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 You're Like a Mirror, Reflecting Me, OPEN || WOLVES
Ethan Chandler
 Posted: Jun 30, 2015 | 6:54 am
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Rick Talbot
player: Piper
39 posts

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Ethan wanted to rip out his own teeth.

It was the primary thought in his mind as he lay hunched over in the dirt, his hands digging into the earth beneath him. His breath across his tearing incisors was enough to send a lance through his jaw, sliding like a blade down his neck and collarbone. His head was on fire, but that was for a number of other reasons, mainly because his own brain was screaming out to him, sending out mixed signals to his muscles and bones. The only way his body could translate the confusion was in the default that all creatures on God's green Earth could understand: Pain.

He could already feel the specks of soil embed themselves under his fingernails, and the wet mud seep through the cloth of his pants. They were sensations that were getting farther and farther away from him as the lump forming in his throat forced its way up. He swallowed, hard, and managed to keep it down for one more moment. He would not let it go. Not yet. He would not let it win, even if that victory could only be for precious seconds. It meant that for those last few ticks of the clock he could be himself. He was Ethan. He was He. He was not It.

He didn't understand. What was even happening? It was no where near the time of the full moon. It was why he had been caught so off guard by the sudden effects of the transformation. He watched the calendar carefully, every day ticking down the next time of the coming of the Monster. He watched his monks hook consumption carefully, always upping the dosage on those three Devil Nights. What wolfsbane could not keep at bay, the dullness of alcohol could, and, God willing, every month he was able to keep the creature inside him from taking a life for one more moon cycle.

But this... This was not right. The time was all wrong. Now was not the time for this particular nightmare. His New Moon dreams were very different from his Full Moon phantasms. If one thing could be said about Ethan Chandler it was that he was familiar with his demons, and the dark night sky brought not the blood and sinew, but the woeful memory of warm hands and hot lips, of skin sliding against his. Of her eyes. Of his hair. Of her dress. Of his waistcoat. What it felt like to have all of it surrendering in his hands, under his gaze, against his body. The new moon brought loneliness and longing and knowledge that he would never see or be with those he loved again. Their familiar silhouettes appear ed between the trees, dark sprites that beckoned for him to follow, shadows as empty as their promises that he would be with then again.

He knew something was wrong when the ghosts of Vanessa and Dorian were swallowed by the mists. It had been like a hurricane wrapped up by a sandstorm, and it took him fighting and clawing away from the familiar wasteland to a waking nightmare. Either way, he was lost in the woods, only not his sense of self was rapidly slipping away from him, and the Other was Here.

He cringed against the pain, and could feel his spine rend and mend and rend again to form the shape that it wanted to be, Ethan's wishes be damned. His hips and shoulders soon followed, and he fell deeper and deeper down and down. With a sudden start he remembered the pouch he kept about his neck, a satchel of his medicine bag kept under his shirt, close to his sternum. His fingers were too long to be anything graceful, but he had to try. He pulled at the cord, the tear away knot slipping free with the insistent tug. He clutched it tightly, holding the bag as if he last hope lay within the simple linen, clutching too tight, wishing too hard. It was when he tried to open the bag that the shaking began. His breathing hitched, refusing to use those human lungs to breath. His rubs cracked and he fell to the ground, body curled as the cage of his chest collapsed and reformed.

The wolfsbane was gone, scattered on the ground in his trashes, and from his placed curled on the ground he could watch the dried herbs scatter into the wind, leaving no where near enough in the dirt around him. Maybe he would have wept. Maybe he would cried out Maybe he would have shouted against the unfairness of it all. But Ethan had nothing left in him to fight. Partially in pain, partially in surrender, Ethan closed his chestnut eyes into the dirt. That familiar lump pushed its way forward and this time he did not fight it. Pulling himself to his four limbs, knees digging roughly turned his go the blood red sky. His eye locked with the Red Moon, and he understood, amber eyes holding the sight of the high lunar sphere until they pinched shut. His lips curled, his spine arched, and the Wolf howled into the night.


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Fiona Leary
 Posted: Jul 1, 2015 | 11:57 pm
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Finannuala
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It had been difficult to deal with the last few weeks by herself. Those she had come to rely on had abandoned her and it stung her heart. Biting her lip she looked around the forest that she had holed up in while she was here. She was lucky that she had enough skills to survive on her own. She’d had to. She couldn’t risk being found out as a swanmane.

She hoped everything would settle out but she was sad. It seemed to her that she made friends and lost them easily. Part of her blamed herself. If she had been better, less cursed, spent less time as a swan and more time with her friends. Maybe then they wouldn’t leave her. Tears started to fill her eyes and she brushed them aside. Tears were easy to hide; the hole in her heart was less so. She should have known nothing in this life was constant. Nothing stayed the same as much as she wished it.

After a thousand years and seeing so many beings pass on to the next world the former fae princess found herself at a bit of a loss. Where would her life take her? Would she finally be useful to someone or would she continue to live on the fringes of society, barely leaving more than a whisper in her wake? Only time would tell. Absently, Fiona brushed aside a fire kissed curl as deep as chocolate on a winter’s night.

Taking a moment she glanced about to see if she recognized any of the trees here. It was unlikely given that this was an ancient forest but one never knew when things would happen. She felt a pull something calling to her. Was it the moon or a swanmane like herself? Could it be another being that was forced to turn at night? She had no idea but she had to try and find them before her own transformation began.

