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Post by erik on Dec 16, 2009 16:22:44 GMT -5
The moon was full up above and the urge to run had been to much. Slipping from his cabin, Erik Kincaid shed his human persona and in a flash, transformed into a huge, shimmering silver wolf. Much larger than the average, the creature paced forward and then broke out into a full run as it left the trappings of civilization behind and ran as free as it had been meant to. A loud, mournful howl broke free as it ran but it didn't stop until it came to a hill over looking the city of New Orleans. It was only there, that the beast paused and caught its breath as moonlight danced around it.
Suddenly, from somewhere nearby, a sound snapped the wolf's head around and its lips curled back in a snarl. Bounding away from the ledge, he smelled the scent of another on the wind and knew it to be foe. Leaping through the forest, he chased it for what seemed like miles before coming to a clearing where six of the biggest weres he'd ever seen waited.
Having laid the trap well, the weres were already in their half forms so Erik was forced to change in mid spring and only just managed to catch the first attacker by the throat in time. Tossing the villian into another, he snarled at the feel of claws slashing through his bare side. A savage punch crunched bone and another assassin fell to the ground with a hiss of pain but the remaining three converged in a united effort. Growling and snapping, they went for the kill but were amazed at the shifters ability to shift shape and appear where they least expected it.
In the middle of a battle, Erik had a quick flash of what an empty hole his life had become and laughed savagely. For all his time upon this earth, he had very little to show for it and one regret. Misery. Son of a bitch. There were just some times in a mans life when events conspired against him and this was one of those nights.
His attackers were obviously familiar with what and who he was and had come prepared. Immortal he might be but they obviously knew enough to incapacitate him for a long period of time. Their blows were aimed to sever his head from his body and he knew if they suceeded, he would be sent back to Nel to await her pleasure. That thought alone pissed him off more than the attack itself. He was in NO mood to deal with the goddess.
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Post by tyrese on Dec 18, 2009 22:38:11 GMT -5
One, two, three, four. One, two, three, four. A tempo beat in his head to the sound of his booted feet clomping on the dirt path. One, two, three, four. Ow, ow, ow, ow.
One scarred hand came up to massage aching temples, and a soft sigh emerged from slightly chapped lips. If there was anything more annoying than having to live in a city, surrounded by annoying tourists, drunken college kids and just all around IRRITATING people, he hadn’t yet found it. Sure, he’d gone and rented the nicest, roomiest apartment he could find that was far away from the universities and/or the tourist traps…
But hell, it just wasn’t his mountain. It was loud, obnoxious, smelled like rotting bodies and sewage, and everyone around him, in one form or another, was going to die. He could see it, feel it, TASTE it, for crying out loud…and the temptation to do something nasty was just too much to withstand.
Hence why he was walking down a forest path, looking to crash at his buddy’s place. God, he felt like some kind of married man shoved into a metaphorical dog house. He really needed to suck it up and buy a pair of noise cancellers.
Trudging up to the quaint log cabin, he rapped a scarred knuckle against the front door. Shifting a bit from booted foot to booted foot, he shoved his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket and glared at the scarred wood.
The scent of the forest around him was a welcome balm to the harshness of the city. Inwardly, he couldn’t help but roll his eyes at himself. Tyreese Gla’Dour, formerly Tyresius Flavius, veteran of Rome, actually found himself feeling confined in damn New Orleans. Gods, the place was the epitome of the Fields, compared to the cesspit that was Rome in her heyday.
But there he was, standing outside in the chill night, waiting for his friend to open the goddamn door, so he could get some goddamn sleep away from all the goddamn noise of the goddamn city. Goddamn it.
Leaning sideways against the jam, he sighed and played with the spare change in his pocket. Any minute now, Celt, he thought with a soft growl, letting scratchy eyes close. He knew old women who moved faster than…than…
Growling. Branches breaking, pain-filled snarls and bodies hitting bodies. Dark eyes snapped open as the sounds rushed into sensitive ears honed by years of fighting, and in an instant, he was off the cabin’s porch and into the woods.
Hell, he was probably just hearing some kind of animal pack having a subordinate bitch slap. Or some moron was doing a dog fight out in the secluded woods, even if it was suicide to go on Kincaid land without permission…and hell, dog fighting.
Then again, when did he ever catch his brother so much off guard, that it took him a full round of inner grumbling to open the damn door? Something was off, and a savage smile lit onto his face at the realization.
FINALLY, some action. And here he’d thought that the modern world was boring.
Crashing through the underbrush like some kind of crazed thing, Ty practically careened into the mêlée with an abandon that he’d berate himself for later. Half changed shifters, wolves with bloody teeth and death on their minds; oh yeah, this was definitely what he needed to get a good night’s sleep.
“I leave you alone for ONE DAY, Celt,” He bellowed on another raspy laugh, catching an assassin by the throat and crushing the windpipe in one clench. From underneath his jacket, a pair of knuckle blades slid onto his hands, and what had been a pack of shifters intent on the kill, became a pack of shifters wondering what the holy hell was going on.
