hngrylikethewoolf
on the prowl.
errol a. woolf. 47. sherrif of wiltshire county. formerly of nottingham.
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@perry-flynn
The Jesus! and the grumbling makes a chuckle escape but then he steps into the office, closing and locking the door behind him, and shrugs out of his jacket. Perry goes into the kitchen and Errol looks about, pleased to note that they were alone.
While he didn't mind cleaning himself up after a fight, this was a bit of a precarious situation, one that Perry probably shouldn't be around for.
So, when Perry returns with antiseptic wipes, reaches for him, Errol side steps him neatly, shaking his head.
"Nope, ye cannae touch it," he says, eyes firm on Perry's face. "Ain't riskin' gettin' ye infected too. An' I went tah see some mates, from me unit. Well...t' last ones from it, anyway. Some moron started a fight."
worse for wear || perol
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@busterstrouble
The tension drains from the other wolf and so, too, does it slough off Errol's shoulders. Even though his stance remains the same - old habits, and all - there's an ease to it now that was not there before. It feels a bit like shooting the shit with men in his unit, how people interacted that way. "Oh, fuck off, it wasna purposeful," he says, rolling his eyes. "In me defense, it was either bein' turned or dyin' so - I chose."
He didn't really share that, actually. No one really knew in town, not even Jessica or Perry, about the particulars of his being bitten. He preferred to keep it that way.
Besides, he knows he hits a nerve with the comment about the pack. Doesn't need to say anything else, just needs to watch Buster's eyes slant off, his body curling in on itself. He remembers that pain all too well. "It gets...easier, is 's any 'elp to ye. Takes a while though." Errol smiles thinly at him, then amends, "not pack but may as well've been. Me unit, only...four of us're left."
Well, not even that now, if he had to guess. Maybe three.
Moving to the side, Errol nods toward the treeline, hoping to get them moving so they can cut their conversation short and run. Or, well, at the very least get away from their vehicles. A laugh escapes at the summation of the rest of the wolves in town, and Errol shakes his head.
"Aye? Well, I wouldna be surprised, truth be told. I keep tah meself 'cause o' me job an'...ah, well - 'at's 'at." He had his own beliefs about the rest of the wolves, particularly those that were out. They weren't bad, but Errol didn't truly trust that he wouldn't be outed solely because of his position in town. "Truth of it is, 've been tryin' tah leave it. Paperwork's a bitch an' a half, though."
the good, the bad, & the handsome | Errol & Buster
#ch: buster#p: the good the bad & the handsome#r: double trouble#//ngl I simultaneously wanna hug him & smack him
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@notbad-justsungthatway
A snort, followed by a chuckle, escapes at her words. "Too right," he agrees, toasting her with his glass.
Though he'd not grown up here or really been here that long, the perspective Errol had now about this town was different from the one he'd come here with, especially after his turning. He was now a part of the Magick community, for as little as people knew of it, and it meant he could see both sides of the situation.
"Middle o' t' summer, at t' latest," he says, "been workin' 'ard at it. Jus' got a bit more tah go, find a suitable replacement fer t' county office 'till they can find someone."
Dinner Dates || Jess & Errol
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@busterstrouble
The smile to stone makes Errol raise a brow but he doesn't waiver, nor does his body language change. Even this close, the wolf nearly clawing at his chest to get out and see who this stranger was, Errol didn't flinch. Then, a slow smirk scrawls across his mouth, amused at the use of air quotes and what was perceived to be the 'right way.'
He had no bloody idea what the right way was. Not for this. He'd kept away from the wolves in town, had no desire to meet them nor to become involved in any of the politicking that some of them were keen on.
Errol just wanted to finish up his final paperwork and cut out with grace, with no one the wiser. It'd be for the better.
"Ye coulda done better," he remarks, voice neutral. "Smelled ye soon as ye started comin' 'round." He isn't bothered by the remark about his name; in fact, he snorts and shrugs a shoulder, the line of them falling ever-so-slightly, metaphorical hackles doing the same. "Me last name's Woolf. At this point 's givin' me a good laugh."
The Irishman continues listening, though his gaze falls away to the treeline, searching it, a habit. He always watched everything around him; not paranoia, but a nearly inbred instinct to make sure there was nothing that could harm him, the people around him, burrowed beneath his skin. A nod accompanies the comment - it wasn't hard to figure what the other man was - but his gaze snaps back, sharp, to Buster's face at the mention of the 'unfortunate circumstances' that had made him pack-less.
It makes Errol narrow his eyes, thinking. He recognized the accent, it was Londoner through and through and more's the pity for it, but there was also a roughness to him that spoke of a harsh life. If his pack had been in London --
Realization hits a moment later and Errol grimaces and he jerks his head in a nod. "Ah, 'ey were yers, 'm sorry." And he was. And he meant it. He'd been called to the aftermath to offer extra support and it'd left a bad taste in his mouth for days after. It was no surprise the man was pack-less, now, even if Errol had tried to wipe away the stench ( and the memory ) of dead wolf scent from his nose in a way that he'd never quite forget.
