Werewolves (RP12) The Day After the Storm
Quote from Mae on August 14, 2019, 4:16 pmA river of light was flowing across the ceiling. Yellow ripples swelled in circular pools, spreading out and growing thin. New flickering sparkles replacing them, wiggling likewise into slender rings and vanishing from sight. A cold wind rustled through the curtains. A single glass of clear water sat on the windowsill. The sun reflected through its quivering surface across the walls, painting the room with moving light.
Ulric found himself laying on his back in a quiet room. The blanket ruffled as he softly stirred, and a susurrus of paper murmured at his foot.
"Kratos?" Ulric muttered in disbelief. Ulric found him sitting on the floor at the foot of the bed, with his back pressed against the wall and his large legs stretched out in front of him.
"You're awake." The Alpha replied. His bright yellow eyes looked up over the book he was reading, but he did not otherwise turn his attention.
Ulric squinted and knit his brow. "What day is it?" He asked wearily.
"August Nineteenth, Nineteen ninety-seven." Kratos replied dryly.
"How long have I been asleep?"
"Only since last night."
"Where are the others?"
"Sleeping." Kratos turned down the corner on one page, closed the book, and set it on the floor beside him. "I thought it best for many, after last night, to spend a day resting."
Ulric breathed softly and turned his head to look out the window. Now he could hear the birds twittering faraway, and could smell the storm that had passed. At length, he ventured to stretch himself, slowly, gently, until he was aware of all the aches and pains of yesterday. Then he groaned softly, and sighed.
"Kratos, I don't understand." He said, "Last night was the worst I have ever experienced. I never felt so weak... and so afraid to be under the moon."
Kratos lifted his knees and rested his forearms on them.
"As bad as my injuries were," Ulric continued, "nothing felt so unbearable as just being under that light." He looked at Kratos again. "Why did it feel that way?"
Kratos breathed a long, heavy sigh, and interlocked his fingers thoughtfully.
"The moon has been associated with pain and fear for undated years." He said, supposing. "Though it appears to correlate with our affliction, most of its affects are psychological. I have often observed the part fear plays in changing us. That it induces a physiological effect as well is not surprising."Ulric lowered one brow.
Kratos reiterated. "While you were under the light of the moon, you believed the moon was causing you discomfort. Associating the light of the moon with what you were experiencing made you believe the moon was the cause. The cause, however, is found within your body and the cells that keep you alive. Your discomfort and fatigue was the result of those cells using energy it stored weeks in advance to obtain its secondary state, attempting instead to amend injuries you sustained prior to the change. You are fortunate that you were injured at the beginning of the night, and not toward the latter end, for such injuries more often prove fatal. Even so, I would advise you to refrain from taking your secondary form before the next full moon. Your body can only produce so much in so short a time, and it is already preparing for the next necessary change."
Kratos stood up and set his book on the nightstand. Ulric looked at the spine, and read the words "The Diadem of Nemean Leo, by Dae Maheras Cannon."
"You know," he said. "There are two lions outside the Pinerich Library dedicated to the author.""Yes," Kratos said softly. "I know."
"The Lions of Time." Ulric said, smiling at the book. "Whenever I went to the park to play, I would always see the proud face of a lion peeking over the hedge at me. I thought sometimes that they'd come alive, and chase me into the fountain where the bronze horse stood frozen, tossing its foaming mane. Heh."
The thought that brought a smile to Ulric's face, and sent him reminiscing of childhood games and fancies, appeared to have the opposite affect on the Alpha, who know looked solemn and grim. He turned from the room quietly after adjusting the curtain and said quietly over his shoulder, "You should get up, and get ready for the day. We may have something to celebrate later."
Then Kratos left, and checked in on other rooms in the hall.
A river of light was flowing across the ceiling. Yellow ripples swelled in circular pools, spreading out and growing thin. New flickering sparkles replacing them, wiggling likewise into slender rings and vanishing from sight. A cold wind rustled through the curtains. A single glass of clear water sat on the windowsill. The sun reflected through its quivering surface across the walls, painting the room with moving light.
Ulric found himself laying on his back in a quiet room. The blanket ruffled as he softly stirred, and a susurrus of paper murmured at his foot.
