After Hours

[Caillen Winters]

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sexy table by Libri! <3

He stood at the gate for a while, just watching.


The old dilapidated Chien Hotel gaped down at him, bare eye-sockets covered up by scraps of material or wooden boards as the inhabitants made desperate their plans to keep warm for the winter. It looked strangely bare, not yet cloaked in winter white but already suffering from the chilly sting.


The old metal bones of the gate swung open soundlessly, as though they knew now the importance of his presence here - their rusty hinges oiled by the expectant air, silent as it held its breath. Caillen exhaled a cloud of white before pushing open the door to his old life.


He knew, just by the scents of the corridor, that Alaine was not here. Her presence would have been notable immediately. The other, though, she was here. And the wolfdog knew, in his rattling chest, that it was her he had come to see. Large footpaws were soundless on the wooden slats. He had learned many things this past moon; Stealth, strength. Loss. But it was time to put all his cards on the table. It was time to return to his childhood sweetheart, and the woman who had broken his dreamer's heart.


The dark royal-blue scarf he wore, reminiscent of his time with another woman close to his heart, was pulled from about his thickly-ruffed ivory throat, and wound about one arm like a bandage. Avoiding a familiar step, who's traitorous creak would herald his arrival, Caillen mounted the steps with the strange hollowness of memory pressing against his skull.


Then he stood outside her door.


He knew she was within, because he could hear her voice - The familiar lilting tones of it burning in his chest. The youth took a deep breath. Then, because he felt no calmer, another. One large hand ran absently through shaggy bangs of sunlight and soft grey, revealing in full the still-cold of ice blue that had once been cloudless sky. Was this worth it? Was this pain worth it? He knew the answer.


He'd had the answer all along.


The door swung open silently, revealing her to seeking gaze. For a moment, those same eyes ravaged her; hurt and hollow were they, but lingering still on the familiar fur, the unfamiliar curves. "Sylvie."