Fugue State

a state or period of loss of awareness of one's identity

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 Lamb In Wolf's Clothing And Vice Versa, @Eien/Ryan
Sep 2 2017, 07:24 AM

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It was a long road back. That’s what she had heard. It was an even longer road back when you’d never been there. That’s what she was learning. It was hard. Harder than she had anticipated. One would think that it would be much easier to learn to live without the pain and the cruelty, it wasn’t that she was a masochist, she didn’t like it. But on some levels this kindness she’d been received her scared her. Terrified her actually because she was waiting for that other shoe to drop. She was afraid of letting herself actually be happy and let her guard down. If she did that was when the pain would start all over again, right?

The cruelty was something she understood and could prepare for, this was different. It was frightening. That’s why she had made a decision, one that might not have made sense but there were other phrases she had heard. Help others to help yourself. If you forget something teach someone and relearn the basics. In other words, Shy was hoping that if she volunteered at The Children of Michael then maybe she would finally learn to accept the love and warmth that was given to her from her new pack. Maybe she could move forward with her new life as a wolf and free from the terror that she had been born into.

There was no makeup on her face, her hair was down around her shoulders, and she was in a simple floral print dress and sandals. It was simple and very much her standard wear. She didn’t wear pants or jeans or shorts out of habit due to never being allowed to wear them. There had a been a reason for it and she wasn’t about to explain what it was, but there would be some that would understand.

As she stepped into the building she smoothed the front of her dress. Dull blue eyes looked around the 'reception' area, though she was pretty sure it was called and foyer or entrance of the building, no house that she had walked into. It was just as stunning as the pack house and made her shift a bit, eyes flashing from blue to gold then back again as she gripped her emotions quickly. She felt eyes on her and slowly turned around to face the person she felt watching her. Her eyes didn't reach his, they stopped firmly on his chin.

”Hello, sir. My name is Cheyenne, most just call me Shy and I was looking to be a volunteer if you are in need of them.” Her voice was soft, timid and it was easy to tell that the fact that she spoke before she was spoken too took a bit of a toll on her.
Sep 2 2017, 07:56 AM
116
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662 hybrid owner of a hybrid shelter
wolf/vampire
Leave me in chains, strip me of shame, caress me with pain, 'cause I'm down on my knees and I'm begging you please as you say-- Don't cry, mercy. There's too much pain to come.
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Ryan

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Eien
her/she | GMT +1 | 3/3/3 | Eien#0897
She walked in like she had no idea what to do with herself. With the pretty floral dress hanging on her frame, and the absolute lack of accents on her face, just her hair serving to frame it well. As simple as a nymph in a forest. She was as unappealing to the demanding audience as she was a breath of fresh air where it often stank of cheap perfume and pretense. Walking down the stairwell close to the entrance, Ryan both hated her and felt nothing else.

He reached her, and that was point.

Stepping off the stairs, he walked towards her, noiseless where the house wasn’t so much. Bustling with energy and the very care it was renowned for, it stood in a contrast to her shy presence, and when she faced him, her hair moved in a bounce, lashing against the air in some.

Such a shame, really. If you asked him, she’d looked the best moving rapidly and fierce. Give her a piece of meat to learn to hunt for herself and he wagered she dropped that coy, docile face at the instant that she bit onto juicy flesh. At least, Ryan believed that.

He smiled a cold smile, and put his hands behind his back.

“I see.”

It was a lovely afternoon day.

“Very well then,” he began, adopting more of a charm, his gaze on her, slanted as you would, but when he faced her fully in a brief second where they appeared equal (they were not), it was all for the pleasure of uttering, “Welcome to the shelter”, and he was sidling up to her next, and whispering into her ear--

“It’s almost like a fortunate wind blew you my way. This way.”

Without ado, did lead her down the hall to the left, the walls of this house quite white, and the interior decor bright as well. There weren’t many colors, but when white met another, it was normally a warm shade of brown, standing in a pleasant contrast to the pristine appearance of the walls.

It looked homey. It looked beautiful. It looked like the white picket fence deal made to happen.

Ryan led the young lady to his office, which was truly as most offices quite the official place, with long lines of bookshelves wrapped around the entire room, and its center adorned with a scattering of furniture; a desk here, a lit lamp there, a couple of documents awaiting review, and with the fluffy carpet underfoot, absorbing noise, a helping of paintings on the walls without books and the prevalence of brown contours, it looked as aged and primed for serious business conversations as it was contrarily young and recent. Ryan immediately moved himself to his desk, having opened the door and stepped in first, and leaving it to her to close. But considering people were sheep--

“Close the door, pet,” he sang just as he reached his desk, sinking himself onto his leather chair in a drape that made him look like a mad king thinking which town to burn to charcoal.