Gently she brushed a stray leaf off her long flowing skirt. It was a better option than walking around in something that might be considered scandalous or get her branded as easy even if it wasn’t the most practical. She didn’t want to start her time out in this place on the wrong foot. There would be time enough for mistakes without openly inviting them upon herself by not being careful. Gently she tossed her curly brown locks over her shoulder. The moonlight of the evening made her dark tresses burn with an inner fire and her eyes seem as dark as the mahogany tables that many a peasant dined off of. Her transformation was coming. She could feel it but something was urging her onward and holding it off.

Then she heard the deep resonating howl; a predator. That in and of itself wasn’t a bad thing, but it would do to be cautious. She had no idea if this was a lone wolf or the gathering of a pack. When she moved closer she could see a shape outlined in the moonlight. Transforming as she stood there.

Her instinct to help kicked in and she moved within his visual range slowly approaching unless he gave her a reason not to. Carefully she moved forward. Kneeling down and getting on her hands and knees so as not to give as little a chance of threat as she could manage. Her brown eyes met his own and as she knelt there, close enough for him to see her but not so close as to make him feel threatened. As the light reflected off of his eyes, pain glowing in their depths, her own shown a deeper shade of burnt orange in the moonlight; Shifter to shifter. Slowly she tried signing,

How can I help you?” she asked with her hands. The graceful motion fluid with centuries of practice. Her eyes showed concern for his state. She hated that he was in pain and as the moon rose higher she glanced at it. It was time to face her fears and come out of the shadows.


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Tagged: Ethan, Open
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The Huntsman
 Posted: Oct 13, 2015 | 3:09 pm
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Sheriff Graham Humbert
player: Jax
54 posts

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There are nights when the wolves are silent and only the moon howls.
The moon was full, and she was restless, and she was taking her children with her. Fits of hunger and rage were mingling with the lust for flesh and flight. A rolling mood was prevalent through the pack, along with the cries of men who bemoaned their fate. These were men who were barely at peace with themselves. They were men who knew that the alternative was to be a ravening, raging beast with no control over himself. These were men who had fought for what little control that they had gained over their years with their fur, and they were men who were hanging onto the brink even now. The moon made it hard for them. She never rested. Never set. Hell, she never even let the light flicker beyond the blood red that drowned the scenery. The world was bathed in her blood, and it did little to help the mind of the Beast.

For many of these men, this was their greatest fear… to be a mindless beast. To relinquish their freedom to the hunger. Maybe that was why Graham was having an easier go at it than them. The day he found he was a wolf was the day he found an aspect of freedom that he had long forgotten, not some bars or chains to hold him back. His shifts (what few he had gone through since his First Moon) were painless, the first one only being difficult because he had been unprepared. What difficulties he did have, he trusted in the aid of his Alpha. Red showed him the way with everything that was new, and he had been more like a child or a pup learning how to walk than a man fighting some inner monster. Red had used words like “precious” and “adorable,” but he was competent, and proved it with his loyalty. Red must have seen something in him… Even as a Cliath, he had been moved to the rank of Beta under the great Red Lucas of Misthaven, and all of her pack.

No… the wolf was not Graham’s deepest nightmare…

The Huntsman knew better than to dwell on the darkness within. There were more important things than the demons of his mind. Red. Pack. Survive. Those things were keeping him plenty occupied, that was certain. He was concerned for Red. They had talked about her mental state, the pits of her melancholy, and what that might mean for the pack, and the lengths she was willing to go to in order to make sure that the worst didn’t happen. Graham knew something had happened… he sensed it over the pack link, no matter how much she tried to shield from her own. The pack was hers, and she was their Alpha, and in being a good Alpha, she kept so much close to her own heart. But there had been a change.. He didn’t know the exact length of time ago. Days all blended into one as things were now. But there was a calm among the pack that he had not witnessed since they all arrived back in the Enchanted Forest.

It was through that calm that he heard it… The piercing sound of a wolf in pain. A wolf that was not one of their own. So who? How many other packs in Misthaven (if there were any left) would dare to come so close to Red’s during this time of conflict? Or was it a rogue, lone wolf, so dangerous that his own pack ejected him, or so weak that they had turned him away? Or maybe (and Graham didn’t know if this was better or worse) it was some newly afflicted soul, living through his First Moon in the light of the Blood? Perhaps it was not a wolf at al…

He flexed his nose into the wind, scenting it, marking the direction that howl was from. He had to look… It could be a threat. It could be a victim. The curious breed of his mind made him want to investigate as much as his drive to protect his pack. But he would not bring others with him. If it was nothing, he would be a laughing stock, and if it was something than he would be dragging others to danger. Besides, they were only a pack link away, and so with a nonchalant salutation, he turned from the pack and sprinted into the forest. His half shifted form, while it started off with an ungraceful lumber into the forest, was quick and lithe, and carried him through the woods surely, and while he ran, he made sure to speak over the pack link to Red. Alone.

There’s a howl on the wind… made by skin crawl. No names. No pack. I think it’s a wolf in pain… I am going to find out, but… His instinct, be it animal or cop, flared up. We need you. He wouldn’t have asked if he didn’t feel it. He needed his Alpha. He needed his friend.

