Tonight your memory burns like a fire

I just sit in these flames and pray that you'll come back

POSTED: Sun Aug 31, 2014 12:03 am

Like a coward, he had run. That thought, more than the hangover, was what was pounding in the Rhiannon male's head. He turned his head to the left, his eyes falling on a beautiful white coyote hybrid. Taliesin grimaced. He had gotten drunk and brought the hybrid to... where? Where was he? His mis-matched eyes drifted around the room, not seeing anything familiar except the puddles of discarded clothing. His jeans, her dress. His shirt, her purse. He began to shift his weight, preparing to slide out of the bed, when her hand drifted over his shoulder, caressing his chest. "Where ya goin' lover?" Her voice was sleepy, but suspicious. Tal cringed, unsure of how to answer. Instead, he rolled over, meeting her deep blue eyes, which were regarding him suspiciously.

"I... uh... well..." His stammers were doing nothing for the coy-wolf, who proceeded to sit up and shriek at him, making him wince in pain. "Are you tellin' me that you were gonna leave me wit' out sayin' a word? Do I look like some two bit floozy to you, pal?" He brought up his arms to defend his face as she began slapping him with the nearest thing to her hand, her pillow. "You gimme the best night o' my life, an' now you gonna run out on me? Uh-Uh, buddy boy, ain't happenin', I ain't signed on for this shit!" The pillow exploded, sending feathers of every hue and size flying like some unearthly blizzard. The blows continued, from the woman's sharp little fists now instead of from a gentle pillow. Taliesin jumped out of the bed, grabbing his jeans and shirt from her floor before diving into the hallway, slamming the door shut behind him.

He yelped as her weight slammed into the door behind him, his eyes wide. He could hear her scratching at the door like an enraged feline, spitting curses and threats at him. It didn't take him long at all to make his way out of the house, her house, obviously. He hit the street running, his clothing clutched to his chest. When he was reasonably sure she'd stopped chasing him, he paused to dress. Something hard and lumpy poked him in the thigh, and he reached into his jeans pocket.

A large piece of green stone peeked at him from his open palm, glittering in the light of dawn. The stone hung from a fine gold chain, obviously luperci made and not human scavenged. Either she had given it to him, or he had pocketed it himself. It was likely the second option, having lost quite a few of his morals since his flight from D'Arte. The hangover had not abated in the least with his flight from the harridan's den of horror, and he weighed his options. He could head back to the small community and risk another joyful encounter with the lover scorned which Hell hath no fury like, or he could begin walking until he found traders or another small community. He chose the latter option, deciding strangers were preferable to the scorned woman.

He had lost track of time, a piece of willow bark in his mouth, the sun hanging low on the horizon now. He had walked most of the day when the smell of a campfire reached him. The need for a drink was a powerful one, and he reached into is pocket, separating the stone from its necklace, sliding the stone into one pocket and looping the necklace around his wrist like a bracelet. Both would be valuable trade, and worth every blow to the head the woman had given him. He rubbed a particularly tender bump on his head for a moment, then approached the campfire with an easy smile.

It wasn't long before he found himself in a dilapidated house, sitting on a musty mattress with a new bottle of luperci made whiskey in his hand. The mattress had holes in it where the mice had chewed on it to get the the stuffing. With his fre hand he was worrying at the edge of one of the holes. Memories were playing in his mind, memories he wanted to silence for the night, silence for the rest of his life before they could burn him alive with the guilt he felt. He hated the guilt, and he loved the pain it gave him.

He drew a deep drink from the bottle, deliberately conjuring the images of the two women who drove him to drink. First Gemma. Though he knew she was scarred forever because of his now dead son, Liam, the memory he conjured was of her smiling at him the first night they met, in the abandoned hotel. Her scent filled his nose, overpowering the musty smell of the dank room, overpowering the lingering scent of the unfamiliar hybrid woman. Next he remembered the way she had moved, the way she had loved him for being who he was. The way she had continued to love him, endlessly and untiringly, until he had failed in in an unforgivable way, by falling in love with Sophia.

He built her picture in his mind, seeing her again in front of him, feeling fleetingly the caress of her hand on his face. He sighed heavily, drinking again from the bottle. Mis-matched eyes opened briefly, dismissing the painful memory of Gemma. He had failed Sophia too, and in much worse ways. He had loved Sophia, but not as deeply as he should have. When she came to him he should have stopped pining for Gemma and given everything to Sophia. He shouldn't have blamed her for the death of their final litter, he should have held her and comforted her at their second shared loss. He could see her now, crossing her arms and tapping her foot in that impatient way of hers, her red hair falling over her shoulders exotically. He had failed her in so many ways, but most of all in not truly loving her.