"I can see why, yeah. If's all t' same - an' take it fer...curiosity's sake, if yer willin' - 'ere's more 'en enough wolves in town. Jus' ain't keen on 'em meself, but why didja nah ask one o' 'em?"
the good, the bad, & the handsome | Errol & Buster
#ch: buster#p: the good the bad & the handsome#r: double trouble#//ngl I am SO hype for them; Errol wouldn't stop poking until I replied
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@perry-flynn
Errol hadn't been out into London, really, since he'd been bit. Since his birthday, that year. 'Course he'd popped in from time to time for small things he had to handle at the London offices, smaller crimes and transport.
This time, though, he'd just been meant to pass through, on the way to meet a handful of the only blokes left from Errol's unit that hadn't been killed.
Needless to say it'd all gone to shite, as he'd expected it to do. And all because some drunk arsehole started the fight.
Errol had been particularly vindicated when they'd broken it up and he hadn't been worse off than some of his mates, but he refused treatment at the scene - for less obvious, canine reasons than the men believed - and took himself back to Swynlake with a butterfly bandage he'd done up across his right eyebrow and a beautifully purplish bruise across his jaw.
There were probably more beneath the bits and bobs of his old uniform, too, but Errol hadn't taken it off to look. He was already late enough as it was, getting back, and getting to the office to help Perry with something he'd rung him up about.
Taking the steps two at a time, Errol raps on the door with the side of his fist before rocking back on his heels, grinning wide when Perry opens the door.
"Miss me? Can ye go get t' kit so I can clean up 'fore we get started."
worse for wear || perol
#ch: perry#p: worse for wear#r: law & order#//I am so sorry you have to deal with him Perry#injury mention tw#fighting tw
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worse for wear || perol
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@busterstrouble
Being in the military as long as he had and then working as a police officer Errol had learned long ago that if your gut told you something was going on, it usually was. Add to that the wolf knowing there was something, too, and the Irishman knows that's something he should be paying attention to.
Smelling a wolf in Swynlake was like dropping a bloody needle in a stack of needles. There are a lot of them, is what he means, but this one was new, smelled different, and they'd been hanging around the department.
Well, at least enough that Errol had noticed on his commute to and from work. He'd noticed, too, when he'd gone to the sparring gym for his defense classes with Jess and, really, the gym at all ( but that wasn't surprising ).
He didn't quite know what to make of it, and would probably have continued to play keep away, mind his own damned business, except the next time he goes out to the edge of the woods, there's someone waiting.
Immediately, Errol pauses, head tilting to look the man up and down, to assess him for threats and, quite frankly, if he's about to be outed. If Errol had to take, ah, drastic measures to keep that from happening. But this guy, he comes forward all smiles and extended hand. Errol looks at him with an arched brow, arms at his sides and shoulders arrow straight.
Still considering, still assessing.
He smells familiar, though, and he smells new, and his chest aches with the way the wolf shifts within, wanting a closer look.
The Irishman huffs and shakes himself, almost like he's pulling himself out of his head ir shaking off water, and smirks. "Please tell me 'at ain't actu'ly yer name," he says, good humor ( for now ) in his face. "'Cause 'en 'm gonna feel bad. Also, ye should know if yah wanna talk tah someone, ye can jus' come see 'em. None o' 'at stake out shite."
Staking out the sheriff, learning his habits - which he'd done, no doubt, if he knew Errol would be here today - meant the sheriff needed to shift his schedule around, or at least that's what his vague paranoia said.
Finally, he takes the man's hand in his own. It's a firm shake, perfunctory and to the point, and there's a little of a challenge in it, a test.
"Call me Errol, I s'pose. What's t' problem?"
the good, the bad, & the handsome | Errol & Buster
#ch: buster#p: the good the bad & the handsome#r: double trouble#//the way that errol is simultaneously 🤔 and 😠 is making me laugh so hard
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@notbad-justsungthatway
Jessica nods, and that's that. No fuss, and there wouldn't be. Errol didn't expect that to fix everything, especially not after leading the life she had - one he'd only gleaned information from from Jess herself, as he refused to look up his friends.
"Eh, paperwork's nearly there. 'S t' extraction 'at's hardest. Always gotta drag ye in wif somefin'." That's what'd happened a while back, with the Prince, then later on when he'd tried again with more Magicks targeted, people in town and in the county in general.
But, he doesn't get into all of that. He doesn't need to. This wasn't a work discussion, just a friendly one.
Thanking her once she came back with the plates, Errol quirks a brow at her, nodding for her to ask her questions or continue whatever she wanted to continue.
Might as well, after all.
Dinner Dates || Jess & Errol
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*timeline restored*
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@rezares
Errol had thought he'd seen most everything these days that Swynlake could offer. There was little that could phase him.