He picked up speed through the forest, hearing the sounds of an animal coming again and again through the trees. In their way, the trees created sound columns for the howls and growls to echo off of, and it made honing in on the origin of them difficult, even to Graham’s ears. Once he got the source down, though, and once he caught the scent on the wind of the wolf and the blood and fear, tracking was a quick task. But as he approached where he was certain the other wolf was, he caught another scent on the air. It was distinct, and it made his stomach roll tight with anticipation, and the hungry wolf of his mind wanted a closer look. It was something sweet, something that he knew would taste wonderful if he could just get the blood on his tongue. Prey…

He pushed harder, wondering what it was that this lone wolf might have found for himself, pushing the primal hunger down, promising the wolf that once all of this was over than they could have their own private Hunt. With that, his wolf settled back against his skin like a cool brush of refreshing water just as he burst through the trees and into the clearing.

He did not have long to react to the scene that was already in motion before him. There was the wolf, the representation of everything a reluctant, painful, resistant shift could be. It was the worst that he had even seen, worst that he had ever known, and it was happening right in front of a woman… a strange woman who must not know danger when she saw it. The wolf was less than an inch upon her, and all it would take was a single lunge from his jaws for her to be infected…. Or worse… Already, he could see the muscles of the wolfman’s arms and legs coil under his clothing (which, from the looks of it, were the same he must have been wearing in Storybrooke, after a week of hard wear.)

That movement of the limbs, and the rough tug at the corners of the wolf’s lips, and Graham knew what was coming next. He didn’t even slow down the stride he had from his forest run, and instead charged forward to where the lone wolf and the woman were due to collide. Instead, Graham was there, more half-man half-beast than knight in shining armor, but he hoped he could serve the same purpose. The only thing he had time for was a collision, and it was not going to be gentle. He tried to have the softer parts of him strike the woman when his body hit hers, and he took the two of them off the course that the other wolf was taking. Graham could feel the body of the rogue wolf pass over his legs, barely missing him and the woman, his jaws snapping at air where just moments ago there was the arms and face of the woman.

Graham and the girl hit the ground, and the Huntsman only hoped that he had twisted his body enough to come up with the brunt of the abuse. He rolled with the woman, now catching where the second scent on the wind had been coming from. Prey… his wolf growled again in his chest, and he quelled his own hunger with the reminder of the immediate danger they were all in. He had made sure to fall and twist so that he had come between the woman and the wolf, and he looked at her only brief enough to see if her compassion had been enough to get her hurt. Pretty little idiot… he thought, his eyes flashing at her with just a hint of threat. He didn’t want her getting up, he didn’t want her moving, he didn’t want her to make herself more of a target, and if a threat her to sit still, then a threat was what he would use. She smelled like prey. She should respond well to it.

But he could not dawdle. Already he could hear the other wolf recovering, and turning on them quickly. Without even being sure that the woman knew what the Huntsman was asking of her, he broke eye contact to turn it onto the approaching wolf. He was in that half man, half wolf form that almost every other werewolf of the Forest was stuck in. He was down on all fours, though, while many of the other wolves from his pack tried their best to remain bipedal. No… no this wolf was crazed, in pain, and the man was gone under all the instinct and ferocity. And Graham, despite his desire to not hurt the other man, could not afford to look weak or back down. There was a woman to protect, after all, not to mention his own hide, and of his approaching Alpha. So while the other wolf began to circle, Graham held his ground…

And held it still when the other wolf charged…

notes: I talked with Piper about controlling some of the actions of Ethan in this post to keep it moving and consistent. If there is anything that needs to be changed, let me know.
words: 1686 | tag: Red, Ethan, Fiona, PACK


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Red Riding Hood
 Posted: Nov 4, 2015 | 11:10 am
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Ruby Lucas
player: Jess
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The journey from the Dark One's castle was surprisingly peaceful despite the angry moon glaring down overhead. A jealous and cruel mistress, not her Lady Luna but a twisted pretender leering down in a tantrum that Red refused to listen to. Her cloak, spelled into such a gorgeous gown kept her safe; already she could hear along the Pack Link how others were faring not nearly as well. Trapped halfway between wolf and man, her wolves were braying their displeasure loudly. Hell if it had been a year or two ago she may very well be doing the exact same thing; becoming a metamorph was a recent blessing but one the others were far removed from.

It was as she thought towards her pack that a strange howl tore through the night and Red felt her spine straighten as Graham's words whispered to her in her mind. I'm on the way. Be Careful! There were no rogue wolves in her territory. She had taken care of that problem when the dispute over her mother's pack broke out into a call to the mound that she had answered swiftly and brutally. Red was not about to murder some stranger, but she was certainly not going to allow another Alpha to ruin what she had here. She was Lupa of Misthaven, and she was going to make sure no one had any ideas to question that.

Hiking her skirts up into her hands, Red blurred into the forest. Leaping and twisting over root and bramble, impressed that nothing seemed to catch to rip at the magicked fabric. The scent of fear and blood and prey was almost thick enough to choke on and the wolf swallowed down hard as her beast lazily lifted her head deep within and yawned. She came upon the scene in progress and the soft growl that rumbled in her chest spoke to her displeasure. Letting her skirts fall from her hands to flutter around her, as her shoulders pulled back and body fell into that unnatural stillness of the immortals. Graham had some poor prey smelling fool safe beneath his broad body; a testament to his control that he wasn't snapping at her neck in hunger. Watching them face off together, Red quickly took stock of the situation but not before the rogue charged. With an internal curse, Red rushed forward, grabbing the rogue by the back of his neck inches away from Graham and flipping him up and over her head in an effortless arc. Turning about, elegant and poised, Red turned to face this newcomer with her spine perfectly straight.