"Kratos?" Ulric muttered in disbelief. Ulric found him sitting on the floor at the foot of the bed, with his back pressed against the wall and his large legs stretched out in front of him.
"You're awake." The Alpha replied. His bright yellow eyes looked up over the book he was reading, but he did not otherwise turn his attention.
Ulric squinted and knit his brow. "What day is it?" He asked wearily.
"August Nineteenth, Nineteen ninety-seven." Kratos replied dryly.
"How long have I been asleep?"
"Only since last night."
"Where are the others?"
"Sleeping." Kratos turned down the corner on one page, closed the book, and set it on the floor beside him. "I thought it best for many, after last night, to spend a day resting."
Ulric breathed softly and turned his head to look out the window. Now he could hear the birds twittering faraway, and could smell the storm that had passed. At length, he ventured to stretch himself, slowly, gently, until he was aware of all the aches and pains of yesterday. Then he groaned softly, and sighed.
"Kratos, I don't understand." He said, "Last night was the worst I have ever experienced. I never felt so weak... and so afraid to be under the moon."
Kratos lifted his knees and rested his forearms on them.
"As bad as my injuries were," Ulric continued, "nothing felt so unbearable as just being under that light." He looked at Kratos again. "Why did it feel that way?"
Kratos breathed a long, heavy sigh, and interlocked his fingers thoughtfully.
"The moon has been associated with pain and fear for undated years." He said, supposing. "Though it appears to correlate with our affliction, most of its affects are psychological. I have often observed the part fear plays in changing us. That it induces a physiological effect as well is not surprising."
Ulric lowered one brow.
Kratos reiterated. "While you were under the light of the moon, you believed the moon was causing you discomfort. Associating the light of the moon with what you were experiencing made you believe the moon was the cause. The cause, however, is found within your body and the cells that keep you alive. Your discomfort and fatigue was the result of those cells using energy it stored weeks in advance to obtain its secondary state, attempting instead to amend injuries you sustained prior to the change. You are fortunate that you were injured at the beginning of the night, and not toward the latter end, for such injuries more often prove fatal. Even so, I would advise you to refrain from taking your secondary form before the next full moon. Your body can only produce so much in so short a time, and it is already preparing for the next necessary change."
Kratos stood up and set his book on the nightstand. Ulric looked at the spine, and read the words "The Diadem of Nemean Leo, by Dae Maheras Cannon."
"You know," he said. "There are two lions outside the Pinerich Library dedicated to the author."
"Yes," Kratos said softly. "I know."
"The Lions of Time." Ulric said, smiling at the book. "Whenever I went to the park to play, I would always see the proud face of a lion peeking over the hedge at me. I thought sometimes that they'd come alive, and chase me into the fountain where the bronze horse stood frozen, tossing its foaming mane. Heh."
The thought that brought a smile to Ulric's face, and sent him reminiscing of childhood games and fancies, appeared to have the opposite affect on the Alpha, who know looked solemn and grim. He turned from the room quietly after adjusting the curtain and said quietly over his shoulder, "You should get up, and get ready for the day. We may have something to celebrate later."
Then Kratos left, and checked in on other rooms in the hall.
Quote from Adriana on August 14, 2019, 8:33 pmLogan was uncharacteristically still asleep. The door to her room was open, and she was laying on the bed face down, at somewhat of an angle. Because of said angle, one arm hung off the bed. The other pinned a pillow atop her head so only her black hair was visible sprawled out beneath it, and for someone who had been in the cold all night, only one foot was tucked somewhat beneath a corner of bed sheet-the rest of the blankets and sheets having been kicked off the bed at some point and now lay in a hapless pile beside it.
Such a display could only the result of someone so exhausted that comfort wasn't a priority-surely she was asleep as soon as she hit the bed. The pillow might have been a more recent effort to snuff out the sunlight, as her fingers tensed over it, grasping it and drawing it down further over her face with a low groan.
_____________________________
Bianca, meanwhile, hadn't slept as soundly. She was already up, the sound of running shower water was a testament to that. It would probably be running for some time, as was typical of Bianca.