He smiled.

Content like and illegible, he motioned at her and at one of the chairs facing his desk, suggesting, “Sit.” No place for arguments. And once she had--

There was that sharp, amused glint in his watchful eyes.

“Why do you want to work here, Shy?”

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Sep 2 2017, 11:18 AM

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The dress sleeveless and fell about mid-calf. There were various faded scars over her body and one very thin and faded one across her right cheek. She had hoped when she had been turned that they would disappear but then she realized they were battle wounds in their own way and they should act as reminders of the life she was attempting to leave behind. The life she was supposed to leave behind.

Inwardly she winced when she saw that smile. That cold smile that she’d seen a thousand times before. The one that came as a warning before something terrible happened. It was familiar to her, something she understood. Something she should have run from but at the same time she was drawn to it. It didn’t help that her wolf bowed to the alpha that was the man in front of her.

The switch from cold to charming threw her off. That wasn’t something she had expected and it had her eying him warily. ”Thank you, sir.” When he leaned into whisper her eyes flashed gold before they slid closed. A shiver danced down her spine and her breath hitched. She braced herself, not sure what to expect to happen. His words filled her with dread but at the same time they made her heart race a bit. She was so confused right now. ”How so, sir?”

Shy followed him up to his office and stepped inside. When he told her to run everything in her was screaming to run. Run back to the pack and hide behind Law until he could make it all go away. Her actions belied her thoughts as she shut the door behind her. At his command she sat. Her feet crossed at the ankles, her hands rested in her hands and she stared at his chest, not his face.

The wolf cleared her throat and considered his question. ”I am hoping that I will be able to help people while helping myself. That if I can help others to find peace and acceptance that I’ll be able to do the same.” That if she could convince them there was life after survival she would start to believe as well. That the world wasn’t a completely terrible place and there was hope
Sep 4 2017, 09:28 AM
116
posts
662 hybrid owner of a hybrid shelter
wolf/vampire
Leave me in chains, strip me of shame, caress me with pain, 'cause I'm down on my knees and I'm begging you please as you say-- Don't cry, mercy. There's too much pain to come.
rogue
demisexual
single/unshipped
Ryan

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Eien
her/she | GMT +1 | 3/3/3 | Eien#0897
Her demeanor belied her refusal. Though she did obey, he could see that subtle, pale of a spark at her core. She was a smart girl from what he saw, or rather the fact alone that her heart had picked up, spelling the fright of a cornered animal.

And yet she had soldiered on and come in. Perhaps not so smart, after all. But he benefited from every stupid decision and smiled at her, once they were in his office. Once she had seated herself there, legs crossed at her ankles and her posture so prim and tense she might have been a high school student, one normally regarded as a future Harvard graduate except for this one missed day. Ryan regarded her, curious about her features.

A victim of abuse. Christ, she had it all spelled out on her; the sir, the make-up-less features, like she feared to over-dress, feared what kind of a monster she attracted if she looked in any part different. Well, wasn’t this her (un)lucky say~

He brought his hand up to the vicinity of his head, that casual sort of closeness assumed that pinned the hand with the role of making thoughtful gestures as seconds went on; fingers rubbed, hands opened and closed, the ticks were numerous. He didn’t employ them, but then he slunk back in his seat, rudely, and rested the side of his head into his hand.

He stuck out three fingers, like a tripod support. They pushed into his soft cheek.

He smirk was amiable.

“I see.”

A second passed--

“That’s good enough by me.”

He leaned forward quite slowly, drawling, “Love, unless I’m mistaken--”

He moved his hand to his chest where he snapped his fingers, hand later moved up to his face to point at his eyes. He smiled.

"My eyes are up here."

Arm folded atop the desk, he continued, “Precious, whoever beat you and hurt you is none of my business. But rest assured, here isn’t where the repeat thereof takes place.”

His kingly statement made, he arched his brows, quite obviously pleased with himself, his smile idle and his mannerism light. Considerate. With that sharp tidbit to him that might have implicated him a beast with its vile plans spinning. But that was certainly everyone imagining things.

Arms folded atop the desk between them, Ryan loosened one and flicked the hand, uttering, in a delicate flair, a proof of blue-bloodedness that wasn’t inherited after all but learned, “I would, however, like to recommend you for a bit more cheek. You do not have anything to fear here. Do tell, when did you get turned?” He clucked his tongue, still cheekily dismissive about the concern.

“Was it… in the recent year?”