Enough! The word was barked out sharp, with the power of a Lupa's order behind it. The only sign of her wolf was the burning gold eyes framed in the crystalline mask, shadows deep around the hollows. As soon as he was upright, Red held his gaze firm and true; not breaking eye contact no matter what. She knew he may lunge and she would not back down from any challenge. It was a test, only another Alpha wolf would be able to hold her gaze and while he was still attack, half-crazed as he was, she could handle it if she needed to. Fear poured off of the man, and the scent of alcohol and a nose wrinkling staleness that came from not taking care of himself in some time. She felt... bad... for the man, but she needed to know how much of a threat he was to her and hers. With Graham and the girl behind her, Red no matter what had to keep this rogue's attention. The wind played at the ends of her curled and pinned hair and idly she wondered why she couldn't have had this happen when she was a touch more comfortably clad. She really didn't want to test to see if the magic that made her beautiful for once would hold up upon the Mound should things turn that way.

Graham, see if she's been infected?

Watching him critically, Red could see the pain that trembled through his body, the blood that came from digging his own claws into his back to keep himself together and the rending of flesh from an unwanted shift and immediately her heart went out to this poor pup. She could feel from his aura alone now that she had a chance to really get a good look at him that he wasn't a challenge to her, if anything he was as much a danger to himself as he was to the pair behind her. It was sad, and a flare of anger whipping through her at the thought of someone infecting this poor man and leaving him to suffer alone. But the sight of his clothes had her anxious... Was this her mistake that she just didn't notice from her drunken escapades the other day? If he was her responsibility... No matter the truth of his plight, Red's guilt insisted she do something and she resolved herself to trying to get if not the man to see past his fear than the wolf to come to heel.

”You're going to hurt yourself...”


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.::| ❦ |::.

scríobhaíso this is very late and i'm so sorry, it's just been a rough patch for me but fun times now? and it's also horrifically short but my muse has been thoroughly murdered lately.

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ina dhiaidh sinpack thread!

A D e l r i o u s D e s i g n by Jess


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Ethan Chandler
 Posted: Jan 13, 2016 | 1:23 pm
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Rick Talbot
player: Piper
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The pain under his skin was bone deep. The more he didn’t want it, the worse that it became, but the pain reminded him that in his core he didn’t want to be this monster. Every moon would come, and every moon he would fight it, and maybe one day he would be strong enough. A muscle didn’t get sturdier if it wasn’t worked out and tested, after all. This time, though, he was just too weak to fight it anymore. It had been days or weeks or years since this insane cycle had begun, and his mind had reached the tipping point. He would be surprised if his brain came back from this one, much less his body.

He heard something enter his little clearing, but for the moment the wolf was appeased to just lie and gather his energy. The moon in the sky was a blessing on his skin, shimmering like rubies through the trees. His fur was dancing in a red ocean of light, and he could feel Her calling out to him to do as dark creatures do. Hunt. Kill. Bleed. Lavish. Live Forever. Never Die. Maybe it was to be that little something’s special day, and it would get to live. He breathed in the wet moss beneath him. Maybe he would hunt it after all. He didn’t know yet. Just one more moment, though, and everyone would know.

Lucky day, little prey, run away. He could have laughed and smiled had he the anatomy to do so, but laughter was beyond him now. His internal world was pain and hunger, and his external world would suffer for it. As if his prayers to the Blood Moon were answered, he heard that sound of approaching feet on the wet ground. Her scent was all Prey as she kneeled in front of him, and his made his eye loll so wildly that he almost missed the movement of wounded birds before his face. Her hands danced in front of him, and he had his target. There was no “Ethan” left to warn her, so stupid man to stop his Hunt. This would be an easy morsel to start his night and fill him with the strength for his real, gluttonous fun could begin. He just needed to be sure that “Ethan” would not interrupt his fun again, and he had always found that a nice, bloody roll in his meat did the trick.

But my, this prey was perfect. She didn’t flinch when rolled his shoulders. She didn’t worry when his eyes looked over her pale skin. And she didn’t even scream when he launched his body at her, teeth blaring at her neck. He could taste it now, in his mind, and the anticipation of the warm splash in his mouth was only second to the reality that he would be living any moment now. His teeth grazed wind, and air, and nothing, and his paw connected with the ground, and he was without any prize to show for it. This Prey must be quick. He thought he saw a blur of grey and brown against his vision as he bore upon the Prey, but that didn’t make sense. His Prey was all whites and frailty, and now there was another scent in his clearing.

Wolf. Another wolf. He was growling even before he turned to look. He didn’t want someone stealing his kill. He didn’t need someone helping him hunt. This wolf was an interloper, calling him weak. He growled low and dangerous, turning slowly to give the stranger time to change his mind, and leave him in peace to his meal. If he was there by the time he turned…

What was this now? The other wolf was protecting his meal? He saw no reason for this. The prey did not smell like the wolf. The wolf did not smell like the prey. But he was baring his fangs at him like this prey animal was something worth protecting. This wasn’t right. This other wolf was Wrong. Sick. Freak. This was his clearing, and this was his meat. He didn’t want some sick, twisted, anomaly of a creature here. He didn’t want it touching his food. It needed to be dead or gone. The choice seemed obvious to him, though his eyes danced wildly along the other wolf’s body. He went to meet his eyes, but found his teeth to be more of the threat. He cringed, his skin rolled. This abomination needed to go and then maybe he could hunt in peace. Foaming in his fervor, the he charged the freak wolf.

