streetwise angel, booksmart devil

Lilin Soulstorm · 01-09-2012, 04:49 PM

[html]

these two are messed up, brah.

Word Count → 656

A pounding beat and frenzied cacophony followed the unwanted occupancy of her mind, reverberating profoundly throughout her entire body and soul. She could not fathom nor understand the reasons why it had happened here and now, in the presence of a perfect stranger who could have taken her life in the midst of her momentary crippling ailment. Life worked in unpredictable ways, this being the perfect proof to sustain such a bold statement. Her cage had been rattled in more ways than one, causing the slight trembling of her limbs and a surreal feeling to overcome her. She couldn’t have explained it even if she’d tried: the numbness brought forth by the silent aftermath, the sheer disorientation intertwined with fury viable in her Mediterranean eyes and the sudden urge to heave right then and there. Not knowing what to do or think was possibly the worst feeling she’d ever encountered thus far.

If there’s one thing the male understood, it was silence. It was noticeable from how little he had spoken thus far along with his blatant resentment of strangers. He lived a life of desolation in which he found peace of mind, or so she assumed. Why his pelt was so heavily permeated by the scent of others was a mystery, one she would more than likely never resolve. Perhaps it was for the advantages he could not obtain as a loner; needed protection from a group in particular or to benefit from a friend’s company. How he could have obtained a companion with such an attitude, she was unsure of. But then again, he wasn’t “your average joe”, was he? Her dam had always preferred seclusion and yet she’d served two or three packs in her lifetime, post-Azathoth of course. Maybe his story was a similar one.

Then everything changed. He spoke before she even considered doing so herself, balancing his sudden change of heart with a conciliatory and highly unexpected gift. Still panting lightly from the ordeal she’d just experienced, Lilin grudgingly removed her wolf-hands from the side of her head as if doing so would consequently trigger another episode. The expression on her face had become solemn, somewhat reflecting his. While hers was dotted with a hint of fear and stupefaction, his held something much more staggering. It was recognition she saw, veiling those sanguine eyes of their usual intent. Recognition of what exactly? Had they met before? This she highly doubted, putting an immeasurable amount of faith in her own memory. Itachi. The name wasn’t familiar either.

She nearly refused the offering, still visibly shaken by the sudden affliction to have befallen her. It was still his fault. Her hunger suggested otherwise though and her body, as if governed by something else than her own mind, reached for the fresh meat dangling like a treat before her. There was nothing delicate about the way she yanked it from his hands, back pedaling as soon as the prize was securely within her grasp. It was feral instinct that overtook her actions; the way she boldly sunk her incisors into her meal and tore through it with evident need. She never once took her gaze away from his; as if afraid he would step forth and take it away. Introductions were purposely delayed. She was clearly apprehending the fact that it would please him to know her identity.

It was almost as if the roles had been reversed. He was willing to talk and she, on the other hand, was too obstinate to collaborate with the man who had somehow caused her pain. On the flip side, he had indeed relinquished his prized kill. This had earned him a considerable amount of brownie points, enough for her to speak. Stopping mid-bite, the juvenile offered her name in exchange for an explanation. “Lilin,” she murmured, pausing to scan his face for any understanding of what her name meant in demonology. “Have we met before?”

table by the Mentors!

Login




Remember me Lost Password?