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Sep 4 2017, 10:07 AM

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Panic was starting to settle into her heart as she nervously and repeatedly smoothed the skirt of her dress. He was so quiet and just watching her. It took everything she had to keep her eyes on his chest and not just drop her head completely in submission. There was a power to him, a command that she recognized though it was hard to tell if it was the violent type like her father and her ex, or if it was the protective type like Law.

Her heart was thudding in her ears and she was starting to feel trapped in the silence. Nothing good ever came from the silence and she felt as if she had disappointed him in some way. That just her being alive was some sort of disgrace to his senses. Her eyes closed briefly as she worked to push those thoughts from her mind. He was not her father. He was not her ex. He had built a place to help people like her. Slowly her eyes opened once more as she let out slow deep breaths to try to calm the unwarranted fear.

Shoulders relaxed briefly when he said her reasoning was good enough for him. For a moment she felt like she could breathe again. The oppressive feeling lifting from her mind and heart. She blinked when his hand went to his chest and slowly her gaze tracked it’s movement until she was looking him in the eyes. ”I’m sorry, sir. Of course they are.” He had given permission so she didn’t hesitate to look him in the eye, though there wasn’t much to see in hers. Or perhaps there was a wealth of information laying in the abysmal blue depths.

”Of course, sir. I’m still adjusting to my new surroundings and current situation.” It was the best she could do to explain it. She wasn’t used to the idea of safety and being safe. It was foreign and little scary. Kind of similar to someone who had been in prison for so long they would do anything to go back because they couldn’t function outside of it.

She nodded in acknowledgement of him wanting more cheek from her, she just didn’t know how to give it. At least not yet. ”I was turned just a few months ago. It was an attack, I was found by a lovely couple who helped me through my first few transformations and taught me what they could. Then I was sent here to San Francisco where I joined Furore.”
Sep 11 2017, 08:49 AM
116
posts
662 hybrid owner of a hybrid shelter
wolf/vampire
Leave me in chains, strip me of shame, caress me with pain, 'cause I'm down on my knees and I'm begging you please as you say-- Don't cry, mercy. There's too much pain to come.
rogue
demisexual
single/unshipped
Ryan

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Eien
her/she | GMT +1 | 3/3/3 | Eien#0897
His lips curled. My, my, she did have a problem with authority, which was to say she didn’t discriminate against age, gender, interest-- everyone was sir. And all the same, everyone would be ma’am if you burdened her with a female companion. It made Ryan roll his eyes mentally, but in person he didn’t do much. Too easily bored. Too keen on amusement. He merely observed her, his hands joined on the desk and opening, closing in that gesture of acceptance and helplessness before he said, “And I understand that, love.”

He was painting himself as such a good man. It gave him a rush.

It made him wonder how to ruin the impression, or in fact better it, drinking himself on the scent of her wolf and entertaining the reality of how easily she’d threaten the delicate balance of the shelter; young, female, wolf, and soft. God, if his men didn’t accidentally bend and rape her-- well, life was cruel. As long as he got a small taste of her blood, he wouldn’t complain. As long as he got to watch it--

Alas--

The scent of another man, the scent that didn’t pin her a whore and not a woman owed, but the scent of belonging that Ryan well knew, confirming her a wolf taken with a pack, chilled such notion, and in fact had him contemplate how much he really wanted to bother with this woman.

Though he did have a thing for blondes…

He hummed, mustering a mock understanding expression, his answer a lame, dull, and seemingly plain, “I see”, before he slowly moved up to stand, and took to the right, where a cabinet sat, easily answering with a swing to his desire to open. Its inside was revealed as containing several bottles of alcohol and a number of crystalline tumblers, all of which glimmered with every angry threat if they should be chipped, she paid. Ryan procured two, moving to set them upon the desk with a merry swing in his step. His lips curled into a faint grin, and his features ever so seemingly placating, he murmured in his lilt, “I hope you can drink, pet. You don’t really look it, but I suppose I want to take my chances.” The glasses set down, he waited to borrow her gaze, and when their eyes locked, only then did Ryan smirk.

He looked mischievous for a second, his stance corrected, the lean forward erased into a straightened one that lifted his hand off the rim of the glass as well. His tone was relaxed.

“Or we’ll just make it our secret.”

Looking close to winking, though he’d not, he looked at the splay of alcohol once more, wondering, “What do you drink, pet? You look like you need it. Also, far it be from me to deny owed respect, but do refrain from calling me sir in the future. My name is Ryan. Do well to use it. And now--”

He paused to slant her a look, and smiled. His arm up, he beckoned her to stand right next to him with that curl of his hand and that tell-tale motion. Come here. It hooded his gaze, and once more, he wondered---

“Drinking is one of the gifts of life… It helps you… relax. Come along now, pet, I don’t have all day.”