His spine ached, and the cool wind whipped around the blood coating his back and legs. The should be mending but, no. Now when did those even happen? Did this freak tear him up without him knowing? That was why the wounds were not healing; a werewolf had inflicted them on him. They ached and burned and that only angered him more. His growl came out as a fierce bark, his teeth singing with the promise of being buried in the flesh of this freak animal, his heart racing at the wide eyes of the prey that looked at him from over her cover. Not long now. Not long and his belly would be full and he could run under the moon.

But when his mouth snapped shut, it wasn’t around any morsel. His jaw ached as the muscles strained tight against the lack of resistance. It jostled his brain in his head, and he growled low against the crime. He went to shift, to lunge again, only to find a tight pressure in his neck as the skin and muscle there was grabbed and pulled. He fought in instinctive urge to run slack, like a pup in its mother’s grip. He didn’t want to be nurtured. He wanted to be fed and fighting, but he was powerless to resist the shock, and even more powerless to stop himself from being tossed, away from the freak, away from the morsel, seeing nothing but red as he tumbled and flew.

He wanted to snarl and growl more, but he could not muster it as he hit the ground, his shoulder pressed hard into the leaves. He whimpered as he hit, and took in a long wet breath in an attempt to keep his strength mustered. The mud and sticks stuck to the open wounds along his back and shoulders, and made him work against every grit as he tried to stand on his own. He managed to get up, and immediately turned to look at whatever beast it was that could have thrown him and hurt him so.

He grew quiet, as did the world in her wake. He could see that her eyes looked at him, bore into him, with the intensity of the Moon Herself. Not this moon… Not the one of Blood, but the one of Light. She stood in defiance of the crimson glow, and when he looked at her, he could feel a clarity enter his head. He was still hungry, so very, very hungry, and he still was driven to hunt, but a part of Ethan came through before he was swallowed by the creature again.

She was lovely and strong, and he felt tug at his cardinal desires that swayed his mind to relax even more. He stepped forward, and looked at her for a moment as if he thought she was someone else, but… no… She could pull his Lust, but she was not Mate. Mate… he knew the one that pulled to “Mate,” and a fear gripped his chest. Where was his Mate? How long had it been since he lost her? The more he Calmed, the more he felt the Pain, and the more he felt the Pain, the more…

I’m going to hurt myself…

He looked up at her, his eyes blazing for a bright moment. He had to show her. Show her that he was strong. That he could fight. That he could hunt. But her gaze opened him up more than any wound could, and showed him to himself. He was tired and in pain and lost. When he felt all that enter his eyes, he couldn’t look at her anymore… the ground seemed more worthy of him. Still. his body wanted to fight, to eat…. That prey beast was still in the clearing, and her sheer existence was driving him mad. He could handle one of these other wolves taking her now, if that’s what they wanted. They earned it from him, but why let her live?

Maybe he could show them how strong he could be for them if he could hunt that prey for them. Maybe she had tricked them, and she was a liar, and he could help them see reality. Even if he felt weak and pain, he could show them that he would not be defeated by some prey bitch, and he got to his feet again, looking over the ground until he could see the white figure behind the other wolf. He started to move towards her. Yes. Yes if he could show them maybe they would want this unwanted thing.


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Fiona Leary
 Posted: Jan 23, 2016 | 1:21 am
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Finannuala
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Her attempt to calm the hurt creature had backfired spectacularly. She saw the werewolf gathering the energy to pounce and inwardly she wondered if this would be her end. She thought she’d hit rock bottom before now but evidently this was as bad as it could get. Then all of a sudden she felt someone collide into her, he winded her and she felt her lungs expel air with a whoosh noise. The look Graham gave her was warning enough to keep her still even if she could have spoken. There was fear in her chocolate colored eyes but she knew better than to move. Her diaphragm ached from contact with Graham but at this moment, she was glad of the pain because it meant she was alive.

She had gotten used to being still in the centuries that she had been hiding from the evil baro. In the instant from when Graham had knocked her down to when he rose again, Fiona did not so much as blink. She did not wish to disrupt what he was trying to do with all the trouble he had brought on himself because of her. She felt the dirt and rocks digging into one side and the softness of tree detritus on the other. This half on a bit of comfort on one side and the other half getting gravel ground into the other was in keeping with this heightened bit of adrenaline that was rushing through her body. Her chest screamed to give a giant gasp of breath but she didn’t dare lest she drew the wrong sort of attention to herself. The bruises that were starting to form hurt but better a little pain that would heal then having her throat tore out and being food for wolves.

Guilt filled her as she waited to see what would happen. Memories of all that she had lost flitted through her mind. The memory of the fire and the entire emotional backlash that it had caused; Her heart ached for it all. She’d wanted to find a family and in an instant, it had been destroyed. Nothing would be the same again. From that moment, she’d felt like things were slowly collapsing in on themselves like wet crepe paper. The scent of wolves circled around her and it took the supreme force of will not to give into the swan instincts that rode her hard. This man and the red-cloaked woman had braved danger for her and all because she had stupidly thought she could help.

Even when Ethan was tossed Fiona didn’t so much as dare to breathe wrong. Inwardly she winced as she heard him land, her vision obscured by Graham and Red as they faced off against Ethan. She’d wanted to help him, he had been in pain and while she didn’t want to become a meal just to cheer him up she hoped that someone could help this raggedy man in the woods. Her stomach began to twist from stress and she could sense the werewolf creeping around her, the nearly translucent hairs stood up all over her body and her gaze shifted slightly then fixed where it was, focused on the ground lest any of these creatures see it as a threat. The blood in her body seemed to pulse faster as she sat there and she felt her body starting to cramp up from the enforced stillness. Logically she knew not much time had passed but in situations like this she knew each moment was an eternity and her life could hang on any one of those.