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Post by Misery Martinique on Dec 19, 2009 9:50:12 GMT -5
Misery didn’t know why she had done it. Perhaps it was the bottle of rum that was sitting at her knee, already half gone and only just newly opened. She hadn’t languished over him in ages. Though the witch thought of him often, it usually brought out feelings of anger and resentment, instead of the heartache she was feeling now. She had pushed him so far down into her soul she was hoping he would rot there; eaten by the emptiness that had been consuming her since his disappearance.
So why was the witch sitting there now; hand perched over the map of New Orleans, scrying crystal dangling over one certain spot on that map, dark eyes glazed over with disbelief?
He was here.
A contrast of emotions nearly knocked her over. Rage, grief, hope, sadness; they encompassed her like all the colors of the spectrum in reds and greens and vibrant purples and black...all consuming black. The witch pushed angrily at the chocolate locks that had fallen into her misty eyes. He was so close...so very close, and yet, he hadn’t bothered to call her? To Stop by? The decaying muscle in her chest began to beat wildly; it echoed in her ears and threatened to burst through the wall of bones that imprisoned it.
Rising to her feet so fast she upset the liquor that had been next to her, Misery whirled around in a circle to search the small back room with her gaze. Something. She had to do something. What was sufficient to get revenge on a lover that had scorned you so bad that you were left bleeding from within? Her glare caught on a glass bottle filled with an ominous crimson liquid that was resting on a dusty wooden shelf. Bare feet splashed through the amber fluid that had spilled from the bottle and puddle on the plank floor, and Misery reached through cobwebs to retrieve the potion.
It wouldn’t be enough to make him suffer like she had suffered. Overturning books and other jars filled with things her shaking hand found the small vial of Belladonna. Misery hurriedly uncorked the poison and sprinkled it into the crimson potion, which began to sizzle and hiss.
She didn’t stop to think about shoes. She didn’t grab her purse or bother to pull on a jacket to protect her against the chill. The witch stormed out to her JEEP, bare feet and all, clutching the bottle like a lifeline.
He was so close...
The cabin was similar to the one she had known before. Misery wondered if he still had the same bed and the same sheets that they had laid on; tangled up with one another, forgetting all else. She wanted to burn that bed and those sheets now.
The witch didn’t even bother to cut off the ignition before she leapt out; sprinting toward a chaotic noise not far from the cabin in a clearing beyond a thin tree line. From the sounds of grunting and pain, she knew there was a scuffle happening. Misery only hoped that they wouldn’t hurt him too badly before she got a chance to.
The scene was simply brutal. Misery gasped and dropped the poison potion, dark somber eyes growing wide with surprise. There were so many of them; Erik was holding his own but there were just so many of them. Fierce, savage... Her hand came to her mouth just before she let out a scream.”
Breathing heavily, all Misery could think of was that Erik couldn’t die... Instinct took over as surge of something powerful went through her. Roots buried deep in the ground beneath the tussle began to shift; undulate. The massive tree root burst forth from the damp earth; snaking around one of the attackers like a thick, woody rope. It held on tight as if it had a mind of its own. How she’d done it, the witch wasn’t sure, but it seemed to hold back at least one...
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Post by erik on Dec 19, 2009 20:04:48 GMT -5
Well hell... Erik would be the first to admit that he liked a good fight just as much as the next guy but six against one definitely weren't odds in his favor. Not to mention the fact that all six were fast healing, supernatural strengthened were's in a blood frenzy. Snarling and snapping, the wolf smacked one after another down but they kept coming back for more.
From the corner of his eye, he saw two lunge for him at the same time but before he could move out of the way a set of nasty teeth grabbed him by the shoulder and tore through muscle to hit bone. A hiss of pain escaped him only to have another one swipe at his chest and leave ragged tears across his front. Oh yeah, he was definitely getting the worse end of this fight. That fact infuriated him and he grabbed two assailants and rammed their heads together hard enough to crush their skulls.
Suddenly, out of nowhere, a new sound emerged and Erik whipped around to face whatever was coming next. As he did so, he stumbled and his right leg went out from under him, leaving him at the mercy of his foes. Luckily, Tyreese GlaDour made his savage appearance and began to dance with wolves as he crushed one wind pipe and went after another. Still kneeling on the ground, Erik was knocked backwards by a fully turned were and barely got his arm up in time to save his throat from being ripped out. As teeth tore through his forearm, he cursed and kicked hard with his good leg before becoming vaguely aware of the forest coming to life around them. What looked to be the... Root? of a near by tree shot up and twirled itself around a were before pinning him in place. To busy warding off the snapping jaws of the were on top of him, Erik couldn't puzzled that one out at the moment.
"Good damn you, you son of a bitch!" he snarled before bringing his good arm up to slug the creature in the chest and send it spinning backwards off of him. Instantly moving after it, he grabbed it by the head and twisted to hear a sharp "Snap". It wouldn't kill the thing but it would definitely slow it down long enough for Erik to fully put it out of its misery.
