Declan McDermott
Leipzig, Germany
Declan had a spring in his step and hummed a jaunty little tune as the band finished their rehearsal and put their instruments away until the evening's show. It wasn't Declan's first time on the European continent - there had been a couple of school trips and a study abroad when he was younger - but it was Standing Stone's first time playing gigs here, and that was a big deal.
It was extra special that Clare had come along. His girlfriend didn't usually accompany the band on tour - she had her own job back home and couldn't leave it on a whim to go gallivanting with folk musicians - but with her students on school break, just this once she was able to join him to celebrate the milestone. It was nice to have her along. He always missed her when he was on the road without her.
There was something else special about this trip, too, beyond just being a sign of the band's success. Declan planned to take the opportunity to propose to Clare. He'd bought the ring, and now he was just waiting for some suitably romantic European destination to pop the question. He'd been practicing his speech in his head the entire transatlantic flight, and he was pretty confident that she would say yes.
Immortals were the last thing on Declan's mind as he nodded goodbye to his bandmates and started walking the few blocks back to the hotel. As far as he knew, immortals were just sad stories on the news to him, nothing that affected his own day-to-day existence.
If a Lycan were present, though, that werewolf would have realized that while Declan himself was undoubtedly entirely human, he was steeped in the scent of Fae. It clung to his clothes, his skin, his hair, centered at a spot on his chest where a head had rested a few hours earlier. Declan had no idea that this subtle perfume trail followed him, though.
He was just a regular guy, and it was going to be a good day.
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