Havinf a man holding an Actual Dagger in his hand, in broad daylight, and pointing it toward someone? Well, you know, that just kinda didn't phase him anymore. Especially not when it had this pungent scent to it, something sharp and crisp, something that stuck to the back of your throat.
It felt, taste, almost like magic.
It clicks in his brain that this is a Sorcerer a few moments later, and lucky for the man it had.
When Errol finally turns toward him, he just feels bone weary, and a sigh escapes as he runs a hand down his face before gesturing to the knife. "I gotta take it, or are yah gonna put it away? 'Cause it looks like yer gonna gut someone."
It's Not What It Looks Like || Open
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@perry-flynn
A snort escapes at the other man's comment about the cat. He could only imagine how finicky the beast was. The girls were both the same, though Errol sometimes fed them.better than he'd fed himself, in year's past.
"Nooo," he says, accent drawing out the word. He takes the box back and deftly twists it one way, then the other, and the lid springs open. "False edge. Springs right open, an' when yah look at t' edge, yah can pop t' top again."
He does so, revealing the gift beneath: a small, handmade GPS blocker.
blue moon || law & order
#ch: perry#p: blue moon#r: law & order#//mobile replies#//apologies this took a bit! Figure we can wrap both of these soon and start fresh?
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@notbad-justsungthatway
"Oh, never thought it was, Jessie. Dunna worry," he assures her, giving a bit of a chuckle at the light dusting of red in her cheeks. "'M used tah it these days, eh? Some people...need tah do fings tah survive, more 'en most."
And it wasn't something to be shamed for, or to be harmed for. Errol had believed that for many years. He'd grown up around it, in the neighborhood, after all. People got on how they must.
"Aye, I agree. Jus' been a hell o' a time tah get all t' paper done."
Dinner Dates || Jess & Errol
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@angel-milano
The lass grimaces and Errol can't help the snort that escapes, the shrug of his shoulder. It's easier than getting caught, unless he goes deep into the forest.
She says it sucks and he agrees, quietly, with a hum. He was thinking of letting her go, didn't really want to be giving tickets out anyway, but he can hear someone coming. So, Errol sighs, pulls a pad out, scribbles something on it and ands it to her.
"Sorry lassie," he says, and means it, "next time jus' go 'round t' next corner, eh?"
Full Moon Tax || Errol&Angel
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is it not a shame my native tongue is not mine?
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Character Name: Errol Woolf
Title/occupation: Captain in the British Army
Magick Status: Werewolf (Hidden)
Biography:
Errol Woolf wasn't necessarily born into wealth, and he hasn't come into it, either, but he was born scrappy and with a hunger to protect his family, and that was what he was good at. He affects an air of cocky superiority to hide the fear he has for his mother and the woman he calls his sister, to hide the love he has that others may exploit. But he does what he does best and pushes forward and uses that momentum to carry himself into the Royal Army.
Despite his dislike for the service and the way he pushes back against the rules that confine him there, Errol is a good soldier. Eventually, he makes and maintains the rank of captain for a unit of Her Majesty's cavalry. He earns a decent wage. He is content to send back what he garners to his family.
It is while in service to the Crown, on campaign, that an…unfortunate accident befalls him. Suddenly, Errol is no longer a man, but a beast. A werewolf. The only reason he's not forced from the cavalry service in disgrace is a handful of sympathetic comrades, ones whom Errol had marched side-by-side with for decades.
Now, he is back in Swnylake, ostensibly on leave, intrigued at what this Season will hold.
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@foreverydinger
Errol's dry look and the roll of his eyes, a huff of laughter, is all it takes. He's joining thr lad a second later, scrubbing his hands and up to his elbows for good measure, like a doctor. After fighting in the bloody deserts all the time, one could never quite remove the notion that one was always gritty, dirty.
"It can be," he says eventually, once he's dried his hands and pulled on a pair of gloves. "But this 'S an old case, 'bout a decade or so. Cannae have ye contaminatin' anyfin'," he explains, "hence - precautions. Technically, I should prob'ly be doin' this in a lab."
Manuevering around to the side of the table, Errol tilts his head to the side and gives the lad a little grin. "Try bein' O-, Tony."
Tomorrow Tomorrow || Terrol || Wrimo
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@foreverydinger
Tony ignores him, and Errol almost expects it. He's known the lad long enough now, lived here long enough when he never thought he would, that the man just shakes his head, and the wolf stops bristling beneath his skin.
Besides, maybe he'd learn a thing or two here.
Errol closes and locks the door again as Tony wanders into his flat, pulling a chair up to the table he'd set the testing machinery.
"Well, fer starters ye can wash an' put on some fuckin' gloves," he grouses, pushing a hand through his hair. "Normally ye'd be sterilized before testin' like this. What's yer blood type?" He had to know, in case there was cross-contamination, to rule out Tony.
Tomorrow Tomorrow || Terrol || Wrimo
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