Falling backwards, Erik stumbled and went to his knees again. As the battle came to a close and he saw Tyreese take out his opponent, his vision blurred and he shook his head to clear his vision. Some sixth sense prodded him and his eyes went to the were standing trapped in the grip of the mighty tree root. Immediately, his eyes began to search the shadows and fell upon a sight that he knew had to be a vision.
Yeah, son of a bitch, he really must be more than half dead because he was dreaming of his voodoo queen. Damn it, it wasn't fair that the only god forsaken way he seemed to be able to be near her was when trouble came calling and he was about to meet his "Maker" so to speak.
"Misery" he croaked out hoarsely before toppling forward, face first into the forest floor.
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Post by tyrese on Dec 20, 2009 16:32:23 GMT -5
Ah, the sweet sounds of death. The rattling breath, the spray of blood, the scream of pain before silence reigned…Gods, it was a wonder why he hid himself in the mountains. There were just so many stupid people waiting to die, that all he had to do was show up and he’d get his violence fix.
The shifters amassed and attacked again, and Ty met them with another raspy laugh. Some were half changed, others human and other still on all fours, lashing out with teeth and fangs. He couldn’t help but wish he’d thought of bringing those trusty .45’s, or a sword, at least, to keep them all at arm’s length. Pain sizzled through his mind as he caught a few blows to his chest and arms; felt the flesh gouged out in his back, as the leather jacket fluttered to the ground…
But all that was forgotten as he turned to see his brother go down.
As Erik introduced his kisser to the dirt, the skinwalker went, as it was called by his ‘handler,’ once upon a Roman nightmare, “bat shit, get outta his frikken WAY.” When angered beyond consoling, there really was only one route that the man was likely to take, in order to fix the situation to his liking.
Aka, goodbye Ty, hello crazy ass berserker.
The knuckle blades whined through the air as the Roman surged through the swarming assassins. Blood misted the air, fur flying and battle cries replacing lethal growling. One downward swipe had a shifter reeling back with a scream, clawed hands flying up to the bleeding crevice here its nose had just been. Teeth sank into the pliant flesh of his shoulder, but he didn’t feel the pain, instead using the close quarters to backslap the face behind him, the blade cutting through fragile bones like a hot knife through butter.
Bodies flew and hit the ground, while the wood seemed to come alive around them. With a snarl, one final assassin thrown to the side sans a forearm brought him standing in front of his friend, knees bent in a defensive crouch and hands up in the ready.
“Wake up, you sack ‘a shit, Celt!” He snarled over his shoulder, grunting as a fully changed wolf tried to knock him away from its prey. “Gods, I’ve gotta do all the work around here…” He clamped his hands around snapping jaws, ignoring the pain in his palms as sharp teeth dug in, and yanked. With another battle cry, he tossed the now severed jaw away from its previous owner and snarled at the regrouping shifters. Somewhere in the distance, he could have sworn he saw the outline of a woman, as the trees around them twisted and danced as if they had a mind of their own. But another wave of attack had him focusing on the assassins instead.
“That’s it?” The skinwalker sneered, bloody face contorted in a nasty smile. “I know old women who fight better than you fuckers. You want the Celt? Come and get him. COME ON!”
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Post by Misery Martinique on Dec 22, 2009 7:41:30 GMT -5
Misery ran head first into the mêlée; wild eyes focused on nothing but Erik; dark hair whipping against her flushed cheeks. She had never seen him fight so fiercely; as if every part of his body anticipated the attacker’s next move. He was a warrior; all fists and muscle and teeth exposed like the savage beast that lived within him.
The roots that had sprouted up had joined with snaking vines that slithered across the ground; grabbing aggressors and ankles, legs, and arms; they broke easily with the thrashing; fine, delicate things that they were. Some of them were bursting with vibrant winter buds. It was the roots that held them; strong, woody, powerful appendages sticking straight up from the earth.
It was a deep magic that the witch had never felt before now. It radiated through her like a warm light; extending out of her to move the nearby tree limbs. They reached out like wooden hands. Another brute has joined the tussle, and from his actions Misery could tell he was fighting with her ex-lover, not against him. As she neared, the witch did what any rational woman would do; she leapt on the back of a large black wolf, clutching the thing by the long hair behind his head. Misery wasn’t physically stronger than the beast, but had enough wits to steer him towards a massive reaching root.
She rolled off its wide shoulders just in time; the root ceased the creature and disappeared with it down into the black earth below them. It was then did Misery see that Erik had not recovered from his wounds. “Erik!” She wailed and scurried on hands and knees toward the fallen warrior. “No!” she screamed when she lifted his head into her lap and no breath escaped him.
Tears streaming down her glistening face; Misery closed her eyes and threw her head back; a tumble of ancient words hissing through her dark lips like corporal ghosts. One by one the fallen monsters began to twitch and shift; the dead rising to take down their living brethren. At Misery’s will, they would leave Erik and the other be. It was her curse as well as her gift; this knack with the dead. Perhaps that was why anything she loved breathed their last breath at her touch...
