing out some of the more entertaining locals around.
Post by Tristan Morrigan on Feb 24, 2024 0:35:47 GMT
Tristan's eyes smiled back at the laughed he received. Of course, he had been serious. Mostly. Still, he was glad the woman seemed otherwise content. He knew how much traveling could both fill a void and create a longing for a place of one's own. Hopefully she had indeed found it here. Even if the breakfast left something to be desired.
"Harland's." he repeated. He'd heard that name before. From Gemma. The deputy werewolf had mentioned him as a contact for pack politics. Interesting to know he also had a bar named after him. Likely he ran it. Perhaps he didn't need Gemma to put him in touch with the Sentinel. Something more casual might be better. "I think I shall," Tristan said. "My name is Tristan, by the way," he said, inclining his head. "Good to meet you. I should let you get back to laundry."
Bex smiled when he said he'd check out that bar. As much as she worked it would be highly likely she'd be there whenever he decided to pop by. "I'm Bex, it's good to meet you too Tristan," she replied, adjusting the laundry on her hip. "Have a nice day and I'll see you around," she said, offering a lift of her chin rather than a wave goodbye given that her hands were full before she walked away.