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Sep 11 2017, 12:48 PM

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It was true, Shy was too new to freedom, support, and being a wolf that she hadn’t had time to fully adjust and embrace it all. So she took it one step at a time and right now she was more focused on dealing with her wolf. It was more dangerous and something that needed her attention more than trying to realize that she can actually tell someone no and she can fight back and it was okay to protect herself. She hadn’t gotten there yet, there hadn’t been time.

Ryan was confusing her, he was mixing the signals and she couldn’t quit pin down the scents of his emotions either. They seemed to bounce around and she couldn’t figure out if she was supposed to be afraid or relieved. If he was the predator or if he was like Law and just wanted to help. It causing a bit of a bit of a panic in her the urge to flee was strong even while it battled with the urge to stay and hear him out. Find out if which one he was. The villain or the hero.

She nodded when he said he understood. ”I’ve been focused on learning to be a wolf. I figure right now it’s the more important thing since it’s the most dangerous to others.” Though not focusing on herself is more dangerous to herself. He didn’t seem to be much of a talker that was fine by her. The less they talked the less inclined he was to ask her about her past.

Blue eyes tracked his movements as he went to cabinet. She watched, mesmerized by the crystal and the colors of the liquids in the bottles. After a few blinks her gaze lifted once more to meet his eyes as he had commanded earlier. ”I have never actually drank before.” She hadn’t been allowed, only the guys were allowed to drink. Heaven forbid she had been given something to numb the pain and fear.

”I will trust your judgment…, Ryan. I wouldn’t know what to drink. What suggestions do you have for me on what to try?” His name stammered and stuttered from her lips. It hadn’t been an easy thing for her to do, but she had complied even though it went against her very nature to do so. The issue with being so obedient is each master had their own set of rules and the rules changed and often conflicted with each other.

The fear caused her heart to skip a beat once more as she slowly got up and walked towards him to stand next to him. Her head tipped a bit to look up at him. She wasn't sure what to drink. Her dad drank beer, her ex drank whiskey. Then she remembered an old movie she watched one night. ”Do you have any brandy? I've always wanted to try it, it seemed so sophisticated.”
Sep 12 2017, 11:41 AM
116
posts
662 hybrid owner of a hybrid shelter
wolf/vampire
Leave me in chains, strip me of shame, caress me with pain, 'cause I'm down on my knees and I'm begging you please as you say-- Don't cry, mercy. There's too much pain to come.
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Ryan

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Eien
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“And that is true, my pet,” he echoed, and he did think so too. Not that he understood her concern exactly-- unlike her, and unlike the wolves and the vampires of the modern era, Ryan had gladly given into his urges since the start, although, mind you, since he was a part of a magical experiment, it had been documented and preserved for the later years. He’d found the oddest of things when he recovered the documents decades later.

Such a control that his peers hadn’t paralleled.

Nonsense. Ryan looked at himself and saw a man unhinged. Powerful. There was no way he’d been weak at any point in his life. He’d rather pretend he’d been born as he was now. She made him smirk.

“Never,” he echoed, like such a world where people never drank simply wasn’t possible. Of course it was. There was the whole age of consent thing which Ryan understood, but still, the hedonist in him scoffed at her virginity. But the hedonist in him also admired that it would him who took it from her. He turned his gaze away from her, pinning on the display of alcohol-- and shivered his eyes shut when she spoke his name.

Ryan.

Ah yes, pet. It softened him almost on spot. He pretended to mull her question over, instead distracted by the sound of his own name in her voice. Hers was particularly feminine. It had a twang he could easily adjust to if he was to hear it often. He should honestly make her say his name more often. But he’d only want it stammered. Only want it wrapped in fear.

(Imagine what it would do to him… if she moaned it.)

Her fear filled the air, and her heart skipped a bit. And still, feigning calm and innocence, Ryan waited for her to join him. When she finally did, he noted how warm she felt. He hoped she felt his heat too. A pervasive reality that sank deep under her skin like a perfume. He wanted to write himself into the marrow of her bone. Wanted to feel the imprint of her soul right next to hers. Choking and hoarding her like a possession. He shivered, once more. A minuscule thing she’d not note. But once she stood next to him, he slowly turned to her, his smirk thin-lipped and a bit dangerous. But the light in his eyes alive and sharp. He mustered, “As you wish, pet”, and with seeming-like joy recovered a fine brandy from the bar.