It was all that was left within her. If more came, let them take her. If Erik was really gone from the world, she was dead inside.
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Post by erik on Dec 29, 2009 11:21:33 GMT -5
With yelps of pain and rage, the remaining weres that had been on the verge of joining the fight tucked tail and ran from the savage brutality that had been dealt out. Some satisfaction was had by the sight of the mighty Celt falling but they knew he was by no means finished. They had caught him off guard for the first time in centuries but their edge of suprise was gone. He would no longer be unsuspecting in his endeavors and the chance to take him out was gone.
Lying upon the cool ground, Erik heard Ty's snarl from a great distance but his injuries were so intense that he drifted in and out of concienceness. His last sight haunted him as he envisioned Misery and reached for her through the midst of his pain filled soul. In some ways, he was grateful for the vision even if it meant he was truly dieing. After all, after their bitter parting, he knew that was the only way she'd ever come to him again and the only way he could have her.
Cursing Nellie once more, the celtic wolf became aware of his head resting on something soft and hot splashs on his face. Frowning a bit, his eyes fluttered and then the thick blond lashes lifted so that agony riddled sapphires glittered up at the woman holding him. It was Misery but she looked like a vengeful goddess bent on revenge and destruction. What had happened to bring that fury upon her?
Just the thought of someone hurting her made him want to roar in anger but the sight before him didn't make any sense in his current state of mind. Bemusement and confusion warred in the wolf's eyes before he groaned and his body spasmed from the shearing pain his injuries caused.
"By the Gods..." he groaned before reaching for his woman. "Lass... Misery..... "
Hissing against the pain the movement cause, Erik tried to push himself up and look around. Shaking his head to clear the spider like cobwebs of shadow, he almost fell to the ground again before seeing what he had thought a dead were turn on its brethren and rip it apart. Was he really seeing this? Or were his wounds more serious than he thought and this was Nel's idea of a twisted joke?
Turning his attention back to the woman beside him, he didn't know whether to haul her into his arms and kiss her senseless or berate her for endangering herself so severely. As he thought about what COULD have happened, he had to bite his tongue as he watched her strike out again at another fleeing opponent and he was suddenly forced to the realization that Misery didn't NEED his protection... She had enough power of her own to handle her own business.
Looking back, Erik realized that he'd never really seen her like this. The site was as suprising as it was arousing but sudden insight told him it shouldn't have been. To long he'd been possessed by the desire to protect and cosset her when this woman wasn't the type to meekly stand safely in the shadows. This was a woman to have beside him and fight to the death for. The realization set him back on his heels even as he knew that he'd always loved her but loved her more in this moment.
Talk about running into a fricken brick wall, huh? What did a guy have to do to see what was right in front of him? Get his ass kicked by a pack of slobbering weres and have his woman and best friend save his sorry ass? Suddenly feeling like the biggest idiot on the face of the planet, Erik reached for the witch and yanked her into his arms. Ignoring the agony the actions cause, he caught her face in one rough palm and lower his lips to hers in a message as old and as masculine as time.
" féin am amadán" (I have been a fool) he muttered in his ancient language as he pulled back to rest his forehead against hers. "Ni neart go cur le cheile. Tha gaol agam ort."(There is no strength without unity and my heart is yours. I love you.)
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Post by Misery Martinique on Dec 30, 2009 11:30:23 GMT -5
At the sound of his voice, Misery was moved in some profound part of her that she believed she had pushed deep down. Cobwebs fell from the black hole in her chest and her heart started pumping again. Her dark eyes came open and were immediately caught in his unfathomable steel blue gaze; a gasp torn from her lips as he begun to move around; taking in the carnage all around them.
He was alive.
The witch could only watch in wonder as Erik pushed himself up on his hands and glanced around. The sudden realization that the Celt wasn’t dead was like a light glowing bright within her. How odd the sensation that stole through her; she felt like twirling. Suddenly the man she’d once trusted and loved like no other grasped her and pulled her to his lips. He uttered words the witch had never heard before, but ones that she felt so deeply, she understood them. As his mouth found hers, she felt as if she were breathing for the first time in ages. Unbidden; Misery curled her fragile fingers into his tousled wheat colored curls and devoured him as if she were starving; he was a meal for her soul. Every nerve in her body came alive. Flames licked at her insides. If she could crawl inside this man right now she wouldn’t be nearly as close to him as she needed to be.
And then pain drop-kicked her in the chest. If he had really loved her, he would have never walked away. Erik had been this close for God knew how long; but he’d never once sought her out. He’d let her believe him dead; or worse, a slave to her; the goddess.
With a will she didn’t feel; Misery pulled away from her ex-lover and the fire that had only moments before licked at her insides, now blazed in her caustic glare and the acid that dripped from her tongue. “You better be glad you’re wounded already Wolf, or I’d make you bleed for that.” Misery spat at him and wiped the back of her hand across her lips; swollen from the whiskers on his face. No way in hell it was that easy. So what if he’d tasted like Ambrosia and every fiber in her body ached to hold him? Love was such a stupid thing. Her heart; too damaged to be trusted.
