[ P ] I’m at a pay phone trying to call home

i did a bad thing
feeling the heat.

When she left the tavern, it was late. The sun had set hours ago, leaving the moon alone in the night sky. She stepped outside, the brisk autumn air sending a chill up her spine. She spent the evening observing, sitting in a quiet corner as wolves settled in for the night. But when the hour grew late, she longed for the solitude of her own quarters and the warmth of her bed. The streets were quiet, law abiding citizens tucked into their beds while those with less than pure intentions lingered in the shadows. She walked with purpose, with the confidence of a soldier.

Until the sense that someone was watching her crept up her back. She tensed, eyes searching the shadows a little harder, her ears straining for even the slightest of sounds. The ominous feeling didn’t go away, instead it seemed to grow with each passing minute. More than capable of defending herself, she didn’t quicken her pace, forcing herself to continue as if nothing were wrong, as if the hairs on the back of her neck didn't prickle with unease.

The skittering of stones gave him away. Dark ears twitched, pinpointing the sound as she spun on her heels. What she hadn’t expected was how massive the stranger was. He collided with her like a freight train. The impact knocked the wind from her lungs, forcing a grunt from her parted lips. Her anger was quick, a snarl curling her lips as it echoed off the cobblestone street in response. His grip was like a vice as he tried to drag her down a dark alley, the promise of evil glittering in his dark eyes. She lashed out, a flurry of fangs and claws as she struggled in his grasp."Let me go!" She hissed.

Her heart thundered in her chest and her blood raced in her ears. Dark jaws snapped at the stranger, doing her best to fend him off. But when he knocked her off her paws, her head bounced off the unforgiving ground and she saw stars. Her body went limp as she desperately held onto the edges of consciousness, all too aware of just how alone she was.

Speaking

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Ahkoris could not explain why he was out so late. He had always been a punctual wolf when he had been in the Highlands. But he had grown used to the nightlife that had been his profession for the last two years. Maybe he had grown too used to it, because he had not been able to chase down even a wisp of sleep. Tossing and turning, feeling like a stranger in what he was told was his home, he had sneaked into the night, finding calm in that familiar blackness, in the hustle of partygoers, with the laughter from the taverns. It felt more familiar to him than his own bed.

But then came a smell. The acrid scent of panic. And that sound -- "Let me go!" -- which sent a shiver down his spine. It came from nearby, down an alley he had almost walked past, and instantly, he was turning in that direction, that voice, that voice beckoning him. It was defiant and angry, but he also knew that smell. It was the smell of trouble, and it clung to his nostrils like blood. And for the first time since he had arrived in the Mainlands, he found he knew what to do. He did not hesitate before he took off in the direction of the noise, because he knew she was close. He had basically stumbled across her. But no, not just her, them. When he arrived on the scene, the woman was on the ground, and a man stood over her. Ahkoris did not need to guess why.

His muscles stilled, and an icy calm swept over him. His body moved without his conscious thought. He stepped forward, his face hard, but when he spoke, his voice was calm. "This is not the night," he said, stepped even nearer. He could see that the woman was half-conscious. Clearly she had been thrown, and not without a fight. She looked strong, and the assailant was bleeding. "And you are not the one who will best me." He moved even closer, pressing the advantage of surprise. The attacker looked wary now, having half-stepped off of the woman, unsure. Ahkoris almost hoped he would make a move. This was something he knew like the back of his hand. This was something he was meant to do.

He let the silence drag, listening to the woman's breaths on the ground. And then: "Go." It was spoken with an icy finality, in the tone of a man who had killed not long before -- and could certainly do so again. Ahkoris knew the assailant would flee. These midnight attackers, these sick, twisted bastards, they did what they did to women who were alone because they were afraid. And Ahkoris was not. So when the man fled, he did not wait to see if he'd truly gone, because he knew he would not be back. Cowardice was unchangeable.

Instead, he knelt down beside the woman on the ground. Her smell, her voice, were so familiar to him. But it was most likely because she reminded him of Anastasia, one of Danya's brothel girls. The one he had not been able to save. That night had gone so much differently than this... And only now was he startling to feel the bubbles of relief expand inside him. "You're alright," he breathed, trying to assess whether she had injuries besides the obvious head trauma without touching her. He did not want to startle her more. "I'm here." It was the only thing he could think to say.