Logan was uncharacteristically still asleep. The door to her room was open, and she was laying on the bed face down, at somewhat of an angle. Because of said angle, one arm hung off the bed. The other pinned a pillow atop her head so only her black hair was visible sprawled out beneath it, and for someone who had been in the cold all night, only one foot was tucked somewhat beneath a corner of bed sheet-the rest of the blankets and sheets having been kicked off the bed at some point and now lay in a hapless pile beside it.
Such a display could only the result of someone so exhausted that comfort wasn't a priority-surely she was asleep as soon as she hit the bed. The pillow might have been a more recent effort to snuff out the sunlight, as her fingers tensed over it, grasping it and drawing it down further over her face with a low groan.
_____________________________
Bianca, meanwhile, hadn't slept as soundly. She was already up, the sound of running shower water was a testament to that. It would probably be running for some time, as was typical of Bianca.
Quote from Indy on August 15, 2019, 8:10 pmJackie wasn’t asleep. She hadn’t been for a while. And even that first few hours might not have qualified as such, nightmare and reality merely next-door neighbors rather than vast countries. Each time she'd drifted off, she was almost choking on dark caverns, horns, and red eyes.
What she needed, rest couldn’t have provided anyways. Now she smelled of earth and green. Her shoes were by the door, fresh mud in the soles. Her dirty clothing from the night before was contained in a plastic grocery sack by the closet, caked stiff with mud and still damp with some places with rain water. The sheets on her bed were made, as if she was no more than a stranger to them. And perhaps she was. She’d only been back in this room for the last hour or so. Her fingers were folded around a slip of white paper, which she wouldn’t relinquish even as the other hand worked.
She moved with a sort of intent aimlessness. She would study the daylight and shifting trees outside, then as if a sudden idea struck her, would rummage in the drawers of the dresser for the matches she kept inside. Or a stray dollar she’d discovered in a pair of freshly washed jeans, then retrieve the freshly discarded jeans as well. Her pocket knife. Rope. Sunglasses. A ball cap. A hoodie. Sharp scissors. As she retrieved each, she’d toss them in a corner — at least until she uncovered a small, red, canvas backpack, then haphazardly shoved them all inside. Only the ball cap remained, and this she considered carefully.
Finally she stood by the mirror perched atop her dresser, staring back at the wild-eyed woman who peered back. Her hair hung past her chest; it was beyond being called ‘wild’ or ‘wavy’ or ‘a little tangled’. It was a mess. If she’d tried to comb her fingers through it, the unyielding copper hair would have permitted it no more than an inch. In some places, she suspected it was matted, and in others still damp. But still, she considered it carefully, gently grabbing the thick mass with one hand, winding it around as much as it would permit, then settling the twisted lump on the top of her skull. Still holding it, she grabbed the ball cap now clutched with the other (as well as the white paper), and carefully tried to wedge the hat on top.
Slowly, she released her hold on both, and studied herself in the mirror to see if it would stay. Then she sharply turned her head towards the door as she heard the footsteps echoing down the hallway.
Jackie wasn’t asleep. She hadn’t been for a while. And even that first few hours might not have qualified as such, nightmare and reality merely next-door neighbors rather than vast countries. Each time she'd drifted off, she was almost choking on dark caverns, horns, and red eyes.
What she needed, rest couldn’t have provided anyways. Now she smelled of earth and green. Her shoes were by the door, fresh mud in the soles. Her dirty clothing from the night before was contained in a plastic grocery sack by the closet, caked stiff with mud and still damp with some places with rain water. The sheets on her bed were made, as if she was no more than a stranger to them. And perhaps she was. She’d only been back in this room for the last hour or so. Her fingers were folded around a slip of white paper, which she wouldn’t relinquish even as the other hand worked.
She moved with a sort of intent aimlessness. She would study the daylight and shifting trees outside, then as if a sudden idea struck her, would rummage in the drawers of the dresser for the matches she kept inside. Or a stray dollar she’d discovered in a pair of freshly washed jeans, then retrieve the freshly discarded jeans as well. Her pocket knife. Rope. Sunglasses. A ball cap. A hoodie. Sharp scissors. As she retrieved each, she’d toss them in a corner — at least until she uncovered a small, red, canvas backpack, then haphazardly shoved them all inside. Only the ball cap remained, and this she considered carefully.