Again his mind returned to Gemma. He would have given anything to have her at his side, to have her in his arms telling him he was a fool, telling him he needed to come home. He would have given everything to be with her, would have given his right hand to be given the privilege of kneeling at her feet. He spoke out loud, not knowing he did, speaking to her memory as he continued to drink. "I only wanted to take care of you, Gemma. You and only you, forever..." A deep rage filled him. It was a burning rage, a fury at himself, and at his failures. He lashed out and the rotting wooden night stand hit the wall, shattering and releasing a cloud of wooden dust. The former healer screamed incoherently, stumbling across the room in search of other things to destroy, anything that reached his hands falling before his drunken rage.

He didn't remember any of this as he sat up in the early morning light. The smell of old wood and blood filled his nose and he ran his fingers through his mane. The blood was his, scratches from flying debris and shattering glass. His tongue tasted like ashes and old regrets. He groaned and laid his head in his hands, hating himself and knowing that tomorrow would be more of the same. His first thought as he opened his eyes came slowly, and he said the words out loud, tasting the bitterness, the self recrimination on his tongue. "Like a coward, I ran..." He would keep running.

((WC: 1278))
Last edited by Tal Tlvdatsi on Sun Aug 31, 2014 12:31 am, edited 1 time in total.
When the dark unfolds its wings do you sense the strangest things?
Things no one would ever guess and mere words cannot express?

User avatar
Vannah
Luperci Mate to Gemma
Half of my blood
LIFE IS PAIN

POSTED: Sun Aug 31, 2014 12:30 am

OOC:// OOC TEXT HERE

She was a whisper upon the breeze. She was a scent without a place. A face without a name. She watched impassively as he destroyed the room around him in a drunken stupor. There was no point in her doing anything just now when he wouldn't remember this night. She watched too as he slept the sleep of the uneasy, tossing and turning and fitful in his dreams. Good, he deserved to suffer for what he had done to her. The ghost, the hallucination, she shivered angrily. Her anger was a cloud around her, a woman scorned, a woman abandoned, a love that was not yet dead. Not for her at least.

Eventually the sun rose and with it the self destructing male stirred. The shadow moved. The anger boiled as a cracked pained voice spoke. The hallucination chose that moment to speak, "You're damned right Taliesin dir Rhiannon. You're a dirty bastard coward. You ran rather than face me and your son. You left your daughter behind. You left your family." The ghost moved forwards and enraged sapphire orbs raged. A scarred face came into his view, long ivory curls and a torn ear. She was fairly shaking. He wouldn't get away from her any longer, he would face her wrath, even though it was all in his mind. His voice was a whisper, "You're not real." Her hand collided with his cheek, throwing his head to the side. "The hell I'm not real!!" Her fingers twisted into his dirty hair, yanking on his scalp. Oh he would feel pain but if he tried to touch her himself, well his fingers would glide right through her.

coding and image by westy
Gemma Tlvdatsi

POSTED: Sun Aug 31, 2014 12:43 am

A voice came from the shadows, and that voice was a fire in his blood. There was no way she could be here, today, but there she was standing in the grey dawn like an avenging angel. She couldn't be real. He didn't recall murmuring those words, but she responded with a sharp slap that sent him reeling back until her hand fisted in his hair, steadying him. He was on his knees for her as he had so fervently wished the night before in his stupor, before the rage had claimed his memory of the night. His eyes stung as he looked up at her, her blue eyes twin orbs of fury.

He whispered her name, tasted each syllable, felt the whine of pain at her words. She was right. He had abandoned them all. His shoulders drooped in defeat even before he began speaking. "I had to, Gemma. I had to leave." He couldn't remember now why he'd had to leave, what made him run, what made him take every trail he could to avoid being tracked, knowing he could be pursued. His hand lifted to take her wrist, the wrist that wasn't attached to the hand pulling his hair painfully. His hand drifted through her as if she were nothing more than smoke, and yet the pulling of his matted mane intensified.
When the dark unfolds its wings do you sense the strangest things?
Things no one would ever guess and mere words cannot express?

User avatar
Vannah
Luperci Mate to Gemma
Half of my blood
LIFE IS PAIN

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