A girl that looked to be around fourteen with bright red hair and dark blue eyes was walking the streets of the city. She had a dark blue hoodie on and the hood was up, partially covering her hair. It didn't cover all of it though, and strands of the hair hung in her face. Abnormally long canine teeth chewed on her bottom lip, gnawing in it nervously as she now stumbled through the streets. She was back, and aimed to make the best of it. "The best of it" could be was in the eye of the beholder, however as the saying went. She was clearly on drugs. Her drug of choice for the night was methamphetamine. It was dangerous, but she was in love with it. Addicted, really. Her eyes were wide open, taking in everything. She was wired.
She heard somebody yell 'hey!', and looked around. Yes, there they were, in the car. "Hey what?" She shoved her hands in the pockets of her jeans, one boot scuffing at the sidewalk. "Whaddya want? I'm not a prostitute." What was this girl doing out here this late? Did she even know what time it was? Well, the girl didn't even know what time it was herself. She didn't carry a watch, didn't own a phone. "Whaddya want?" she asked again impatiently, though she didn't really have anywhere to go. She lived on these streets.
A grin spread across her face as the girl spoke up and mentioned a name. "Oh, yeah. Ty. You said your dad was Ty. That was a long time ago. I saw him years ago. I must have been four or five the last time I saw him. I still remember it. I was in his bar, and he was drinking. Some guy had turned me into a werewolf, and Ty was mad because some baby had died." She frowned. "The name started with an A." She ran a hand through her hair, forgetting the hood was on her head. "Oops. Anyway. Yeh, he kinda adopted me. I was a street kid way back then. Still am." She laughed. "Where is he?" Then realized she probably sounded stupid talking about werewolves out here at almost one in the morning. "Yeah...werewolves."
“M'name's Bey, like the horse color but spelled different. Or that's what they call me. Has something to do with what they name those fancy horses, the Arabians." She knew very little about horses, but she had watched horse shows on television. She studied the girl. "You said your name was Katya?" She shook her head. "He said something about some mute little kid that wouldn't talk, and a little girl, they were twins. That's all I remember." The hand was run through her hair again. It was a nervous habit. "I ain't got anywhere to go."
She rose a brow at hearing the news from the girl that Tyrone was now dead. Her friend...Oh well. Things happened, didn't they? "I told him way back then that drinking was bad. He shoulda listened." She shook her head. "It probably got him in trouble or somethin', didn't it? I ain't surprised." She was mauling the English language and didn't seem to notice. "So you got you, the mute kid, and the girl...Kyrie. I remember now. Anybody else?"
