Casey's Bedroom

[Casey]

Some days were just destined to be set aside for this purpose. It was as simple as that.

Open bag of chips to one side, and half-empty soda to the other, Casey's hands tapped at the keys of his laptop while his eyes stared intently at the screen. The pixelated gun flared madly as he blasted away at his enemies, causing a slightly manic grin to spread over his youthful features.

"Ahh, that's it. C'mon, suckers... come and get a piece of m- oh, you want some of this? Huh?" Wheeling his character around, he gunned down the new enemy, fairly cackling to himself as he did so... before he was hit from another angle.

"Fucking snipers," he grumbled to himself, scoping out the area with one hand, while digging into the bag of chips with the other. He found the digital fiend as he popped the snack into his mouth, and promptly proceeded to shoot him right out of his perch.

"Gotcha..."

[Casey]

The best way for someone like Casey to spend the full moon was… actually how he spent most of his time anyway. In front of a computer, blasting something made up of pixels to pieces with an equally digitised firearm. He sat in front of his portable TV in his bedroom, his face illuminated by the light from the screen as his fingers flickered over the buttons on the control pad, sending his character here and there, and pulling the trigger of the machine gun it held.

He was quiet, for once. Normally, when playing such a game, he shouted at the screen, and cheered at his own triumphs and death count, but not tonight. Tonight, as the moon rose towards the heavens, he simply stared at the screen, and concentrated. Concentrating on the game took his mind off the past, and the lunar cycle, and for the most part, kept him calm, and sated.

For the most part…

Casey grinned rather maniacally when a shower of bullets from his high-powered gun caused a red spray to decorate the wall on the screen, and though his eyes didn’t change colour completely, there was a definite glimmer of something lupine there.

[Casey]

After spending the entire night giving in to any homicidal urges on his computer game, Casey was in dire need of two things. Food, and caffeine. He hadn’t really paused the game long enough to indulge in either, during the night, so he was more than determined to get both. But while Casey was cranky without a full stomach, he wasn’t selfish, so after pulling himself up from the floor and running his fingers through tousled dark curls, he headed for the door, intending to stop by another young male’s room and see if he could get some company in the kitchen.


Continued at: Drake’s Bedroom.

[Casey]

POST TIMESKIP.


The growing tension and unrest within the pack was bound to affect any wolf who had originally sought out stability and companionship, a wolf just like Casey Adams. As the days had gone by, each one bleeding uncomfortably into the next with people walking around disquieted and anxious, he had become increasingly irritable with his surroundings until he had realised he needed to distance himself from a good deal of the others. More often than not Casey's temper was manageable so long as he was kept away from humans, his one real trigger, but the conscious and intentional ignorance of the Alphas and Betas, the way they isolated themselves and shunned those they should guide and protect and maintain, had frayed him at the edges, made him feel that little bit more raw and susceptible to provocation. If it hadn't been for Lee and Regina and their quick intervention, Casey knew he would have done more than make a move towards Fox just a few days previous, he could very well have done damage, not just to the other male but to his own reputation and his own standing within the pack.

Casey had had enough of the pack the way it was, so tangled and confused and uncoordinated but he was too young and unpredictable and therefore unreliable to make any kind of change. He had kept his mouth shut like any of the younger wolves who knew what was good for them; just because Rayne, Dante, Zo and Nia were barely seen, that didn't mean word wouldn't travel. Casey, for one, knew he wouldn't last five minutes against any one of them. So he kept quiet, tried not to let it get to him. Much easier said than done, though, and a wolf couldn't only take so much.

The knife stopped spinning in his hand with a snap of metal against skin as the blade landed flat against his palm, the young fighter sitting bolt upright on his bed, finely-tuned senses reaching out to their limits to take it all in, the shouting and the shattering of glass, the pungent smell of smoke. He was up and in motion quickly enough, blades in their usual places, Casey moving on autopilot to sheath and settle them where they belonged, jacket grabbed up on a whim and pulled over the top of the t-shirt he wore even as one hand reached for the door to take him out of his room and into whatever was happening beyond.


CONTINUED IN: Hallways.