""

table by ferus, image by ashon, bg from unsplash

i did a bad thing
feeling the heat.

Her lashes fluttered, her vision still blurry as she clung to the edges of consciousness. She struggled, however feebly, to stay awake and keep the man at bay. She was unaware of the third wolf that approached, cold commands dropping like rocks. So when her assailant started to step away, she wasn't sure why, but it was a relief all the same. The scrape of nails against stone signaled both the departure of one and the nearing of another. He brought with him a smoky cologne. A ghost of a smile flittered across her lips, her eyes still mostly closed. She knew that scent. She also knew that she shouldn't be so indulgent, allowing memories of what could have been to take hold. You're alright.I'm here.

Looking up, she blinked slowly, the world coming back into view as she found herself staring into pink irises. She was thrust suddenly into consciousness, the feeling of whiplash settling in the form of a headache. "Ahkoris..." She breathed out his named. It felt strange on her tongue, she hadn't said it out loud in so long. All she could do was stare, trying to make sense of the man in kneeling beside her. Confusion was written into the lines of her face, accompanied by a symphony of anger, hurt and relief. "I thought you were dead." Her voice was low, but even amongst her whispers, there was accusation.

Her mourning had been full of confusion. She remembered when he was officially considered missing and worry gnawed away at everyone. He'd been a friend, no, something more than that. But what? She wasn't sure. He'd done nothing, said nothing. Not that she had done anything different. She thought maybe he felt the same, but again she couldn't be sure. With time, she put it all in a box with a note 'to dealt with later'. A poor choice now that it all came rushing out.

Her eyes wandered the planes of his face, searching, which she found to be mostly the same, though he was a bit older now, harder somehow. "Where have you been?" She rasped, a frown tugging at her lips. Her ears would tip back, falling against her throbbing head. She made an effort to sit up, which felt like a monumental task that was quickly failing. A wave of nausea followed. It had been two years and he just showed up out of the blue, the moment she needed him the most and all he has to say is I'm here. The rise of her anger returned some color to her pale cheeks. Already feeling vulnerable from her attack, she found herself sorely unprepared for the rush of emotion.

Speaking

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The woman stirred, and abruptly, her eyes opened. "Ahkoris..." He blinked, taken aback. He was captivated by her gaze staring up at him. She looked confused. Was it the possible head injury she had suffered, or was it... "I thought you were dead." It was undeniable now. Ahkoris felt the familiar swooping sensation of surprise and dread. She knew him. And her scent was familiar to him because he knew her, too. From Before. Her tone was cut with accusation, and he knew why. It had been years since he had been in the Mainlands. Years since the war... If she had known him, he had disappeared for all that time, been dead to her for that time. He blinked again, trying to refocus, and trying to calm the beating of his heart.

"Are you injured?" he asked her somewhat breathlessly, opting for the safer path of ignoring her comments. But she was having none of it. "Where have you been?" Not a moment later, she tried to sit up, and he lurched closer, knowing she would be unable to, instinctively, before she did. She wobbled, and he saw the feeling of nausea pass across her face. Yes, it had to be a head injury. She had hit the ground hard. He supported her with his shoulder without thinking, invading her space without hesitation to keep her from falling again. And her scent... It was worse here, so close to her. It made it hard to think. And she was angry -- he could scent that, too. Once she was stable, he released his support, stepping back, having half a mind that she might try to attack him. His heart continued to stutter out an uneven beat.

"I am Ahkoris," he began slowly, feeling like every second her eyes were on him, he was receiving a scalding burn, "and I have been gone for two years. I am sorry, but..." How could he explain it to her? How would she understand he knew her, but did not know her all the same? "I know that I was a First Lieutenant in the Army, and that I was injured during the Rebellion. From there, when I woke up, I was in the Highlands, and I... I was lost. My memory, I mean." He did not want to ramble, and he felt himself rambling, so he tried to cut it off. "I did not know who I was until my sister found me and brought me home. I'm still trying to figure that out." He looked away from her, suddenly ashamed. "I know you, but I do not... I do not remember your name. I'm sorry." He tried to pack all of his emotion into those two words, but he knew it would fall flat. She stared at him with the eyes of someone who cared. Someone who had loved him. And he'd been lost.