Misery pulled herself to stand and stumbled backwards; her obsidian eyes scanning the carnage. She tugged her long skirt up off the ground and one hand; stepping casually backwards as a pool of dark crimson oozed towards her bare feet. Her gaze danced around the fallen, broken bodies and Misery’s brow tightened as they found a lifeless tree root wrapped around one large bloody wolf. Her gaze lifted to the bare-headed warrior and then flickered to Erik’s beaten face. She winced at the sight. Even wounded; he was a God. Damn, how she hated him.
“Who’s the fighter?” Misery asked nonchalantly as she steeped over one corpse and moved towards Erik. He was like some freaking magnet. She wanted to strangle him; but she had to be near him.
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Post by tyrese on Jan 6, 2010 15:52:24 GMT -5
Gods, it felt good to be in the game again. Forget the random hunting he did on the side, when being cooped up on his mountain was too much to bear. Forget the fights in the club, the random altercations in darkened alleyways…
There just wasn’t anything like the thrill of having a purpose. Of fighting and having a reason in his head for why the living, breathing things in front of him had to meet ‘ol Styx before his own soul was ferried across to whatever Hell awaited. He hadn’t had a feeling like this in quite some time, and color him a bit disappointed when the were’s turned tail and ran.
“That it?” He called after then, dropping the cooling corpse of an unlucky assassin who’d gotten too close to one of his bloodied mitts. “THAT’S what you call trying to kill a guy? Hades’ Ballsack, come back when you guys grow some! Maybe even bring a real challenge, you fuckin’ pansies!”
And as the shifters disappeared into the woods, blobs of black and brown against the darkened green, those old, familiar chains fell back on his shoulders. No one left to fight…and life went on.
Gods damn, he did hate it when he got in these dark moods. It was time for some verbal sparring, before he managed to beat himself to death out of pure disgust.
Movement and the soft murmur of voices pulled him back to reality, and Ty turned with a grunt. Sticky blood clung to his clothes and arms, but it was probably the feral smile on his face that would mark him as someone less than sane. And look at that; the fight had ended just in time for some kind of romantic reunion.
Gag him and light him on fuckin’ fire. Gods in Heaven, the wolf had almost gotten himself skinned and he was trying to woo a wench. Did the man EVER turn off that godsdamn charm? And…wait, hold the phone and whatever euphemisms people used these days. Had he just said he loved her?! As in love, that ever endearing word that people either threw out for free sex or an actual expression of true emotion? Surely it was just the former; the shifter was just out of his mind with pain and thinking of a man’s favorite past time in his wounded state…
Then again, with the venom in said wench’s voice as she replied, it was obvious that this wasn’t a normal ‘I love you Bob! I love you too, Susan!’ Well, now he had the green for treading lightly.
Moving over to Erik’s side, he shrugged off his leather jacket and draped it over his friend’s bare parts with a muttered ‘before I go blind,' before turning back to the woman.
"Who the hell're you?" Eyeing her for a minute, he shook his head and looked down at the shifter. “Never mind, I don’t give a shit right now. You, my friend,” He squatted down and prepared to help his friend stand, or to- well, he’d been naked a time or two when he’d needed a hand…but he couldn’t help but inwardly sigh anyway- carry him back to the cabin. “Are lying buck naked in a forest with a bunch of sissy assassins out in the bush somewhere. I think the best thing for all of us is to get back to your little stick house, and come up for reasons why they wanna gut you so bad.”
With a sideways glance at Misery as he braced himself for the discomfort of supporting a man while demanding sinews to keep his arms from falling off, he couldn’t help but reply through slightly gritted teeth. “’The fighter’s’ name’s Ty, and he’s tired, bleeding and really, really pissed off. Since you seemed to like helping before, how about you lend a hand and get your…friend back to his cabin before he makes the forest creatures go blind with his pasty ass?”
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Post by erik on Jan 6, 2010 19:13:00 GMT -5
All right, so maybe if he hadn’t been in so much pain, he’d have reacted to Misery’s last jab. As it stood though, it was all Erik could do to keep the world from going pitch black and falling on his ass again as he tried to right himself. Although the god damned son of a bitchs hadn’t succeeded in their over all endeavor, they HAD scored a few good hits. While he might be immortal, he could still be wounded and it would take him a bit of time to completely heal.
A quick check over his injuries left his with no doubt that a few ribs were busted, a shoulder dislocated and to many numerous slashes to count. That added to the god awful headache he was sporting added up to one whipped puppy, pun not withstanding. If it hadn’t been for Tyreese and Misery… Well, it was safe to say he’d be dealing with the bitch goddess right now and it wouldn’t have been a bed of roses.
Groaning, Erik became aware of Ty at his side and the man helping to lift his sorry ass into standing position. Walking on his own strength would have been to much to ask and that pissed him off more than anything else. If there was anything that he hated most it was not being in control but at the moment.. Well, he was just going to have to hand those keys over to Ty and Misery. It was taking all his strength just to remain with two feet on the ground.
