Post by Jaxon Samuels on Aug 16, 2013 6:22:30 GMT
When he was ten, he used a book as a little box. When he was thirteen, he threw waterbombs in the library and was sent home with a hefty check for his mother. When he was eighteen, he thought of everything else by books and wouldn't be caught dead in a library. Now at 25, he was really really confused on why the hell he was walking into a bookstore. I mean, kudos for books! Seems like a lot of people write them and even more read them, which is cool. At least we know that technology hasn't completely killed the effect of printed paper, but for Jaxon the whole sitting in and reading a good novel was a 'Hell No' for him. The closest he got to literature was dirty magazines or a copy of 'Men's Health'. Facebook was the only book for him really. But when one of his charges ends up being a hybrid between a witch and an elemental, there is a limit to how much you can google before you become so lost. And he had absolutely no idea what an elemental was So here he was, in a white tank and jeans as he mozzied on in to the last place you would ever find this cat. The things he does for his charges!
Walking in, he went to the first row. Since libraries were usually an excuse to catch a couple of hours sleep before fifth period, indexing and library systems were very very foreign to him. He saw history books, technogoical history books, the history of food? What the hell was he doing? He had two options; ask for help and get the book or take it as a failed attempt at actually doing something and head home to go out. Now that, that sounded awesome. Turning, Jaxon started towards the door again. No wonder books weren't his thing. "Screw this". Endless hours on google it was! But when he touched the door handle, he stopped. He stopped right in his tracks because this guy had to learn something; you aren't the only supernatural guy in this world, and what he was smelling was proof of that.
He turned his head slightly, his eyes shifting to a glowing green as his pupils centralized themselves. A long draw on the air around him through his nose and he could tell. This place either doubled as a dog pound, or there was something here that he really wouldn't like to meet. A werewolf. He had met a few, since when its a full moon he occassionally suspected they were lose canines other then morphed fiends. He really didn't know what to think of them because A, he was still on the boarder line of the cat vs dog stereotype and B, he had slept with one before and let's just say they could never make someone howl. But while he focused on the smell, he heard a footstep from out back and spun around, his eyes reverting to normal and leaving him basically standing there looking like the biggest paranoid tosser in the world. Good going Garfield!