""

table by ferus, image by ashon, bg from unsplash

i did a bad thing
feeling the heat.

He tried to ignore her, asking about any injuries she sustained. A sigh hissed its way from between her lips. Of course she was injured, but she'd survive. Her head throbbed and her body would likely ache tomorrow. A few cuts and bruises stung, but otherwise she seemed relatively ok. Physically anyways, only time would tell what she suffered psychologically. But that wasn't the focus of her attention. When she tried to sit up, he was at her side in an instant, pressing into her, offering his shoulder to support her. She floundered with the desperate desire to wrap her arms around him and press herself close into his embrace. This close, the smokiness and earthiness of his scent surrounded her, invading her senses in a way it had not in years. His warmth seeped into her bones and she found herself leaning against him, her body relaxing and allowing him to steady her. When he stepped away, she felt the loss of his touch and couldn't help but lean towards him. It had been years and he touched her with a casualness that she wished didn't stir things inside her.

I'm sorry, but... She felt the stroke of anger, his apology seemed so simple. He'd been alive this entire time and he all had to say was I'm sorry. "Thats it?" She seethed. "You're sorry?" Her eyes narrowed with displeasure. Her lips threatened to lift, wrinkling with her temper. He went on, telling her things she already knew about him. She knew he had been a first lieutenant, she knew he had disappeared after the rebellion. But what she hadn't known was this entire time he had been in the highlands. He'd been so close and yet she had never stumbled upon him. Just a few words seemed to make the world stop turning. I was lost. My memories I mean. Her jaw dropped, lips parting slightly. I don't remember your name. A sadness washed over her as she swallowed the gasp that tried to escape. It was suffocating. It would explain the way he looked at her, the lack of warmth, the politeness reserved for those he didn't know. He avoided her gaze while she couldn't do anything but look at him. It was all too much. She still reeled with being assaulted, she could still smell the man on her fur and it was sickening, but now she was also faced with the loss of losing Ahkoris all over again.

"My name is Sybil." Her voice was barely a whisper, her own gaze dropping to her paws. He claimed to know her but also didn't know her. The grasp she had on any hope was feeble and slipping through her fingers faster than she cared to admit. She shook her head, but the action was more to herself than to him. What a universe it must be to punish her not going after the one thing she had wanted all those years ago. Her brows were furrowed and her emotions were uncharacteristically etched into her face. A ragged breath did little to clear her head, it failed to chase away the suffocating feeling she experienced for the first time in her life.

Speaking

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Her emotions slid across her face like water. First, there was shock -- and then anger, and betrayal, and something more carnal that told Ahkoris he'd meant something to her -- and then.... Perhaps the worst of all, there was devastation. Loss. He felt her small gasp, more than heard it. It rippled through his body, too. Shame barreled up his chest and threatened to suffocate him. Those eyes that watched her were wide as coins and he felt that he had never seen someone more beautiful, and more sad.

"My name is Sybil." The words came at last, breaking the dam of emotion welling between them, and she looked down for the first time. The spotlight on his soul left with her gaze. But now, he was left with the cold, familiar feeling of knowing and not knowing. His old life tormented him, and her scent tangled in the cobwebs of his memories. He wanted to know her. So terribly, he did. But the name was like any other. He assigned it to her broken, bleeding frame, and he felt more helpless than he ever had in his life.

"Sybil," he breathed. "Do you -- did you live, with me? Where I live?" he asked a moment later. He would not leave her here like this. She had hit her head, and he could smell the rusted blood from the cuts and scrapes she'd been given. "We cannot stay here. I know men like him." His voice grew dark, but Sybil was not Anastasia. He had gotten here in time, and she had lived. "They're vultures, and they circle." With that, he stepped back, allowing her to get to her feet on her own. He did not want to crowd her, not now that he knew...something had happened between them. Everything had made it obvious. Had they been lovers? Dear friends? Something else?