“Son of a bitch.. Did anyone get the license numbers on those dogs? I think someone should call out the pound patrol.. Oh wait…Shit.… that’s right.. That would be me.” He growled and snarled as he leaned into his best friend and saw blood pool on the ground beside him. “I’m going to hunt those assholes down and permenantly remove their freaking heads.”
Then, hearing Ty speak to Misery, his head snapped around and his eyes glowed with fierce need to protect his woman.
“Watch your mouth, boy… That’s my woman your speaking too.” He hissed even through the pain. “And as far as my pansy ass… I’ve saved your sorry one a time or two so don’t be copping an attitude. I may be down but I’m far from out and I’ll still wipe the ground with you.”
Even though they all knew it was just talk, Erik was serious in his threat about Misery. No one tongue lashed her and got away with it.. Even his best friend. There were some lines a man didn't cross and a man's mate was one of them. He spoken of Misery enough to Ty that he had no doubt that his friend would put two and two together eventually. Then, Erik might really have his hands full as he had no doubt the pair would TRULY square off.
"Misery.... Please come to the cabin... You might as well hear this too... Shit is hitting the fan in New Orleans and I have a feeling this is just the beginning."
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Post by Misery Martinique on Jan 11, 2010 6:52:56 GMT -5
Misery narrowed her dark eyes on Ty; her upper lip curled up in abhorrence. She honestly didn’t care who he was but for the fact that she’d just helped him out in a fight she had nothing to do with and the witch would have appreciated some gratitude. If she felt anything for the man it probably would have been sympathy, as his body was riddled with gaping wounds dripping dark crimson all over his tawny skin. But she had no room in her heart for sympathy; nor did she have room for the slight awe at his sheer size and the way he handled those assailants had been nothing less than terrifying.
At his disrespect toward her and then Erik’s quick defense of her, Misery just blinked in surprise. If the wolf hadn’t been so wounded she would have been quick to point out to the both of them that that ship had sailed. As far as the witch was concerned she had ceased being his ‘woman’ the morning she woke up to find him gone.
Keeping her mouth shut on that subject for now Mis moved to help Ty; wrapping an arm around Erik’s waist and tucking herself under his arm to support the weight. Mentally berating herself for feeling a surge of joy at the closeness, a scowl crept across her face at the Wolf’s invitation and dire tone. “Don’t tell me. You’ve got fleas and need help with a dip.” The witch drawled sarcastically, rolling her russet eyes as they limped slowly toward the cabin.
The question was meant to be a jab, of course, but she still had to wonder what had the Wolf so serious, especially after a good fight. If it had anything do to with the bitch goddess she was going to make good on the threat she’d recently made to him.
It seemed to take forever but the trio finally made it to the cabin and Misery was relieved when she got him inside and could put some distance between them. The warmth of his skin and than familiar scent of spices and earth that had always made her want to take a bite out of him was making it hard to keep her resolve. Images of that last night they had shared at his cabin before returned like an angry apparition; cold and untouchable. They played havoc on her already injured spirit.
Angry that reveries she had promised herself not to think about ever again had come bubbling to the surface so easily; Misery crossed her arms over her chest and glared icily at them. She needed to get out of there and fast; before the knife was pushed in any deeper. It had been a mistake to come here. She knew that now. Forgiveness was a virtue the witch had never possessed.
“What do you want Wolf?” Misery spat; throwing daggers at him with her defiant stare. “Go on and spit it out. I’d rather raise up those dead wolves and play fetch than spend another minute with you and cue ball there.”
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Post by tyrese on Jan 15, 2010 16:27:30 GMT -5
Well, tie him up and flay him alive; Erik was actually getting snippy over a woman. His brows shot up as the wolf turned to growl at him, eyes flashing in a show of anger that the skinwalker rarely saw…especially when directed at him. Gods, who the hell was the human woman, that she got him so worked up—
And then, like a mental slap to the face, he had a memory of his quiet friend mumbling something about ‘the one he let go.’
Ye Gods, he was caught in a romantic drama. Erik, who loved his woman and let her go, and the woman who loved Erik and…
It was hard, but Ty managed to bite back a laugh as she turned to snarl at the shifter. It was so obvious that there was something between them, but there was definitely a wall of resistance that had been put up by the woman. From the way she glared at his friend, spat out a response for their return to the cabin, insulted him…Gods, it reminded him of his own married days. He did his best not to think too much about it, but seeing those two grump and growl at each other? He couldn’t help but remember a situation, involving some broken pottery and lipstick on his neck.
Ah, Silliana. How he did miss the old days.
With an almost brutal shove, he managed to tamp down those annoying wispy feelings. With things scurrying out in the bush, now wasn’t exactly the time to get nostalgic. He was tired, sore and bleeding all over the damn place; he had to keep his wits about him or die. And while the latter sounded really appealing at the moment, he at least had to think about his friend and…mate.