These people had risked so much for her and the danger had yet to pass. She prayed that she would be able to repay them for their kindness if she lived through this. Her eyes felt gritty from not risking blinking. All she could do was wait and hope that she was not hindering her two rescuers and blocking them from what they needed to do.


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Tagged: Ethan, Open
Words: 666
Outfit:HERE
Notes: Sorry it took so long.

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The Huntsman
 Posted: Mar 13, 2016 | 12:07 am
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Sheriff Graham Humbert
player: Jax
54 posts

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There are nights when the wolves are silent and only the moon howls.
Come on, Red... when am I not careful? The impression that he was smirking at her crossed over the Link, even if in the clearing he kept a calm glare over his features. He felt completely reassured. The Beta part of his mind, along with how well he just knew Red, knew that she was going to make things better, even with the red glow of the moon shining into the clearing... even with the rolling pit of anger fluttering in his stomach. He wanted to throat the little insubordinate pup for showing up here. He didn't know his smell, and he didn't like his eyes.

Graham felt a pit welling in his gut when the other wolf charged him. He had wedged his heels into the ground, knowing that if he wanted to keep the woman who smelled too much like a swan safe, then he would have to take the brunt of the hit. He didn't dare squint against the assault, though, or telegraph his preparation for fear of taking his eyes off the attack. One miscalculation and he might be signing a death certificate for himself, or the woman at his back. His shoulders squared off and he bore his teeth, ready to clamp down and what had to be done against the crazed wolf...

...Only to have the creature flung through the air, in the complete opposite direction. He wanted to still look like he was ready for the fight, but he could not stop his head from completely tweaking to the side in curiosity. It was an impressive sight, and he wasn't surprised when it was revealed that Red Lucas had arrived on the scene. Her appearance gave the clearing, and the entire surrounding forest, and entire new glow. She was the Lupa, and Alpha in her prime, and her arrival meant that the world would need to listen to what she had to say. Even in the middle of combat, Graham paused his movement, locking in place until she issued her orders.

He knew the command issued had been to the rogue wolf, but he still held. Part of it was the indomitable will of the Lupa, and part of it was just his general respect for Red. She knew what she was doing, and whether or not he had been raised by wolves, he was still new at being a wolf. He doubted that this was the first rogue wolf that she had ever dealt with, and if it wasn't then it was a surprise to him. It just meant that his stance as her Beta needed to be even more prevalent. Another wolf, a weaker wolf, might have hunched away at her presence, and even abandoned the scene now that the Alpha was here, their duty performed. Not this werewolf. He had her back.

He did wonder where the dress came from, though. It should have looked completely out of place in the middle of the forest; an evening gown in the underbrush was not a normal sight. The dress, though, looked like it had been spun for her, from magic for all he knew. It almost banished the moonlight from her skin, from her eyes, from the whole clearing. And in those eyes, he could see the true moon smiling back at him. A grin tugged at his lips, an odd look in his blood moon form, but it was there. When she spoke, he listened.

The Lupa command seemed to have an affect on the rogue wolf, as well. His attention was drawn from the swan long enough for him to feel comfortable with moving. After he drew his eyes from Red, he didn't take his eyes away from the rogue, and was happy that he didn't when he saw the other wolf bring his attention back to the prey. All right... but save a little bit of him for me if he gets uppity? He didn't want to move too suddenly, in case it only encourage the rogue to attack again, but he needed to take care of the woman.

Cautiously, he moved, trusting that if the wolf attack again, Red would be there to protect them. He moved behind the woman and, barring any resistance from her, scooped her up in his arms. It was the only way that he could look her over while still having the freedom to move if he needed to. The talk between him and Red was also getting the attention of the other wolves over the Pack Link. He needed to make sure half a dozen wolves didn't break into the scene and ruin what Red was trying to do. The pack could be overzealous at times...

Move he did. He took a few steps back, and after a few paces, took a look over the swan. She did not appear to be seriously injured on first appearance, but looks were deceiving. “Were you bitten? Were you hurt?” he asked, remembering that he was speaking to someone who smelled like a prey creature. But prey o r no, if she was bitten that could mean her place on the food chain would change considerably... and with the state that the moon was in, quickly. He could also feel the wolves of the pack nipping for the chance to be called in, all the while, the rogue wolf before them looked right at the woman, almost as if he had something to prove.

We might have incoming soon, Lupa. I can tell the pack to back out...

notes: circling the wagons? Or just circling?
words: 1024 | tag: Red, Ethan, Fiona, PACK

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Red Riding Hood
 Posted: Apr 5, 2016 | 10:43 am
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Ruby Lucas
player: Jess
157 posts

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Oh, how it broke her heart when he let out that whimper on impact. The last thing Red wanted to do was hurt this poor pup, of course thanks to the Blood Moon whipping everyone into a frenzy she didn't have much of a choice. While her eyes remained locked onto the stranger, she tilted her head just so as one pale had rose to continue to keep the other pair back behind her. ”It's going to be alright. Just Stay Still.” The contralto of her voice was soft, deliberately so. The timbre musical while the lupa began to slowly let her aura unfurl like a blooming rose. Petal by petal, layer by layer. She had a feeling she was going to need every ounce of her lupine grace for this one.

