FINN DE LA SALLE
Phoenix
Posts: 264
Age:
651
Occupation:
French Teacher/Mercenary
Status:
Widowed
Played by:
ANGE
Last seen Apr 12, 2024 18:10:47 GMT
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Post by FINN DE LA SALLE on Mar 31, 2019 17:10:41 GMT
Shrugging off the itch between his shoulder blades Finn packed the last of the homework assignments his tenth grade class had turned in that afternoon into his bag. He’d been left in charge of detention tonight, a task he was fairly sure the other teachers saw as a form of punishment against them rather than against the students. Finn didn’t mind it so much though, it was no worse than watching over those going into their first battle – the restlessness, the quiet chatter, the occasional confusion about why they were really there. At least the students he had held behind in the library that night didn’t have death hovering outside the doors of the school, just waiting for them to leave on the wrong footing. That wasn’t to say that death wasn’t a frequent visitor to Mystic Falls, the bodies regularly found out in the woods and the sheer number of missing people said that he was most certainly looming here like a particularly foul dark cloud, but for the most part the school seemed to be a safe place. Given the number of supernatural students hiding amongst the wholly human here, that wasn’t entirely a surprise.
Finn stood, shrugging on his jacket before he slung the strap of his bag over his shoulder. There were very few in Mystic Falls who realised that the teachers were just as ‘abnormal’ as the students. Warlocks and phoenixes didn’t exactly wear scarlet S’s on their foreheads, branding themselves as something inhuman. Neither had to draw attention to themselves unless they wanted to and Finn certainly wasn’t looking to out himself in Mystic Falls. Phoenixes were even more fantastical than werewolves and vampires, relegated to fairy tales, not even making it up on the big screen unless you counted the bird in the Harry Potter movies and the truth was certainly stranger than that. Fire he had, the ability to regenerate he had, but feathers … you could forget those. Finn walked along the hallway, fingers running restlessly over the strap of his back, a few inches of which was edged with charred leather. He didn’t like to fall back on his ability to burn, especially not after he’d seen Jordan Parrish on fire, possessed by a hellhound. They still had no clue what the beast was doing inside of him or how it had come to be there. Faced with a mystery like that he preferred to fall back on his sword … if he had it on him.
That had been the curse last week, the reason he’d found himself on the edge of the very parking lot he was heading out the door and into now. The blade had been in his car, out of reach when the snarl had gone up from behind the row of parked cars. He could’ve run for it, could’ve perhaps unlocked the car before the beast had been upon him but there was no way he could have gotten a hand to the sword before those claws had raked across his throat. Never one to run from a fight Finn had turned to see the blue eyes flash at him around the rear of the janitor’s car. Claws had shrieked their way across its bumper, a warning perhaps. Just a moment later the werewolf had torn across the ground at him, careening into him, ripping with claws in a way that should’ve punctured his guts and ripped out enough of the greater vessels that it would’ve taken only moments for him to bleed out. His own hands had scrabbled at the furred throat, fingertips gaining purchase just under the jaw, there’d been a thud of its racing pulse against his fingertips for a moment before the heat had begun to build. The beast gasped, pulling away from his grip, only succeeding when the heat grew so great that the flesh his fingers had gripped only a moment ago had crumbled away. Falling to his knees, hearing his own blood splatter to the ground, Finn had seen the beast run for the woods. If it had gotten there, he didn’t know, he’d staggered away to his own car, leaving a trail of his blood behind.
There wasn’t a single report of a burned body being found, that meant either the werewolf was still out there somewhere or it had people cleaning up after it. It was the latter that likely had him cautious as he picked his way across the lot now. The shadows were already thick, the evening breeze stirring the air undoubtedly what had his hackles rising. Finn had the car keys in his hand, was halfway there when the growl went up again. This time he didn’t wait for the beast to charge, he went in at a run. He could heal, like he had the last time, but the werewolf wouldn’t this time. Sliding across the hood of the same janitor’s car, Finn threw himself at the animal. Fingers found its throat again, dark brows drawing together as he hunched over the animal, looking for some sign of the damage he’d done before. Nothing, surely there should be something. ”Where is it?” he asked, letting his hand warm slightly in a warning to the creature he held down. ”I knew it couldn’t have been alone.” Usually his fire killed, not stopping its burn once his hand was removed. From what he had heard afterwards, Brigid’s father had been little more than ash when someone had finally found him. There was another sound amongst the cars, a scrape of a boot, the harsh whisper of breath perhaps. Finn grinned faintly, looking up towards it. ”So you came after all. Step out, come on, into the light where I can see you…” If the beast had survived and was hoping for a little payback. It really would be sadly mistaken. Phoenixes weren’t that easy to kill.