Finally she stood by the mirror perched atop her dresser, staring back at the wild-eyed woman who peered back. Her hair hung past her chest; it was beyond being called ‘wild’ or ‘wavy’ or ‘a little tangled’. It was a mess. If she’d tried to comb her fingers through it, the unyielding copper hair would have permitted it no more than an inch. In some places, she suspected it was matted, and in others still damp. But still, she considered it carefully, gently grabbing the thick mass with one hand, winding it around as much as it would permit, then settling the twisted lump on the top of her skull. Still holding it, she grabbed the ball cap now clutched with the other (as well as the white paper), and carefully tried to wedge the hat on top.
Slowly, she released her hold on both, and studied herself in the mirror to see if it would stay. Then she sharply turned her head towards the door as she heard the footsteps echoing down the hallway.
Quote from Deleted user on August 16, 2019, 11:18 pmThe world was dark, the sun having set already.
The city blurred from the motion of the vehicle. The buildings passing by were hardly acknowledged by glazed dark eyes. Everything felt slow and surreal, nothing seeming to stick in his mind.
The shadow of a driver's presence almost consumed all of his focus and yet none of it at all. He felt dizzy, sick. Any words spoken from the driver were of concern of his current state, but he didn't hear them so much as felt the anxiety from them. But, even they seemed insignificant and drowned out to the feeling that was slowly welling up deep inside.
After having to stop at a stop light, the lack of movement grew his anxieties as it all began to overflow. He was going to die, there was no doubt about it.
The sensation itself felt like it could very well suffocate him. It felt like it was trying to. He mumbled for it to stop, but it wouldn't. It kept pushing, his throat growing tighter and tighter. He tried to gasp for air but couldn't. He felt his lungs failing him. He tried to tell it to stop again, but nothing seemed to come out. No air. He couldn't breath-
Saber's eyes shot open immediately has he gasped for air. He felt like he heard himself mumble one last plea just as he was surfacing back to the real world.
"....no... stop....!"
The words brielfy echoed in his mind as he just breathed.
His body felt clammy, his mind still disoriented from the sudden transition to wakefulness. However the unfamiliar scenery around quickly sent another wave of panic through him, and he sat up rather suddenly in response. Unfortunately the motion was done too soon and his head felt light, his vision blurred as the room seemed to spin.
He closed his eyes and placed his head in one of his hands as he tried to steady himself, taking in shaky breaths.
The world was dark, the sun having set already.
The city blurred from the motion of the vehicle. The buildings passing by were hardly acknowledged by glazed dark eyes. Everything felt slow and surreal, nothing seeming to stick in his mind.
The shadow of a driver's presence almost consumed all of his focus and yet none of it at all. He felt dizzy, sick. Any words spoken from the driver were of concern of his current state, but he didn't hear them so much as felt the anxiety from them. But, even they seemed insignificant and drowned out to the feeling that was slowly welling up deep inside.
After having to stop at a stop light, the lack of movement grew his anxieties as it all began to overflow. He was going to die, there was no doubt about it.
The sensation itself felt like it could very well suffocate him. It felt like it was trying to. He mumbled for it to stop, but it wouldn't. It kept pushing, his throat growing tighter and tighter. He tried to gasp for air but couldn't. He felt his lungs failing him. He tried to tell it to stop again, but nothing seemed to come out. No air. He couldn't breath-
Saber's eyes shot open immediately has he gasped for air. He felt like he heard himself mumble one last plea just as he was surfacing back to the real world.
"....no... stop....!"
The words brielfy echoed in his mind as he just breathed.
His body felt clammy, his mind still disoriented from the sudden transition to wakefulness. However the unfamiliar scenery around quickly sent another wave of panic through him, and he sat up rather suddenly in response. Unfortunately the motion was done too soon and his head felt light, his vision blurred as the room seemed to spin.
He closed his eyes and placed his head in one of his hands as he tried to steady himself, taking in shaky breaths.
Quote from Mae on August 17, 2019, 11:59 pmDespite the Alpha's prompting, Ulric remained staring up at the ceiling over his bed for some time.
