fly the river to the one i love — meet and greet

[arcy]

[div style="margin: 0 auto; width: 65%; font-family: timesnewroman; font-size: 10pt; text-align: justify;"]Dean isn't sure how he got roped into actually getting involved in this place. He'd run into the place a few weeks ago, see. On a hunt for a vampire. Just like his dad would've wanted. But there was a clan being founded here, in this little sea town, and one thing lead to another and Dean .. certainly didn't have said vampire killed. He doesn't even remember its goddamn name. And then he's here, playing happy family with this shitty little group that Dean has somehow gotten just attached enough to to stick around. But, well, it was hard not to when you were just a little involved at the place's very roots, and so here he was, lazily watching the stuttering feline. Dean doesn't know how the fuck this guy became leader. He didn't have any authority, and he stuttered too much. But, unlike Quantum. Dean could respect the guy. Not only for somehow pulling this ragtag bunch together, but just from the sole fact he was leader. Dean would listen to his directions, even if they were shitty. He could try and keep on the slack, too. Keep the guy from getting overruled or some shit. Seriously, though, how did these places fucking work? He'd interacted with other clans, of course. Dove in head-first with his dad to take out some poor sucker, and then skadaddled before the repercussions sucker punched them. Never long enough to know how these places worked. Promotions and hierarchies, how were they decided? Who knew, not Dean. Except for the fact he did. Because he was there early.
"I'm Dean. Dean Aeris-Winchester," The canine explains with a casual movement of the paws. His eyes are slightly shut, but just slit open enough to cautiously watch the rest of his clanmates. Wary, but friendly enough. He wonders if anybody here would recognize Winchester. It was pretty common in the hunting community, after all. Except that the hunting community generally stayed far, far away from the clans. They'd been the only ones to ever dare make an attempt. "Warfare. I, uh. Don't really know how this clan thing works. I really like pie," Dean didn't have a lot of other-people friendly facts. Pie was simple, but he was content with that. Dean hadn't ever learned how to bake before, though. A disappointment, really. He got his die from people he encountered or stole from. Because Dean, of course, had never gotten or made his own things in his life. He just .. stole them. That's all he knew. Maybe one day he'd grow out of that, though. One day when it wasn't necessary. Maybe if he stayed here long enough, though .. who knows.

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