""

table by ferus, image by ashon, bg from unsplash

i did a bad thing
feeling the heat.

He repeated her name, toying with the syllables on his tongue. But hearing his her name on his lips did little to lift her spirits. It didn't take long for him to begin asking questions. Where did she live? Did she live with him? "Yes and no." She started. "Nassar is my closest friend, which is how you and I met. I met her when I joined the army." Her voice was soft as she explained, tentatively meeting his gaze. It didn't sit right with her, explaining their history to him, having to share details that he should know. "I spend a majority of my days in the Tiamat house, but I'm in and out. So no, I don't live with you.

It was like he was someone else, but he still looked like the Ahkoris she knew. His eyes were the same shade of pink, the earthen tones of his pelt were no different. But his life over the last two years had changed him. The was darkness to his voice when he spoke that suggested he was intimately familiar with what went bump in the night now. A faint but no less sad smile touched her lips. Its presence was fleeting as she rose to her feet, her face falling once again. She swayed on her feet, her eyes closing against the wave of nausea and dizziness that crashed over her. Only when it passed did she take a step forward, now questioning whether she wanted to sleep in her bed tonight.

She was quiet, uncharacteristically so. But not that he would realize that. Her teeth worried her lip and her paws scraped the ground lightly. An exhaustion chased her unlike anything she had ever experienced. Lost in her own thoughts, her vision blurred as tears welled in her eyes, though she stubbornly refused to let them spill. She blinked, trying to grab at the tendrils of her strength and pull herself together.

Speaking

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"Yes and no. Nassar is my closest friend, which is how you and I met. I met her when I joined the army." She watched him almost out of the corners of her eyes, like looking into his face was too strange or painful. He nodded, accepting her words as the unflinching truth, because why would she lie? From what he knew of his mother, she had a way with others -- and it would not be a surprise if she had close friends in the region. It would not be a surprise if one of those friends were Sybil. "I spend a majority of my days in the Tiamat house, but I'm in and out. So no, I don't live with you."

He did not miss the punctuated syllable, but he was not offended by it. He watched as she stood -- almost falling, while he resisted the urge to help her. He had a feeling she would not want it. She remained quiet, like a ghost, and he saw tears well in her unwilling eyes. He clenched his jaw, looking away. He wanted to give her privacy; he felt that it was what she wanted. But he couldn't leave her. "I'm sorry this didn't...go as expected," he said. "Any of it."

He tried to think of what else to say, but he was not verbose as a rule, and nothing good came to him. "I'll take you back to my home. You'll have food, a bed, and company -- from my mother, of course." Not him. He would not want to make her uncomfortable. He looked at her, and his own eyes were sad, his own lips downturn. "Let's go." Who knew of those would be the last words they spoke? Who knew of the awkward pain in the air would continue between them for the rest of their lives?

exit

""

table by ferus, image by ashon, bg from unsplash

i did a bad thing
feeling the heat.

He was still Ahkoris, whether he remembered or not. He was as silent as he was before. While she had grown accustomed to his quiet demeanor, it could just be as infuriating as it was comforting. Though in his defense, this was uncharted waters. She was a stranger to him. Only she knew their history.

When he did break the tense silence, she would have preferred his silence. I'm sorry... Another apology spilled from his lips. She scoffed. To say tonight was unexpected was the understatement of the year. She could only shake her head.

Deep down, she knew he was trying to be helpful. But ever word that he filled the space between them with, just made it all worse. She couldn't stop the dry, humorless laugh that spilled from her dark jaws. "Fine." There simply wasn't any energy left for her to fight him. At least back at his home she could get a good nights rest. Word would eventually get to Nassar and she had no doubts that her friend would be poking her in.

A dejected sigh left her lungs in a huff. The silence consumed them. Her mind was a jumbled mess, torn between the trauma of being attacked and the knowledge that Ahkoris still breaths but doesn't remember his past. An eternity would pass before they arrived home and she could break away from him. With a mumbled goodnight, she vanished, fleeing down a hallway to get away from the living reminder of what once was.

exit

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