*****
Meanwhile, the Alpha walked by the room where Logan slept. He peered in as he passed by as nothing more than a common shadow in the hallway.When Jackie turned around, he was there, standing outside her door. His inhuman yellow eyes surveyed her attire, her countenance, and her ball cap. There he lingered for only a moment, as if to ask, "Are you going somewhere?"
But he said nothing, and after a moment continued down the hall, where his footsteps were heard to descend the stairs.*****
Outside, the sun was fair and the weather cheery. Kratos left the large log cabin and stepped onto the deep wet mountain earth. The storm was nigh a memory now, but many of the tall trees were barren. He could smell the thick white clouds rolling through the forest at higher elevations. A cold wind was a testament to the changing seasons. Yet, the sun was shining and a pleasant warmth mixed with the scent of pines in the air.Under one tree in the clearing outside the dens, Kratos cast his gaze on a long silvery shadow. It had rested there most of the morning, and did not appear intent on moving now.
"You are a wonder," Kratos told it out loud. "You have no control over that form whatsoever, and yet you abide in it well past the fading of the moon. Do you know why you came back, Timothy?"
The wolf never lifted his head off the grass. His black and grey striped blended with the grass. His turquoise eyes watched the Alpha, but the shadow did not rise.
Kratos said nothing more, and left the yard. He passed between the two dens and entered the opposite from which he left. Though the first den was filled with sleeping, resting, and lingering individuals, the quiet of the second den far surpassed even its peaceful atmosphere. Fewer had congregated here, and that made it an ideal dwelling for the stranger in one of its dorms. Kratos progressed quietly up the steps, and stopped outside the door.
Despite the Alpha's prompting, Ulric remained staring up at the ceiling over his bed for some time.
*****
Meanwhile, the Alpha walked by the room where Logan slept. He peered in as he passed by as nothing more than a common shadow in the hallway.
When Jackie turned around, he was there, standing outside her door. His inhuman yellow eyes surveyed her attire, her countenance, and her ball cap. There he lingered for only a moment, as if to ask, "Are you going somewhere?"
But he said nothing, and after a moment continued down the hall, where his footsteps were heard to descend the stairs.
*****
Outside, the sun was fair and the weather cheery. Kratos left the large log cabin and stepped onto the deep wet mountain earth. The storm was nigh a memory now, but many of the tall trees were barren. He could smell the thick white clouds rolling through the forest at higher elevations. A cold wind was a testament to the changing seasons. Yet, the sun was shining and a pleasant warmth mixed with the scent of pines in the air.
Under one tree in the clearing outside the dens, Kratos cast his gaze on a long silvery shadow. It had rested there most of the morning, and did not appear intent on moving now.
"You are a wonder," Kratos told it out loud. "You have no control over that form whatsoever, and yet you abide in it well past the fading of the moon. Do you know why you came back, Timothy?"
The wolf never lifted his head off the grass. His black and grey striped blended with the grass. His turquoise eyes watched the Alpha, but the shadow did not rise.
Kratos said nothing more, and left the yard. He passed between the two dens and entered the opposite from which he left. Though the first den was filled with sleeping, resting, and lingering individuals, the quiet of the second den far surpassed even its peaceful atmosphere. Fewer had congregated here, and that made it an ideal dwelling for the stranger in one of its dorms. Kratos progressed quietly up the steps, and stopped outside the door.
Quote from Kaqurei on August 21, 2019, 10:46 pmMind. Spirit. Body.
Control. Conform.
Peace.
The room in which Saber awoke was a charming one, with wood floors, clean white bed sheets, a bright open window across the room from his bed, graced by light curtains flowing in the gentle breeze. The blanket under which he found himself, as well as the tabletop, drawer handles, and key decorations in the room provided a forest green accent to the otherwise neutral color scheme of the decor. Everything looked new, as though the place had been recently modeled.
In the center of the room, currently in One Foot King Pigeon pose upon a yoga mat, was the young woman he'd met the night before. The one with the platinum blonde hair. She'd since exchanged her almost Grecian-style robes for a white crop tank and spandex shorts, her hair pulled back into a tight ponytail.
She seemed unfazed by Saber's exclamation. Her eyes remained closed, her focus apparently merely on breathing. Then, with the poise of a ballerina, she released the pose, returning her foot to the ground and transitioned to Downward Facing Dog. A moment. A breath. Then release. She came to a kneel. Only then did she look at Saber.