He needs help Graham. He's lost. The certainty of it resounded in her bones now that she wasn't bothering playing at being normal and human. Microexpressions fluttered over her features, bits of her inner nature playing on her human face. She had tried for longer than she could remember to play the part of the normal girl. For her, for Snow, for the very reason her heart beat in it's protective wooden box miles behind her. It had left her weak, the focus on the mundane humanity. She owed this stranger; his rebellion reminded her who and what she was and every muscle coiled taut with potential as the She Wolf moved her hand in front of her to still the broken weary man. The only response to Graham's question was a slight shake of her head.

She strode forward, aura rippling, one ruby slipper at a time. Slow and deliberate closing the distance between them as her citrine eyes remained fixed with soft focus on the cliath. And when he lunged, distracted as if he was desperate to prove some unseen and unneeded point, Red was ready. Again her hand clamped on the back of his neck as the pair of them spun to the ground from the momentum of his lunge. This time, Red didn't release her grasp; instead her legs folded beneath her as she settled down onto the forest floor. Gently she guided the man into her lap, shushing softly as her free hand ran through his hair in slow comforting pets. He was no threat, not truly. This was not an Ulfric come to claim her territory. Truth be told there was only one Ulfric that the Lucas girl would accept and his resounding rejection of her was the reason her chest was quiet and empty beneath her ribs. Nor was he an upstart Geri come to take what Graham had earned way before fur coated his skin. No... this was just a lost little pup. And were it still her own, her heart would weep for him.

Instead, he was her charge, all the more proven when he finally started to relax under her touch. She hummed a little under her breath in an attempt to calm all of their nerves and after a few moments Red felt a smile creep along her features. ”Listen, pup. You're not going to attack the nice girl. We abide the Litany here, and that means you need to as well. 'Thou shalt not eat the flesh of Man' or in this case sweet girl who smells like swan.” She turned her attention over to Graham and the girl, arching her eyebrow at the young woman in question before nodding her head for her Beta to come around so she could face the pair of them. As if on cue, yellow diamonds began blinking along the edge of the clearing as one by one her wolves showed up. Keeping her voice even with the weight of the Lupa's command, her gaze fell on each and every one in turn. ”None of my wolves have forgotten that important rule, have they?”

It was twofold; first it was an unspoken vow that none of the Garou haunting this forest would harm the girl that lay in their Beta's arms. Secondly, it was a life preserver for them to latch onto that was strong that any perverse lure of the desecrated Lady above them. She knew they needed it, hell if she wasn't so certain in who she was now that Harano wasn't dogging her heels she might even fall prey to it's siren song of violence and nightmarish delights. But she was greater than this, greater than any sadistic promise from a false goddess. And her wolves needed to remember they were as well. Her attention turned to the girl as her wolves padded into the clearing one at a time, nuzzling or bonking into her as she sat absentmindedly petting the poor lost pup with her grip still firm and comforting on the back of his neck with her dominant hand. Now that the energy of the clearing was less dangerous, her eyes returned to their normal hazel with a couple of strong blinks; Red rolled her shoulders and spine before turning her attention fully back to the young woman with a bright and welcoming smile. ”Any reason you wandered off the path into the woods? Because it's not safe out her for man or beast. Trust me. I'm Red, by the way. The dashing hero who has you in his arms is Graham and these boys are my Pack.”


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scríobhaíhaving a really bad few days, and since i'm feeling hollow, a hollow muse it is.

scáthánoutfit url

céilíruby 8tracks that i really liked

ina dhiaidh sinpack thread!

A D e l r i o u s D e s i g n by Jess


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Ethan Chandler
 Posted: Jun 22, 2016 | 10:54 am
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Rick Talbot
player: Piper
39 posts

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The wolf could feel the wind against his exposed teeth, his lips flashed up as his body panted for air. As he looked upon his (former?) prey, he was less certain about the charge, less certain of what he could do to no longer anger the woman in red. An Alpha. The Alpha. He was not certain if he had ever met one before. His wolf father was hardly an Alpha. Ethan… the man… had resisted him many times alone, much less how the wolf refused to obey. The wolf, this monster, had gone unchecked for so long. For a long time, the beast had considered it to be true freedom, this refusal to be caved and barred. Looking up her now, though, he knew just how much he had been dead wrong.

Lost… lost…. The word echoed in his mind, and he could feel his soul be swallowed by contrition. Even as his gaze and fang launched through the air, he could feel a part of him call to his beast. It was a voice that the wolf was not sure he had heard before, a voice with an American Midwestern weight to it, and so very, very quiet. It was like a screaming song coming to him on the wind. It was not the song of the Moon, or the call of the Alpha. Was this…? This was his song.

The hand that grabbed his scruff was like a hand that pulled him from the edge of oblivion. The old wolf in him, or even the wolf from five minutes ago, would have been aggressive against that hand, but somehow, he already knew whose hand it was, and that she meant him no harm, even as she pulled him close to her, and laid him in her lap. When his chest landed on the ground, the air in his lungs escaped with a long sigh of air that continued to push out of him slowly like a deflating balloon. And his eye: no longer defiant, though she never demanded that his fire be extinguished. That long sigh ended with a soft whimper. It was a simple sound, but one that carried everything that was him in that moment.

He was tired. He was in pain. And he was going to be punished. Of all this, he was certain.