“Some consider brandy to be one of the truest forms of alcohol,” he murmured to her, conversational. He uncapped it, and poured them both a glass. Humble for both. The bottle was set down. “Go on then,” he urged, stood lingering at her. Curious. Smiling. His tumbler at his lips. “I want to see what you think, Shy. Do you really insist on that name, by the way?” He drank from his glass. “Cheyenne is such a lovely name,” he chatted, idle and relaxed, “it’s almost the most beautiful feature about you, outside of your voice, of course. Has it ever been called sweet before? It should.” He locked his gaze with hers as he told her--

“I’d compare it to the flavor of passion fruit if I could.”

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Sep 12 2017, 12:45 PM

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Shy knew that in order to fix herself she had to come to grips with so much first and the only way to do that was to take it one step at a time. A slow breath was released when he agreed with her and it actually garnered him a small, somewhat shy, upturn of the corners of her mouth. She inclined her head in acknowledgement. ”It seemed the logical choice. Besides it gives me something to focus on while I try to figure other things out.” Absently one hand rubbed up and down the opposite arm as she spoke to him. It was odd to speak somewhat freely with someone in authority and there was very much an authority about him. Unlike Rhys, he was a predator and she could feel it.

The blond head tipped a bit as she looked at him when he spoke the word. ”Never. It wasn’t allowed.” They didn’t like the idea of her being able to dull the pain they gave her. She was pretty sure her father had a discussion with her ex because they were of the same mentality. In the long run she thought that perhaps it was a good thing that they wouldn’t let her get into it, or she would have probably become an alcoholic and possibly a drug addict.

A blink and then another as he shivered when she said his name. One hand reached up and she tugged on her bottom lip in thought. She wasn’t quite sure what the reaction meant or if she even had the courage to ask. She didn’t know him and though all the signs were there that she didn’t want to, there was something about him that made her want to at the same time. She had never been this confused before. Most of the signals she’d gotten were pretty cut and dry. Law was strong but honorable, Rhys was as damaged as she was and sweet and sorely mistreated by his mother. But Ryan, Ryan she couldn’t peg him and she’d made it her hobby to be able to peg people down so she knew what to expect.

The warmth drew her and she found herself standing closer to him than was necessary. She was overcome with an urge to nuzzle the side of his neck. The movement to do so started, then stopped abruptly before she stood straight again. That smirk was a warning sign and something that caused her own self to shiver. She nodded was he turned to get the brandy and used that time to refocus on why she was here in the first place.

”Really? How come?” She took the glass that was handed to her and sniffed it before taking a sip. Her brows furrowed and she gave a delicate cough, glad she hadn’t just tried to down it. So another sip was taken until she adjusted to the burn of alcohol. ”I do like this.” Her head shook. ”I don’t mind being called Cheyenne. Just most people like to shorten it, if you wish to call me Cheyenne then there’s no reason not to, Ryan.” Again she stumbled a bit saying his name. The blond head shook. ”Compliments are not something normally sent in my direction.”

Shy looked at him quizzically. ”What does passion fruit taste like?”
Sep 19 2017, 01:15 AM
116
posts
662 hybrid owner of a hybrid shelter
wolf/vampire
Leave me in chains, strip me of shame, caress me with pain, 'cause I'm down on my knees and I'm begging you please as you say-- Don't cry, mercy. There's too much pain to come.
rogue
demisexual
single/unshipped
Ryan

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Eien
her/she | GMT +1 | 3/3/3 | Eien#0897
He hummed in response. “And that, my dear, makes sense.” The act of figuring oneself out-- mostly in the face of such a large change. There was no rhyme or reason in simply going on with life as though nothing had happened. Adjustments needed to be made, although as she answered with a never, he had to ask her--

“And who forbade you?”


There was no way for him to glean the truth. But he wondered, who could it have been? Her parents? Her legal guardians? And why, pray tell, would you deny your child the joy of some fun? It wasn’t like you were sinning if you let your kid get a bit of beer-- Ryan had thought so much, his world had thought so when it was young-- surely, there was no sense in going black and white on your child in a simple concern as that. But what would he know?

His child had tried to fuck him and then he’d fucked over his own daughter. And for which Ryan had killed him. Obviously, parental love wasn’t really all that much.

And now he was fucking his sister and raising their child together--

Family. Not a word he understood simply.

“They just do,” he replied smoothly, with a cluck of his tongue. “Just as to some people, no red meat is enjoyed to its fullest without a glass of wine to complement it-- and to others, there is no such a thing as love.” He made a face at her, one of charm and amusement. “Reasons vary, preferences too, there’s no single truth, but one thing we can agree on--” He smiled as she coughed--

“Alcohol must be slowly enjoyed.”