Her face was placid. Almost like a disinterested cat, with irises just as green, she blinked slowly. Then she pushed herself to her feet and brushed a stray wisp of hair from her face.
"Do you have nightmares often?"
There was a measured amount of concern in her voice to temper its casual nature, to give him the sense that he was in control--it was up to him to decide if the question was rhetorical, or if she was genuinely interested in his answer.
Mind. Spirit. Body.
Control. Conform.
Peace.
The room in which Saber awoke was a charming one, with wood floors, clean white bed sheets, a bright open window across the room from his bed, graced by light curtains flowing in the gentle breeze. The blanket under which he found himself, as well as the tabletop, drawer handles, and key decorations in the room provided a forest green accent to the otherwise neutral color scheme of the decor. Everything looked new, as though the place had been recently modeled.
In the center of the room, currently in One Foot King Pigeon pose upon a yoga mat, was the young woman he'd met the night before. The one with the platinum blonde hair. She'd since exchanged her almost Grecian-style robes for a white crop tank and spandex shorts, her hair pulled back into a tight ponytail.
She seemed unfazed by Saber's exclamation. Her eyes remained closed, her focus apparently merely on breathing. Then, with the poise of a ballerina, she released the pose, returning her foot to the ground and transitioned to Downward Facing Dog. A moment. A breath. Then release. She came to a kneel. Only then did she look at Saber.
Her face was placid. Almost like a disinterested cat, with irises just as green, she blinked slowly. Then she pushed herself to her feet and brushed a stray wisp of hair from her face.
"Do you have nightmares often?"
There was a measured amount of concern in her voice to temper its casual nature, to give him the sense that he was in control--it was up to him to decide if the question was rhetorical, or if she was genuinely interested in his answer.
Quote from Deleted user on August 22, 2019, 2:47 amAfter a few breaths, Saber finally looked around the room which he now found himself in, easily noticing the blonde doing yoga.
The sun felt too bright on his eyes as he examined the room, causing him to squint for a moment. Ultimately there was not much to see beyond the highly focused woman doing yoga. Then a sudden thought took hold of Saber, and he shifted his attention to his pockets and the belongings of which were kept in them. Finding nothing out of place, he threw off the sheets and slowly swung his legs off the side of the bed. He caught sight of Sabrina looking at him as she stood.
Her question was met with a silent glare. A moment passed before he stood, slipped his hands into his jacket pockets and etched a response into the air.
" Do you usually leave new werewolves to run off on their own to get themselves killed or was that just last night?" Saber's deep Asian voice came out layered with ice. His eyes were aglow with his anger, but unlike the prior evenings exchange, he was still holding some part of it back.
Control. He had some level of it... At the moment anyways. Unlike before where his anger made him lash out almost violently, he still had a small grip on his temper.
" And where the heck did you take me?" Saber asked next with a roughly even voice, shortly turning his focus towards the window view. " This isn't the cabin we were in before."
After a few breaths, Saber finally looked around the room which he now found himself in, easily noticing the blonde doing yoga.
The sun felt too bright on his eyes as he examined the room, causing him to squint for a moment. Ultimately there was not much to see beyond the highly focused woman doing yoga. Then a sudden thought took hold of Saber, and he shifted his attention to his pockets and the belongings of which were kept in them. Finding nothing out of place, he threw off the sheets and slowly swung his legs off the side of the bed. He caught sight of Sabrina looking at him as she stood.
Her question was met with a silent glare. A moment passed before he stood, slipped his hands into his jacket pockets and etched a response into the air.
" Do you usually leave new werewolves to run off on their own to get themselves killed or was that just last night?" Saber's deep Asian voice came out layered with ice. His eyes were aglow with his anger, but unlike the prior evenings exchange, he was still holding some part of it back.
Control. He had some level of it... At the moment anyways. Unlike before where his anger made him lash out almost violently, he still had a small grip on his temper.
" And where the heck did you take me?" Saber asked next with a roughly even voice, shortly turning his focus towards the window view. " This isn't the cabin we were in before."
