It was late, he knew it was better for him to stay in doors at home where he was much safer there than out in the giant big ol' world that younglings like him should never be. He was nothing more than just a kit whose curious nature often got the best of him. He missed home in West Virginia where he was born and raised. Fishing trips was one of the things he recalled with his dear papa. On some Saturdays, father and son will row out a little further so that they'll have room to catch the biggest fish they can manage to tackle.
Trout, bass, tuna, and other water creatures lurked in the rippling streams. How to find lots of fish was all about timing his father will say, learn when their most active especially at dusk when there all swimming around. He rented a boat in town, hopped in and started going to the park where there was probably enough to catch. The boat was made of cedar wood, he was all by himself with no friends or family to do any of this with him.
Owen never complained of the silence nor of lacking the company of what one calls friends. He took the oar and began paddling along the shore banks of the clear stream looking for something moving underneath. He wore an orange life jacket, if there was one of the many things he's been taught before going out in the water with someone or alone is preparation. There was a canteen filled with juice he received from his new house, carried a few sandwiches in a plastic ziploc bag so that will be enough for him while he was out.
A few seagulls flew over his head, their raucous calls echoing in the air and the spread of their wings glided on air currents, some was diving for food while others found places to rest along the trees, ground, and other surfaces to cling on. Pelicans in the distance also thought to take a perch. The oar dipped into the water some more until he was in safe distance. He was smart enough to not go too far out. Throwing the fishing pole back, he lured the line into the water then waited.
There were times when being on the trail of a murderer or being surrounded by spirits could begin to feel like a bit much. One needed to get away from it all, and a nice dim pub was not always the answer. Declan lay upon the bank of the river, a tackle box beside him. His arms crossed behind his head, his gaze lifted to the clouds, his jeans rolled up to the knee, his bare feet in the water. Beside him, stuck into the ground was the tail end of a fishing rod, the bobber on the line quietly floating along the water, occasionaly the pleasant sound of the line clicking out heard as it got swept by a ripple.
He drew in a deep breath, his chest heaved as he exhaled a long sigh, smiling up at the clouds. He wondered if Maya liked fishing. Would she think hooking a worm was gross? She would get bored, he imagined, sitting here waiting for a fish to bite, and likey start screaming at the fish to hurry up. This thought had him grin. Note to self, we likely won't be taking Maya fishing.
The sound of a boat had his head lifted, one eye squinted shut as he shielded his gaze from the sun. His head canted, he recognized Owen from the Art Gallery, the hand upon his brow lifted up in a wave.
Is that? No, it could not be! But it was the same guy who by chance was passing through at the Art Gallery with Georgia in tow the other day. He left his pole in line, keeping his attention on it. Placing the left side of his hand against his forehead like peering at the blazing hot sun except it was dark. A few fireflies buzzed around his head, they certainly was enjoying their exploration from beneath the grass after hiding so long.
The insects came rather harmless or not, those biting ones in New Orleans wasn't left out either. Mosquitoes were everywhere, didn't worry his head with them. Declan! He shot up a hand waving to him from a few feet away. Another fisher was always a plus sign. Men fished, you did not see many girls doing too much of that outside of malls and doing what girls usually do in their spare time. "Ahoy there!"He was getting back into his outdoor lifestyle or end up ripping his hair out if he didn't. This is where he belonged. The insects, wildlife, mother nature, and oh my goodness!
He forgot the alcoholic beverages. Ah well. Owen could head on home to grab a cold beer the minute he stepped through the doors of his loving home he'll get back to later. Right now, the young wereleopard was too happy to give a damn what anyone thought of him. He never did, nope. Better to use this time to have that company one keeps in the mist. "May I join you?!"He shouted. It was up to the other fellow with his set of gears.
His hand swatted lightly at a buzzing insect that seemed a bit too curious for Declan's sake. He could not help but grin at the enthusiasm of Owen. The man certainly liked his fishing, didn't he. "Two lines are better than one. That way, you can offer the fish a choice. Either way, one of us gets to go home with it." he said with a chuckle, sitting up straight. "In other words, yes. Come on, then."
Declan shifted, his feet still in the water. Owen might have forgotten the beer, but he was now fishing with an Irishman, afterall. As the boat drew closer, Declan reached over to his small igloo cooler, pulling out a Killian's. He set it down upon the ground beside him, another pulled out and uncapped. He took a slow pull as he regarded the man before him. Declan was still new to the concept of supernaturals, shifters, vampires, whatever else was out there. Would he had known Maya was a wolf had she not told him? No. Would he had known any of those he had met at the house of Geller were anything more than people? No. Had he known that Keisah was anything more than a morgue worker? Well, yes. He had known back in the morgue that there was something more. He just didnt know what. So, what, if anything, was Owen?
He shifted forward, his hand reaching to test the tautness of his line, he waited for Owen to join him. "Fine evening to you." He said with a grin. "Art Galleries, fishing expeditions...you get around. So what is it that you do in the meantime? If, that is, you don't mind my askin." he asked, his head slightly canted in query.
At first, you would not suspect this innocent and cunning boy to be anything but human. His boat stopped near the shoreline where he leapt from the vessel to join his new acquaintance in their fishing expedition. Did Owen mean to explore the depths of who the man was as his feline within sniffed what was human, but there was a hole that showed the male who became more curious of him. His hair jostled freely in the soft breeze as the winds to the east picked up, the echoes of the fowls sing songs of the night. Kicking his shoes off, he laid them and his socks to the side so that his own bare feet slipped into the cold liquid that was comforting. In the heat, this place was a recommendation to cool off when moving around under the rays of the burning star. The ozone layer told you it wasn't going to be pretty, listen to it.