Cheers.

Finishing off his drink, since he’d poured himself little, he mustered, “My, my, aren’t you virginal” as he reached for the bottle and poured himself another. What did passion fruit taste like?

“Sweet,” he said, the bottle down. The drink at his lips. His hips against the desk, leaning him on it. His attention on her. Smileless. He didn’t need a smile for a moment. There was a crispness to his sentences. Still his tone carried. A natural lilt given of his accent. “Tarty. Fresh. It has a habit of dripping down your chin if you’re not careful enough. Some people find it ugly. It has a rather unappealing appearance. Round and dark and the inside gelatinous and full of tiny black blobs that look like ants.” He smiled.

“But the flavor is quite amazing.” Raising his glass in a toast, he added, his tone amused and fond, “If you enjoy fruit and light, sweet, mildly tangy flavors, it will be right up your alley. Don’t feel discouraged by new experiences, Cheyenne. Now drink up.” He made an elegant gesture towards her-- and appeared all haughty and dramatic for a moment. “I will show you around. Perhaps we have some fruit in the fridge for a taste-test if you’re feeling bold today. And then, why not today?” He smiled larger at that. Why not today? And if not today, when?

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Sep 20 2017, 03:59 PM

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A small smile touched her lips and she straightened up a bit more. As if that simple comment was some of the most praise she’d ever gotten. It wasn’t often that she had someone tell her she was right or that she made sense. It happened a bit more with the pack, but then they were supposed to tell her those kinds of things as they were helping her on that journey. Weren’t they? But he was a stranger and a very commanding one at that, so to her it was even more powerful. ”Thank you.”

She took another sip as she contemplated his question. ”My father. My ex. Most men that had control of me.” It was the only way she could think to say it. They did have control of her and they were always men. Cheyenne so no reason not to tell him the truth or answer whatever question he had to ask. She herself had nothing to hide, though some things might be difficult to discuss at times. She was fairly open about it as long as the questions were asked or the interest was there.

Cheyenne listened to him, her attention was trained solely on him as he spoke. Her head tilted a bit in thought. ”There are no happy ever afters either. What do you consider to be the truest form of alcohol?” She did agree that it had to be sipped, otherwise she was afraid she was going to spit it out in a coughing fit. ”I do like this, though I’ll have to get used to it.” She took another slow slip as she stood next to him.

At the comment about her being virginal she furrowed her brows a bit. ”Not technically.” She never enjoyed sex, didn’t like it as it hurt too much but she supposed that technically speaking she wasn’t, but in many ways she was. Cheyenne listened as he described passion fruit and she let out a small, very brief chuckle. ”It seems I have something in common with it.” The young woman had been told many a times that she was not attractive and how lucky she had been that her ex had decided to put her plain looks aside and take her into his home and bed.

She found herself having adjusted to the burn and flavor of the brandy and her glass became empty. She didn’t realize it until she had taken another sip after he had told her to drink up and there was nothing there to sip, so she set it the glass down on his desk. ”I’d like to try it one day. I like sweet and fruity things. Tangy sounds appealing and I promise I will think it’s a beautiful fruit.” She gave him another small smile.

A slow breath was let out of her lungs as she looked him right in the eye. It was a struggle but she was trying. ”I am here, I would like a tour and I want to feel bold so why not?”
Sep 26 2017, 01:22 PM
116
posts
662 hybrid owner of a hybrid shelter
wolf/vampire
Leave me in chains, strip me of shame, caress me with pain, 'cause I'm down on my knees and I'm begging you please as you say-- Don't cry, mercy. There's too much pain to come.
rogue
demisexual
single/unshipped
Ryan

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Eien
her/she | GMT +1 | 3/3/3 | Eien#0897
That quirked his brows. Smiling slyly, he said in a soft but convincing tone, like it was the most obvious thing in the world, “And my darling, why didn’t you defy them? Surely, you don’t need the strength of the wolf to face someone and tell them no.” His conniving tone lilted, and he tutted, warm, “Pet, your fate is… always in your hands…” He flickered his gaze on the booze they were (about to) drink, and made a point of that. See? As though life was as simple as that.

Ryan considered his glass with more focus next, and actually contemplated her question. It didn’t take a lot of brainpower. In fact, his answer, half-thoughtful, in that pleasant drawl came a moment after while his gaze was still on his glass, admiring the amber liquid he liked enough to have bought a bottle of--

He answered, “I have learned it’s not quite about the alcohol itself, not entirely, but also about the company.” He flickered his gaze back up at her, and with his lips a tad too full and gorgeous in a smirk, he said, “A combination of fine alcohol and fine company. Although on that note,” he added rather dramatically, and amused slur spoken in intentional haste, “Never give me beer. I could not embrace its charms when I was young and I cannot now.”