Supporting Erik and hoping to all that was holy that the assassins didn’t jump out again, he couldn’t help but bare his teeth in the semblance of a smile as he finally replied. “’Boy?’ Yeah, I think we’re gonna have some words about that one, once you can stand on your own,” Normally, this would have been the point where he would kick some lily white ass, but they weren’t normal circumstances. And thank the Gods for small favors; he just managed to bite back a sigh of relief when the familiar outline of the cabin came into view.
The stairs were tricky, but they made it up and, after he used one booted foot to kick the door open- yeah, yeah, don’t destroy the house; he knew- into the little house. Setting his friend down on the couch in front of the hearth, he knelt down to start up a fire.
Then ignored the warning voice in the back of his head and glared right back at Misery. Erik’s mate or no, her tone of voice was beginning to irritate the fuckin’ hell outta him. And given that he was already pissed off, it was safe to say that his room upstairs might be calling to him very, very soon.
“Cue ball?” He drawled, slowly rising to his feet to eye the smaller woman. “I kind of like that one, but Gods, we’re all just happy with the nicknames today, aren’t we? But the chit has a point, brother. Why were those furballs after you?”
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Post by erik on Jan 17, 2010 17:52:50 GMT -5
Ok, so maybe he had some of the witchs anger coming but he wasn't at his best at the moment. He was hurting and pissed and it took all his will to tamp down the edge of anger that rode his emotions. He knew she didn't see what he'd had to do at the time in the same light as he did but he also knew there hadn't been any choice at the time. And if this was any indication of the feelings she bore him, he sure as hell wasn't going to give her any more ammunition to toss at his already bruised heart.
Letting Ty help him towards his cabin, Erik held himself together by pure will. Even as pain lanced through his body, he allowed himself to reveal in it as it was an escape from the agony in his heart. It gave him release from the emotions swirling dangerously close to the exploding limit and time to get a grip. Misery's touch at his side brought him back to reality and he couldn't hid his hiss of suprise. She was obviously pissed as hell at him but she was still out here trying to help save his ugly hide and helping to get him back to his place? He'd have to store that information way for later thought.
As the unlikely trio traversed the woods, Erik was grateful that they'd both shown up. He wasn't sure who the hell those were's had been but if they'd gotten up the nerve to try to take out the most powerful shifter in the area.... Shit was getting deep. They had to believe they had the backing of someone powerful or they never would have attempted to take out the alpha of the ruling council. His status as such lent him the power of an enforcer and the culprits had to know an execution order for there lives would go out in the event of their failure.
Finally reaching the cabin, Erik allowed the two to get him inside and then growled as he sat down. Misery immediately distanced herself from him and that made him even more snarly than before. Her words, however, brought a rueful smile to his bloodied face.
“What do you want Wolf?” Misery spat; throwing daggers at him with her defiant stare. “Go on and spit it out. I’d rather raise up those dead wolves and play fetch than spend another minute with you and cue ball there.”
Leaning forward, Erik sighed tiredly and put his head in his hands. Trying to gather his thoughts, he was aware of his brother in arms nearby.
“Cue ball?” He drawled, slowly rising to his feet to eye the smaller woman. “I kind of like that one, but Gods, we’re all just happy with the nicknames today, aren’t we? But the chit has a point, brother. Why were those furballs after you?”
Lifting his cool silver blue gaze, Erik looked at the pair of them a long moment before answering.
"Well hell.. aint that the million dollar question? I suspect it has something to do with the whispers I've been hearing about someone trying to sway the supernatural side of the tracks over into demon territory. Theres a war going on, boys and girls, and shit is hitting the fan. An informant told me that someone is making waves in the were community about joining the dark side and making a play for world domination. Seems someone has been promising a new order where humans are cattle for free slaughter and some of the species think its a grand idea."
Wincing, Erik pushed to his feet and limped over to the side bar. Pulling out a bottle of ancient scotch, he poured three stiff lengths out and then tossed his back before filling it again. Turning back, he handed one to Ty and offered one to Misery.
"Theres also rumor out about some kind of seal that can bring this war to a close or give the demons free rein.... It could be an attempt at a distraction to give the hell spawn more time to find it.. Take out one leader and you have disorder in the ranks...."
Shrugging, Erik went back for his second drink and closed his eyes for a moment with his back to the others.
"And thats not to mention the ones who would like to see me dead for more.. personal reasons.... "
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Post by Misery Martinique on Jan 18, 2010 10:23:24 GMT -5
It tore Misery up to see the pain Erik was in. As much as she wanted to hate him for leaving; for not trusting in her abilities to stand by his side against the goddess, she couldn’t ignore the utter devotion she still felt towards him. There was an unbreakable bond that connected them. A thousand strands of silvery fibers that went from her soul to his; the filaments were wrapped around her heart and had twisted themselves throughout her spirit. If only the witch could cut that tie; then perhaps she could stop feeling the ache in her chest that grew each moment she stayed near him.
