How Could I Possibly Be Inconspicuous Novels & Stories

I might have just gotten here yesterday but I do not want to start feeling claustrophobic. I turn into a cardinal before I make my way out of the glamour. That way nobody has the chance to see me shift. I might be too cautious but it is better that than someone finding us. Elle has been succesful at hiding for so long that I would hate to ruin that at this point.

You can’t exactly buy werewolf-grade cock rings at Spencer’s, after all. I just stepped out of the shop when something shifts. I freeze. No scent. No movement. Nothing visible. But my instincts are screaming. Something’s wrong. I keep my claws sheathed but flex them into my right hand, slipping my keys between the fingers of my left. I hustle toward my car, scanning the street, heart thudding. Everything about this moment reminds me of the war. Of the Riding Hoods. If they’re in the area, I need to move fast.

As I walked towards the public toilet, my heart was racing, and I could feel my palms getting sweaty. I was afraid someone would recognize me or notice my bag, which was slightly bulging with my casual outfit. I pulled my hoodie over my head, covering my face as much as possible, and walked quickly, avoiding eye contact with anyone on the street.

“Experienced, discreet. Quick hands. Nights preferred.” I didnt want to but I knew that one way or another, I had to look into the life of my son. I had to focus on doing whatever I honestly could to just make sure that he had a secured life. So when morning came, I didnt think twice before I pulled on a black dress and a cardigan. I put on shoes that I could wear and stand all day. Then I tied my hair back and left my jewelry in a dish. I tried my best to become invisible but I knew very well that I could still be seen but I knew very well that if anyone paid close attention to me, they would be able to recongize me.

Like a secret that will dissolve the instant it becomes known to more than one person. Some truths are fragile that way. So I disguise myself. Nothing dramatic. No magic. No illusions that would ripple and announce themselves to the wrong kind of eyes. Just dull clothes with hair braided plainly and my scent muted with herbs the Mage once taught me to use. I look like a traveler with coin and nowhere important to be. I look like someone passing through. Someone unimportant. Someone who will not be remembered. Perfect. I slip out early in the morning when Damon is in meetings and the estate is caught up in the business of the day. I slip out like I have the right to leave. Like I am not carry

I keep walking. Don’t stop. Don’t react. Don’t let it show. Because if I do, if I give them even the slightest reason to think they’re right then it's over no one can find out not like this. I make it to the restroom before I let myself breathe. Actually breathe. My hands grip the edge of the sink as I stare at my reflection. I look the same. Don’t I? Same face. Same body. Nothing obvious. Nothing that should give me away.

I thought about how funny it was, not funny-funny, but the ironic kind of funny. A few days ago I was practically invisible in this school. A ghost. People looked through me without meaning to because I simply didn't register as significant enough to see. I'd spent a year and a half perfecting that invisibility, keeping my head down, staying small, not wanting to be noticed. And now I was hiding in a library corner specifically to avoid being seen. "Hi Cass." The voice came from just behind the shelf to my left, easy and familiar in a way that immediately cut my concentration. "Mind if I join you?”

And I don’t know any tricks to conceal them. But thankfully, the people here are careless in their haste, jostling and shoving without so much as a glance. A man bumps into me hard enough to make me stumble, and though I curse under my breath, I keep moving, keeping my head low. The less attention I draw, the better.

The trick is to blend in. Don’t walk too slow, but don’t walk too fast, either. Act like you belong. Have a destination in mind and make your way there without eye contact, but don’t look like you’re actively avoiding people, either. Just move like you’ve got places to be, errands to run and people tend to leave you well enough alone. And if you see cops coming —for the love of God— don’t run.

The directness of the plan likely seemed too risky in his eyes. I patiently explained, "Lack of mystery is often the killer of curiosity." The more open and straightforward we are, the less suspicion it will raise. People tend to be drawn to what’s hidden, not what’s blatantly out in the open. By making your pursuit of Nick so public, it will actually reduce Ken Yimo's wariness." Sometimes, transparency is the best disguise, and in this case, Peter’s boldness would be our shield.