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SAM WINCHESTER
Hunter
Special Child
Posts: 335
Played by:
Sarah
It doesn’t matter what you are. It only matters what you do. It’s your choice
Last seen Apr 28, 2024 12:32:57 GMT
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Post by SAM WINCHESTER on May 29, 2019 21:36:47 GMT
Sam Winchester:
Sam had heard of a few deaths being burnt to a crisp. There were only a few things that could do that and they wern't exactly easy to kill or even common. Sam just hoped that with every other type of creature gathering in the town that the harder more dangerous ones were here. There were enough of them already to deal with. Sam had followed the leads to a couple of people who had been around at the times of deaths and one happened to be a teacher at the school. It did only seem fitting that some of the adults were supernatural too. Was there a better cover than a teacher in a school? Sam had used the disguise before and Dean had suggested using it again. It wouldn’t be the first time and it wouldn’t be the last that a school needed a job filling and a creature removed at the same time. Plus, it added a little cash into a hunters pockets that were always empty. Motels, food, gas, ID badges, clothes to pull of a job, it all added up it wasn’t as if hunting paid for the things needed for it let alone other bills. The hunter had refused to go into the school. Ben was there which was a good enough reason not to go in. Sam believed that his nephew would let them know if anything unsettling happened. Yet Dean still wanted to go in. Maybe there was a selfless reason behind Dean wanting to go in after all. Sam had always assumed it was to keep an eye on Ben, embarrass him or even teach him some of the tricks he had used himself. Sam kept tabs on the teachers of the school and he was surprised with what secrets they were hiding. Man, teachers could be incredibly creepy off the clock. That would be a perfect paying disguise, you’d get to hear all the tales of the town, all the urban legends and pick out which might actually be true whilst going under the radar yourself. Sam would look into getting a job the next time one of the missing persons happened to open a spot up. The last teacher he had to look at was Finn De La Salle. Sam had been watching him for awhile and nothing seemed to come up. He was too squeaky clean, as if he was trying to stay out of the limelight. Until, one night when the Winchester was watching him he saw the guy slide across the car bonnet and burn the wolf to dust. That would explain the reason he seemed too clean, he was in fact a phoenix. Sam had seen the destructive power of their kind once before. He had seen Dean kill one in the past and of course it was the colt. They had needed the ash back then to stop the mother of all monsters but the monster before him was so rare that they had to travel in time to find one. The hunter knew how hard it was to kill one and it was always best to be out of arms reach because they were deadly as it showed in front of him. He seemed to kill the wolf for no reason. Sam managed to get the colt from Dean as he slept one night. It wasn’t as easy as it sounded. That was the first hurdle passed. Now for phase two. Sam took the colt back to the school and waited for the monster to reappear. This was one of the monsters that he didn’t know what was lore and what was real. It wasn’t as if there was a lot of research into them as most thought they were either extinct or stories. He was sure of one thing, the colt worked. Sam pulled the colt out of his back pocket and aimed it at the male’s head. “Stop right there. Hands in the air. I know what you are and what you’ve done.”
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FINN DE LA SALLE
Phoenix
Posts: 264
Age:
651
Occupation:
French Teacher/Mercenary
Status:
Widowed
Played by:
ANGE
Last seen Apr 12, 2024 18:10:47 GMT
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Post by FINN DE LA SALLE on Jun 14, 2019 18:20:46 GMT
Each time he had to dip within that burning well inside of himself it had been with loathing. Well, bar twice. Both the Duke and Bridget’s father had deserved exactly what they’d gotten. Each had proven a danger, taking from him the very things that had meant the most. Finn knew that on the surface it would look like he’d acted out of pure anger and hatred and perhaps there had been an element of both in his actions but deep down he knew it was more than that. How many more of the crofters on his land would have been sent to their deaths by the man when it was agonizingly obvious that the rebellion was a lost cause. They had enough against them as it was without earmarking every single one of them a traitor to the English eyes that would soon be upon them. The clearances of the highlands had been swift in the years after he’d left, so many sent to the new world in punishment, so many heading there themselves to try and scrabble together a better life. Some had failed, enough had obviously succeeded to create little Scottish enclaves across the continent. Maybe some still told the story of how the laird had died in the conflagration that had burned his home to the ground.
Maybe the wolf he’d dealt with last week when he’d been attacked out here in the parking lot was telling the same tale. Whispering to his little pack of friends about the inhuman thing they had to kill. There had been the chance that it had been killed by the heat he’d pumped into it but he’d learned a long time ago that werewolves were hardy creatures, healing with an almost unimaginable speed. Finn hadn’t gone up against enough of them in that way to know exactly whose strength would win out. That was why his hackles had risen as he’d left the school tonight and felt that primitive part of his mind sit up and pay attention to the oddness he could feel out there in the dark. After six hundred years he’d learned to listen to that part of him and he’d learned that as much as he hated to use the fire that constantly burned inside of him sometimes it was necessary and this was perhaps one of those times again. When he’d looked down at the smoke rising from the ashes and lament the fact that had it been him, he would’ve risen again. Living up to his name as a phoenix.
Grinning at the wolf as he’d held it down this time, Finn wondered whether the wolf he’d burned was the one hovering on the edges of the parking lot now. He shifted, grinding a knee into the wolf’s neck so he could crane upwards and spot the beast. It wasn’t the wolf staring back at him when he finally met the thing’s eye now. It was a human, a long barreled gun aimed in his direction, the barrel of it squarely pointed at its brow. Finn raised his hands, his palm cooling back to normal human temperatures as he stared at the man. ”You’re going to have to be a little more specific,” he warned, grinding down harder against the wolf’s throat as it struggled to get free. The blue eyes were burning up at him out of the corner of his eye, filled with hatred. ”If you’re talking about what happened last week then you’ll know there was justification.” Just as there was now. The werewolf struggled again, the blue tint slowly filtering into its pallor not doing anything to slow down those claws.
Reaching up the creature slashed, drawing a roar from him as the claws raked across his hip. Finn tried to stay put, jamming a hand down at the creature’s face but the wolf was already bucking, throwing him off as blood began to soak through his pants. He could already feel the wound healing but it was slow enough that the blood began to pool around his knee even as he rolled to get himself upright. ”Not me…” Finn growled at the hunter through gritted teeth. ”It was self-defense, then and now. Whatever you’re planning to do to me forget it and deal with the real threat here.” He didn’t bother clamping a hand to the wound, keeping them in sight as he tried to back up a few steps in the direction the wolf had taken off in. Loathsome about what he was he might’ve been but he wasn’t stupid, bullet wounds weren’t fun no matter how well you were able to heal from them.
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