Mm, disgust.

Also--

He slanted her a look, amused. Smirked. Raised his glass in half a toast and said, “You don’t believe in happily ever after? … Now, now, that’s a jaded worldview to share.” He almost beamed, energized by this act. A sly fox who’d bound a nice hide-hole to expose to himself. “Do tell~” he sang, “I must know everything.”

For no more and no less of a reason than curiosity only. He tamed his smile at her chuckle, but he was still amused. Not virginal technically, aka she’d had sex, and--

“And what is it you have in common with it?”

He finished his drink. Far too used to the burn, and with proper tolerance for alcohol, he easily poured himself another and noticed the bleak emptiness of her glass, filling hers too. He was humming as so too. He glanced up at her-- waited. Paused. And smiled, and lifted his head up, appraising her briefly with that lasting, predatory amusement of his, his smirks ever a level too sharp and a point too wide.

“Now, now,” he said, patronizing her with intent, “it would appear you have just made a breakthrough.”

He took her glass in his hand and slipped it into hers. His own was held up, and he beckoned, interested and amused, “Then, we have a proper reason to drink.” His drink was at his lips as he paused and made a general motion with his hand, facetiously chiding, “I mean, outside of early alcoholism, of course.” A joke. He held his hand up in a toast.

“Toast? On your courage, my dear. A bit too little some would say but I’ve always believed every great story began at the bottom.” His eyes were pale. He smirked. Had he begun like that, too?

“On you, Cheyenne.”

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Sep 26 2017, 04:34 PM

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Cheyenne actually shifted so she was leaning against his desk and tipped her head to look up at him, he’d told her to look at him. ”I wasn’t a wolf at the time and I’ve been conditioned since I was little not to stand up for myself. I had my place it was imperative that I learned it or I probably wouldn’t have survived my childhood.” The way she spoke was just so blunt and to the point. She wasn’t fishing for sympathy or pity and she wasn’t really trying to tell a sob story. For it her was just truth and fact and didn’t need to be embellished.

She glanced down at her hands and then back at him. There was a sad smile on her lips and she gave a one shouldered shrug. ”I never knew I had that option until now. It was submit or pain and I’m not too keen on the pain. So I learned quickly. Though as you can see, I never learned how to read minds.” She motioned to a few of her scars. ”Though I did try. Very hard.” Weak though she may seem, she did have a survival instinct that she couldn’t overcome even when she wanted to.

”That is an interesting take on truest alcohol.” When he mentioned beer she nodded her head and did so quickly. ”I don’t think I would like beer. I never liked the smell of it.” Her nose wrinkled as she stared off a bit lost in a memory. A shuddered danced through her and she pulled herself from her thoughts.

”I don’t consider it jaded, just realistic. It’s why they are called fairy tales. Just stories to give hope and induce happy dreams to little kids so they can stave off the nightmares. Well unless they actually read the true stories, then it would be the other way around.” Her brows furrowed at that and she shook her head with small laugh. She did love that wonderful place called the library. Not to mention google when she was around a computer anyway.

”What everything would you like to know? If I actually tell you everything it will just make it sound like I’m making it up and wanting sympathy. Do you want to know about what my life was like or specific experiences?” Cheyenne wasn’t being intentionally being obtuse there was just so much he might not actually care to hear, she’d at least like to know what part of her life he wanted to know about and maybe do it in pieces.

”You know. Unappealing and ugly but a sweet center. Or at least a surprising center. I hope to have a surprising center anyway.” She watched as he refilled her glass. Honestly, this was something new for her. Him and Rhys, people who actually seemed to want to speak with her. Though she still had the danger alert going in the background of her mind, the fact that he seemed interested in conversation for whatever reason helped to dull the din.

”Truth be told, I’ve made a few, they just aren’t as blatant.” She swallowed a sigh as she knew the tone. Cheyenne held onto the glass he had put in her hand and held it up for the toast. ”I’m not sure being an alcoholic is on my list of things to figure out, but I can pretend it is for today.” She gave a small smile at the fact that she made a bit of a jest.