He deserved it. How many times had blood drenched those fangs and coated his throat? How many more nightmares did he wander through? Perhaps, that was why the Alpha in Red was here. Perhaps, God had finally answered his prayers, and sent some sort of deliverance for his soul. Perhaps, in his mercy, this was the Angel sent to take him, peacefully, away from the greatest of his pain. The greatest of his sin. His eyes glanced up from his place on the ground and in the lap of the Lady, and he could see the woman in white cradled in the arms of the other wolf. Graham… He knew. Two archangels. One of protection and one of mercy. Came to show him is sin, and take him away from it.

He lowered his head again, feeling her hands pet him and sooth him. Maybe, it was all over now? His great regret was he hadn’t found her. He hadn’t found his mate. He had been a damn fool, and everything had slipped away from him. His misery only brought more misery. He had failed his Vanessa. Could he even call her “his,” even though his wolf insisted it, and the man felt it in his core? This was his true punishment. If death were his relief, his Hell was the knowledge that he would never see her again. A suitable punishment for a creature of the night. The more she stroked him, the more he bent his body, and within moments, his throat was fully exposed to her, to do with as she wished.

He expected the blow to come. It never came. Instead, there was a change. The clearing seemed to open up and close off at the same time, becoming smaller and larger all at once. The moonlight, still just as bright, changed, and so did the shadows. The Sky Goddess was still scarlet, but somehow the light she casted was gilded and soft. Pinpricks of light appeared in the forest, and blinked at him, and at the Alpha. As she spoke, as they blinked, as the woods shifted, Ethan could feel his mind bloom. Laws rolled over him as the Litany, what was this Litany? became known to him. The minds that touched him were curious, not condemning, as names rolled across his mind, a list of those that belonged… and he found his among them.

He heard it. He heard his name added to the song, and heard that the music was not discordant for it. The song played on, and became history and future, mystery and certainty. He had seldom known this feeling, and never in the hands of so many. He thought, at first, it was fear that he had been feeling, but he knew that was not it. He knew fear. He did not know what this was, or what to call it, if it even had a word. What was it?

And in his emotion, Ethan Chandler wept.


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Fiona Leary
 Posted: Jul 16, 2016 | 11:22 pm
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Finannuala
player: Merry
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There was the flurry of activity that made her head spin, she was aware they were concerned for her. Listening to the queries that the gentleman asked her she shook her head, holding up one finger she flattened her right palm and made a motion like she was writing with a pen with her dominant left hand. She needed to get the ever-present pad of paper and pen from her pocket. She always kept plenty on hand on the off chance that folks didn’t speak ASL.

If permitted she would dig into a pocket in her skirt and pull out the very battered pen and paper. The pen was still miraculously intact but the item was leaking slowly. There was no help for it. If she died no one would care that she had ink stains on her white hands. She had to work quickly and soon lest the pack that were keening to the moon decide she was supper.

My name is Finannuala Ni Lir. I was called Fiona Leary back in Storybrooke. I’m a swanmane --a wereswan of sorts. I was a princess cursed to become a swan every evening by a baro king for refusing to marry him. When the curse struck Storybrooke and brought us here I was abandoned. I’ve been working at the local inn as bar maid to keep a roof over my head. I used to be a dancer and lived with the Romani kumpania that lived there but since the fire everyone has been separated.

She glanced up between them and then at the poor broken man who was cradled in Red’s arms. Tearing off the slip of paper she passed it to Graham to pass to the gowned Lupa before she continued with her story.

I was looking for a place to stay for the night. Usually if I can find a pond there is enough of my fathers blessing in the world for me to be safe. Most predators aren’t likely to venture into the middle of a pond and most sea beings remember me from long ago and grant me sanctuary. I was heading to a pond when I heard that gentleman’s pain…..

She passed the second sheet to Graham and moved her hand in Ethan’s direction when he cried, she wanted to give him comfort but she had a limited time to explain herself. Still, she had to pause, had to acknowledge his hurt. Her hands and gestures saying in her quiet way ‘I see your pain. I hear your cries and I too have known what it is to have such hurt in my soul.

Picking up her pen she set to work again, the drying ink making blackish blue stains on her once pristine hands as the moon made her seem even paler than normal.

I have some ability to put off my transformation after a few thousands of years. I know he is a predator, I know it was dangerous but his pain called to me. I have the blessing of being able to sooth others. It was a gift from my father Lir. I used to use it to sooth the patrons that the kumpania worked with so they wouldn’t be violent towards anyone. I just was hoping to ease his hurt so he could find someplace safe to transform but the moon called him sooner than I expected.

Queen Red, Prince Graham, I humbly ask for sanctuary this night and safe passage in your forest. I know I have brought you trouble with my presence but if it has done anything good than let it be that you found this nice gentleman and can now help him. I have lived many thousands of years in this world and I know that to be alone is truly the greatest curse there is. Please extend your mercy to him tonight. He needs shelter and care. I would offer it myself but…my time is growing short.

Her hand shook with the effort of writing the last. Her elegant ancient writing clear save for the last which she struggled to keep legible. It canted off to the side as she finished and she dropped the pen into her lap as she made sure to tear the note carefully and passed it along. Her stomach rolled and twisted. It hurt to delay things, the pain made her pale features almost glow with strain as a faint sheen of sweat threatened to overtake her. Soon she would transform and it would be a beacon to every predator and she could only hope that her words would be met with grace.



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Tagged: Ethan, Open
Words: 774
Outfit:HERE
Notes: I'm sorry I missed this. I made sure to tag the thread so it should notify me if there is a reply. smile.gif

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