Kell
I've been calling myself cursed since I was old enough to notice. Strange things happen when I lose my temper - things I can't explain and have learned not to talk about. Foster kid, no roots, no pack. I got good at keeping a low profile.
Then three men cornered me in a Boston alley and tried to set me on fire, and keeping a low profile stopped being an option.
Johnny
I've been in America long enough to know I don't belong here. Too wolf for the witches, too witch for the wolves. I stopped letting that bother me a long time ago.
I hadn't planned on caring about anyone. Then I caught a stranger's scent in the crowd, and when I found him he was already running. Werewolves, witches, and the Vigil all want him dead, and none of them are known for giving up.
I recognized the exhaustion in him. The kind that comes from always having to move and never being able to rest. I know that feeling better than most.
I told myself I was just keeping him alive. I'm still telling myself that.