”How does the saying go? If you hit rock bottom you can only go up? I do hope that’s true as for my courage, I’m finding it little by little. Like a shattered puzzle scattered in the wind.” She smiled a bit and clinked her glass to his before taking a sip.
Oct 2 2017, 12:36 PM
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662 hybrid owner of a hybrid shelter
wolf/vampire
Leave me in chains, strip me of shame, caress me with pain, 'cause I'm down on my knees and I'm begging you please as you say-- Don't cry, mercy. There's too much pain to come.
rogue
demisexual
single/unshipped
Ryan

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Eien
her/she | GMT +1 | 3/3/3 | Eien#0897
“You have been conditioned,” he voiced, like by repeating the words he could understand at all-- make a sense of it, learn the truth of her upbringing by the law of parroting back her sentence like a stricken mocking-jay. He thought that. But even as he rolled it over his tongue like a new flavor, like a dish he sampled for the very first time, he couldn’t make sense of it. It didn’t make sense. Drink in hand, he could only survey her, silent, and watchful, his gaze on her. She was a liar. Nobody went through that and emerged here.

Nobody.

Ryan considered his drink. He emptied it, suddenly. A kick of the liquid in like its swift and bitter flow down his throat was what he needed to cleanse his mind. A girl conditioned to accept pain.

A girl conditioned to accept pain, talking to a man conditioned to do the very same.

He wanted her out at that moment. He lost himself to his thoughts. And finally quirked smiled at her, and cruelly said, “Well, just because you’ve not found your love, my dear, doesn’t mean it’s not a realistic concept. You’re inexperienced. Your input hardly matters,” he said, with a strong shrug, with a hasty, haughty flair, and that arrogant quirk in his brows and a tilt in his head.

“After all, you’ve never had passion fruit. Who’d trust a silly girl like that with notions of love and romance?” He poured himself more and at once was putting the alcohol away, the moment over.

He kicked his drink again.

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

It was added, with harshness. He faced her then. And fixed her with a look that was as hard to explain as it was to put into words. But cold cut it well.

“Get out.” He smiled. Forced it. And eased the drink from her hold, murmuring, delicately, “I believe you’ve had enough. Come along now, we feed you the stupid fruit and perhaps then you can understand more about the world. Hurry, hurry, finish your drink.

“We wouldn’t your courage withering, would we?”


And so he finished his drink. Downed it like someone who needed its convincing burn that there were better things out there in the world. Hers was thrust back into her hold, harshly like he hoped she’d spill it and he could hold it against her, citing the price of cleaning the carpet, the fine alcohol, and any other mysterious cost he'd come up with on the spot. He’d rack it up to a hundred, if he was feeling particularly vile. And suck the money out of her and maybe give it to his daughter. The girl sure could do with some savings.

But he fixed Shy with a morose, hard smirk, his eyes cold as he jerked his head to the side, and suavely said, “Come along now, love, we don’t have the whole day.”

The kitchen awaited.

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Oct 2 2017, 02:15 PM

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Cheyenne watched him curiously as he repeated what she had just said. ”Yes.” Not everyone reacted the same as another when something happened. She had learned to become adaptable in some ways which was probably the only thing that saved her. That and her inability to let herself just die regardless of how often she’d wanted to. She had a place in her mind that only she could reach and that’s where she would hide during the worst of it.

He intrigued her and that wasn’t something that Cheyenne would have thought would happen. She watched as he drank, the way he drank and it was telling on some levels, though she couldn’t quite grasp what it was telling her. She gave a bit of a shrug. ”I can’t help that I don’t think it truly exists. Or rather perhaps it just doesn’t exist for everyone. Maybe it’s not meant to exist for me. That’s a possibility.” It was though he was right in the respect that she didn’t have the experience to determine that since she’d never experienced it firsthand.

”I don’t think I’d be the only one that’s never had it.” Her eyes narrowed a bit as she watched him. There was a depth to him that he was trying to hide. That’s how she felt. He was protecting himself on some level. Shy just couldn’t figure out what it was and part of her wanted to help him. He seemed as broken as she was.

The look on his breath stalled the breath in her lungs. The breath was released in a sigh as he told her to get out. Once the drink was removed from her hand she looked up at him. Her brows furrowed a bit. He seemed to not be able to make up his mind as to what he wanted her to do. Don’t drink, drink, she was confused.

She took her drink and held it carefully, not a drop spilling. Cheyenne shook her head and looked up at him. ”My courage won’t wither. But you seem to need this more than I do.” She put the glass in his hand and looked him square in the eyes. ”I don’t know what it is I’ve said or done, but I do apologize for it. I’d like to know so I can correct myself.” She didn’t expect him to give her an answer. She wasn’t worth his effort, she knew that but she figured she’d ask anyway. How else was she going to know what she had done wrong?

Another soft sigh escaped her lungs. For a long moment she held his gaze, eyes searching. Then she went on tiptoe and kissed his forehead and nuzzled his cheek before heading out to go to the kitchen to try the fruit.

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