Quote from Adriana on August 22, 2019, 5:58 pmBianca came out of the bathroom with her half wet hair hanging down. It was yet untamed, cast in waves around her shoulders. She worked to brush it out as she paced quietly down the hall, barefoot. She donned a long sweater that once red, and now was sunbleached, almost faded to pink-all save for the white lettering on the back, "Middlecrest High", then below, "#23". It went nearly to her knees and was wet in the spots her hair rested on it. Barely visible underneath were a pair of black gym shorts, almost completely covered by the length of the baggy sweatshirt. She didn't wear any makeup-she hadn't in a while. Camping in the mountains for months left her deprived of her usual luxuries, and there was hardly any left from what she had brought up here. She hadn't been shopping in ages, and was woefully aware of the fact.
She was somewhat pleased to find however, in spite of its traumas, three months in the mountains had tanned her all over, and had bleached her already light blonde hair until her skin had become a darker contrast against it. It was like summer her days with Grandpa Chapman on the lakehouse. Except not fun and warm and fuzzy and what it lacked in marshmallows it made up for in anxiety.
She continued down the hall, then down the stairs into the kitchen. On the stovetop in the kitchen, a kettle whistled. Setting her brush on the counter, she took it off the burner and began to set several mugs on a tray, filling them with hot water. In each mug, a teabag of peppermint and lavender teas were already present. She sat at the table and stared absentmindedly while they steeped, slowly and rhythmically brushing the knots at the end of her hair.
Bianca came out of the bathroom with her half wet hair hanging down. It was yet untamed, cast in waves around her shoulders. She worked to brush it out as she paced quietly down the hall, barefoot. She donned a long sweater that once red, and now was sunbleached, almost faded to pink-all save for the white lettering on the back, "Middlecrest High", then below, "#23". It went nearly to her knees and was wet in the spots her hair rested on it. Barely visible underneath were a pair of black gym shorts, almost completely covered by the length of the baggy sweatshirt. She didn't wear any makeup-she hadn't in a while. Camping in the mountains for months left her deprived of her usual luxuries, and there was hardly any left from what she had brought up here. She hadn't been shopping in ages, and was woefully aware of the fact.
She was somewhat pleased to find however, in spite of its traumas, three months in the mountains had tanned her all over, and had bleached her already light blonde hair until her skin had become a darker contrast against it. It was like summer her days with Grandpa Chapman on the lakehouse. Except not fun and warm and fuzzy and what it lacked in marshmallows it made up for in anxiety.
She continued down the hall, then down the stairs into the kitchen. On the stovetop in the kitchen, a kettle whistled. Setting her brush on the counter, she took it off the burner and began to set several mugs on a tray, filling them with hot water. In each mug, a teabag of peppermint and lavender teas were already present. She sat at the table and stared absentmindedly while they steeped, slowly and rhythmically brushing the knots at the end of her hair.
Quote from Kaqurei on August 22, 2019, 7:56 pmSabrina raised one thin eyebrow and looked at Saber through half-closed eyelids. "How old did you say you were, again?" she asked, crossing her arms. But then she shrugged and brushed the question out of the air as though it was irrelevant. "Your rhetoric is petty and juvenile. I will not banter with you nor list all that I have done for you in the past 15 hours. I have nothing to prove to you. The fact remains that the attribute of self-accountability is lacking in your character. Without that, you will never have the power to control your inner wolf. Is that quite understood?"
Sabrina raised one thin eyebrow and looked at Saber through half-closed eyelids. "How old did you say you were, again?" she asked, crossing her arms. But then she shrugged and brushed the question out of the air as though it was irrelevant. "Your rhetoric is petty and juvenile. I will not banter with you nor list all that I have done for you in the past 15 hours. I have nothing to prove to you. The fact remains that the attribute of self-accountability is lacking in your character. Without that, you will never have the power to control your inner wolf. Is that quite understood?"
Quote from Deleted user on August 22, 2019, 10:21 pmSaber was back to glaring at Sabrina. Although he was trying to keep his temper under control, it was clear it was rising.
" ...Just tell me how to get back to town, and I'll be out of your hair." He said gruffly.
Saber was back to glaring at Sabrina. Although he was trying to keep his temper under control, it was clear it was rising.
" ...Just tell me how to get back to town, and I'll be out of your hair." He said gruffly.
