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 Vandal, raph | open
Talia Peterson
 Posted: Jun 10 2018, 09:50 AM


Age / 25 | Height / 5'6" / 1.7m

Pronouns / She/Her/Hers

Blood Type / Unknown

Hometown / Lummi Nation (WA)

In Need Of / Friends

Post Count/ 40

"Jane Doe" | She/Her/Hers

It was early in the day, still, but Talia had asked if she could come in before the office opened so that she could get some extra work in on her story. There was one paragraph in particular which was really stumping her. Luckily it was only a fluff piece, an expose for the Sunday edition of the paper and so she still had a couple days left before it was due. But still, she had spent the evening tossing and turning, trying to figure out what exactly was wrong with the phrasing.

She was so tired, still digging in her bag for her keys to the office that she almost didn’t notice the shadowy figure which was standing in front of the newspaper, wand and spray can in hand. It was the clatter of the can dropping to the ground (the vandal had seen her before she’d even noticed they were there) that had Talia looking up from her searching and she frowned.

“Hey!” she yelled, slinging her backpack fully onto her back so it would inhibit her running. “Get back here! You can’t do that!”

Talia took off running, her heart pounding as her feet hit the pavement, glad that she had never conceded to wearing nice heels to work like many of the other reporters did. Her backpack bumped against her lower back and Talia huffed to keep up. She had always been good at running, but the vandal was fast, faster than anyone she had ever run with before. Or maybe she had been taking too many coffees and cakes at the Grind and was out of shape. She’d hit the park with daily runs the next day.

Words were useless, she was going to need to either catch them or find someone who—

“Oof!” Talia had been so laser focused on the vandal about a block ahead of her that she hadn’t even seen the other person turning the corner and ran full into them. “Sorry!” she exclaimed, trying to pick herself up off the ground. “Just, that person, there,” the vandal rounded the corner. “Damn it!” she cursed. “They, spray paint, the Gazette, I have to, stop, them.” Her heart was beating rapidly and her chest rising and falling quickly while she tried to catch her breath, explain what was going on, and take off to catch the vandal all at the same time.

Raphael Vinchente as we discussed

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