Making a childish face at Erik’s friend when he returned her ire, Misery couldn’t help the amused smile that curved up the corner of her lip when Ty returned his attentions back to the shifter. The man had an attitude to rival even the Wolf’s, something she couldn’t help but find endearing. Most people couldn’t handle her thorny manner, which of course was one reason she’d been so utterly attracted to the Wolf. He’d taken her fire and always returned it with more heat; something that made her body warm just thinking about it.
Misery grimaced when she watched Erik pull himself up and limp over to the bar. She could read the tenderness in his face and in the way he resisted putting weight on one of his legs. It irked her that she wanted to ease some of that pain. After all, it was what he deserved for making her hurt so bad. Though her pain hadn’t been from physical wounds, the heartache she felt had been enough to cripple her for months.
Sighing quietly, Misery rubbed at a spot on her forehead as she listened to the unfortunate events that were taking place all around them. Demons, the supernatural war, and hell on earth...it was enough to make the witch sick to her stomach. Why couldn’t the stinkin’ devils just stay down below and torture each other? Misery had never cared for getting involved in that conflict, but now it seemed there was no way around it if she wanted to stay above ground.
She made her way over to the bar where Erik had poured them all a shot and swallowed the rich amber liquid with a wince. If they were gonna’ have a conversation about saving the world she might as well get a good buzz. Besides, his latter comment reminded her that there was one other topic they hadn’t breeched, which was an other worldly female deity that Misery couldn’t believe had let him go so easily...
“So...does any one know if there’s any truth behind this seal mumbo-jumbo?” Misery asked and helped herself to another shot, wiping across her lips with the back of her hand. She coughed as the liquid burned a trail down her throat and then settled in her belly nice and balmy like. The werewolf always did have good taste in liquor.
Waiting for the men to continue on with the conversation, Misery wandered into the kitchen and quietly returned with two rags damp with hot water. She offered one to Ty, tapping a place on her own forehead to indicate where his was caked with dried blood, and then carefully pressed the other to Erik’s arm that was splayed open and pouring blood like a fount. She winced as she put pressure on the wound and then looked up at him, her dark eyes full of concern. “The world can be falling down all around us...” She said quietly, caught in his gaze for a moment before forcing her eyes to Ty’s. “And it won’t do us any good if y’all die from infection. We really should get you all cleaned up. I’ve got some potions in my JEEP if y’all think those things are gone for now...”
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Post by tyrese on Jan 21, 2010 22:54:51 GMT -5
Well, he had to hand it to his friend; Erik was made up of some tough ass shit there. One brow raised slightly as the shifter pushed himself to his feet, shuffling over to the bar to pour himself a drink. With wounds like those, one would imagine that the guy would at least like to be passed out…Gods, he could actually see bone and sinew moving through the gashes on his side! But hell if he was going to say anything.
A warrior knew when to keep his mouth shut when it came to a brother in arms. Not to mention that the guy had to be playing it up for his woman. Hiding a smirk as he downed the shot of whiskey he was handed, Ty watched the two, reading body movements and those little ‘covert’ glances that each were tossing at one another. It was taking ALL of his self control not to walk over and give each a healthy smacking.
Didn’t they know that what they had was something to be held onto with both hands? From what Erik had told him in the past, and from how Misery was trying her damndest not to look to worried about her man- yeah, he could read that tense set to her muscles real well- they were both sporting that big, nasty ‘L’ word right on their godsdamn foreheads.
Foreheads that he was going to knock together, at some point. Gods, when did he become an old, matchmaking woman? Well, his matan (mother) would be proud, if she were still alive to see it.
At the thought of assassins turning to ‘personal reasons’ to take the shifter out, Ty couldn’t help but let loose an unhappy rumble at the fact. Ah, how he’d love to have another round with those sissies! He rolled his shoulders, ignoring the pull and sting and relished in the feeling of a fight won. Life and death right on the brink, blood pumping and adrenaline surging through his veins…man, there just wasn’t anything like that kind of rush. He could just LIVE off that shit.
“Oh, there’s truth to it,” He said with a dark little smile, eyes flickering to Misery. He had to hand it to his friend; the woman was a looker. “And there’s the Party of Demons that just came into the restaurant, lookin’ for us to be the main course.”
Turning back to the fire, he leaned on the brick, bracing one bloody arm against it. He couldn’t help the surprised look that came onto his face before he hid it behind his normal snarky expression, and accepted the towel with a small nod.
He laughed at her next comment, shaking his head as he wiped away some of the dirt and grime. “It’ll take more than a few scrapes to kill either of us, woman, but thanks for the concern. Feels nicer than getting my ass whipped by that tongue of yours.”
A small grin made sure that his words didn’t seem too cutting, but something told him that the headstrong woman might see them as a compliment. Turning his attention back to Erik, as his explanation sank in, the skinwalker just grimaced. “If there’s a head of this snake that needs cutting,” He said, a wolfish smile sliding onto his lips. “You know that I’m in. Just give me the name of that little instigator, brother, and he’ll be dead before sunrise.”
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