Casting his line into the stream, he rotated some of his shoulders to release a bit of tension in the muscles. He sure do get around, if there are areas that held his interests. Owen did not frequent Art Galleries too much, it was just a moment that he walked freely in there on auto pilot for whatever reason. His own line was not biting at the moment, but he was a patient man that he did not rush, no need to be. He heard Declan, he did not look at him even as he spoke. One thing about nestling with the cats is this, you can be sure their calm just as if they hunting for their prey after dark.
The hints were out there during his time spending it with Declan whose interest in fishing matched that of his. This was a full out West Virginian inhabitant he was talking to. Fishing, mountaineers, hunting, the small town with people who found night to be an enjoyable adventure. Except he didn't mine. Not him, not ever. Hard hats really did not look good on his head. "I am a Counsellor and doctor Declan. What about you?"He canted his head, the crickets stirring filled the silence of their conversation. "Thanks a tons for letting me join you. I mean I am just beginning to recognize I need to get out of the dust, frequent out more."Unlike wolves, his type were incredibly solitary specimens who could deal all on their own.
Owen was indeed an odd one. Not odd in a bad 'no sudden moves' sort of way, just...nearly impossible to get a read off of. Declan canted his head, inclined it in a nod. "Oh, well, I am never one to mind a bit of company. Makes the days go by and all." He smiled, shifting over, his line examined again, still no bite, but, that wasn't entirely the point of fishing anyway.
He studied the man beside him as he spoke, his brow furrowed. "Doctor and Counselor, yeah? Well." he grinned. "Someone certainly enjoys their school!" he chuckled as he took another pull from the Killian's, a deep breath drawn in. "What do I do?" He repeated the question as he pondered, reaching up to stroke his chin. "Ah, well...I suppose you could say I am a bit of a counselor as well? I mean...people do come to me for answers. I am more of a mediator, I suppose. A facilitator. And, well...possibly a bit of a fortune teller, so to speak. It's...complicated." he said with a shrug and a slight grin.
His gaze was captured by the sudden buzz of his reel, his line went taut, the bobber raced erratically across the surface. "Hullo!" Declan said, his hands moving to lift the pole from the ground, one hand turning the ratchet quickly. "Big one, yeah? He's got some fight!" Declan gritted his teeth slightly, both hands now tugging on the pole, bending against the tension as the line lost more and more slack. "Christ on a crooked crutch! Am I hooked on a log? Or..."
Before Declan could finish this thought, there was an eruption from the water, a flopping bass as well as a slime covered crooked branch flew out and towards him, Declan helpless to do anything but stare at the incoming missiles. "Woah, woah...woah there!" His arms windmilled slightly as the bass flopped against his chest between his rapidly groping hands, the branch smacked upon his forehead, sending him rather unceremoniously ass over teakettle to his back.
He laid there for a moment, the rotten vegetative scent of the branch flooding his senses as the bass flopped upon his chest, gasping for air.
"Well, that's one way to do it." Declan said with a sigh and a smirk, his head lifted, the branch slid from his head to hit upon the ground. "What? No!" he groaned as the branch knocked over his Killian's bottle, spilling its contents to the soil. He thumped the fish upon the gills as he grumbled. "You owe me a beer."
Looking over to Owen, he chuckled slightly and offered a shrug. "...and that's how we do it back home. Fun, yeah?"
He sat there with his hook, line, and sinker. Expecting to find something biting any moment he wondered if New Orleans had one of those lazy fishies that was smart enough to hide in the seaweed bed underneath the water without either knowing it. Owen was a fishing master! So how come this particular area was any different. Patience my good man, patience! Did Declan say anything just a second ago? Oh, the part where he mentioned being a mediator. "That's awesome. People come to me too. "Now, there was the part when he mentioned that he was also a fortuneteller. His nose twitched like Samantha Stephens on Bewitched. Madam imitation came past his lips at Declan as if trying to be funny as hell. "I see into your future."Almost perfect, but his deep baritone would never have past for being in line to holding onto crystal balls or rummaging around deck of cards. Most clinged to that fate stuff, he was the type to choose his own path without someone explaining it to him. The day of your death or when you will find love right around the corner.
He's got goals he needs to meet, it's too soon to give most of that up so he knows better to act in accord to what you're doing. Owen wanted his karma to be on a high scale not low. "That's interesting. I pretty much help teenagers than I do adults."Cause he's been in their shoes so many times when he was a teenage boy back then. Fine, delicate, nice hair, colgate smile, it was the years of teen spirit. Did he do what most teens did when he was going to school? Oh yeah. Girls in the halls became a practice speech, he did score on some but failed on others. He even made bets with some guys he once considered as friends, they turned out to be a douchbag later. Shaking his head, he soon met with a splash of lake water on his hair and most of his clothes during Declan's catch of the day!
A bass sat on his chest, he lost his beer in the bushes and noticed a reaction the minute it was lost. Definitely an Irishman from the looks of it, he's picked upon his accent so assumed he maybe from Ireland? You owe me a beer he heard the man say. He gotten a little scared for a second there when that same branch smacked him on the forehead, then watched as he thumped the poor guy on the gills. "He only wanted to give you three wishes for capturing him Declan." He said jokingly. Owen's definitely seen enough movies hasn't he? That really would be a sight to see. A fish genie! That's how we doing it back home he says, he smirked. "Where I come from Declan, this is done on most weekends."Home is always where the heart is aye? Absense makes the heart grow yonder and vice versa thereof. Returning to his position near where Declan sat, he watched as his own line gave a tug. Now this ought to be interesting.
