[M] the lovesong of the buzzard

POSTED: Sat Feb 08, 2014 5:59 pm

WARNING: This thread contains material exceeding the general board rating of PG-13. It may contain [b]very strong language[/b], drug usage, [b]graphic violence[/b], or [b]graphic sexual content[/b]. Reader discretion is advised.

(--) Read-only, November. There is a depiction of rape in this post, so be warned.

Snow cloaked the marshlands, but the frigid winter sea beat again and again against the shore, washing into sand and rock where frost did not touch. Loki sometimes wandered along the long shores of the bay at low tide, snatching up trapped fish and crustaceans and gathering pieces of shell and driftwood. He let the smell of salt and brine cloak his pack's scent as much as the essence of pine and other plants he rubbed himself in, and so he belonged to the landscape in a way only loners did. He might as well have been made out of the driftwood he scavenged for now: invisible, unimportant.

And so no one saw the coywolf witness until it was happening.

Grey ears shivered and pricked forward at a shriek like the scream of a hare. Silvery fur rose in a ridge underneath a leather cloak, and Loki cast all but one long piece of driftwood down into the rocks. He clasped it in his hands like a club, stepping forward, uncertain, slinking. His silver-tipped tail nearly dragged along the ground as, at a crouch, he snuck down the beach and came to hide behind an outcropping of stone. He peered, and saw.

There were three males -- one white as snow and handsome, another black-saddled and gruesome in his half-shifted form, and the third grizzled grey and grim-faced. The first had a fistful of blonde hair, hauling a slender tawny hybrid along a few steps before kicking her down again. His laughter was amiable, his voice high and pretty like his slim husky features. His boyish smile did not match the grip he had on the other's scalp.

Well, Holly, the husky drawled, tail wagging, found you! I said I would. He pulled her back up by her hair, and she cried out.

But through gritted teeth, she snarled. Da should've cut your head off after he did your cock. Hands reached up and tangled in her own bleached hair, attempting to relieve some of the pressure. She was trembling, barely keeping her feet. I'll always run, Zeke, she said, her voice coming out hollow.

Ice eyes regarded the girl a few moments, and then Zeke laughed. You're right. He glanced at the black-saddled wolf. Grackle, make sure she can't run.

The Secui perked his head then grinned. His spidery, half-formed legs dragged him slowly toward the girl, who screamed and wriggled. Her hands had been bound, and her elbows waggled as she tried to free them from their ropes -- but Grackle was at her legs, and all she could do was scream as she buckled, and there was blood and a crack --

The grizzled wolf spoke. Hey.

Zeke, who was watching his companion destroy Holly's legs with the same warm smile a father might watch a puppy with, jerked his head up and saw the silvery coywolf approaching them. He grinned, while Loki grabbed the driftwood club -- his dagger, he'd left it at home, why had he left it at home -- and yelled at them: Let her go!

My my, kiddo, can't you see this is personal? Zeke kicked the girl down, keeping a hand on her back. Grackle looked up and licked his bloodied lips.

Loki snarled. I have a pack at my back, each wolf stronger than ten of you put together. You'll release her, or I'll call for them and beat you until you don't have a fucking face left. The club wobbled even as he smacked it into his palm, betraying his nerves. He wasn't meant for this, for violence -- his face was deadly and still, but there was that slight tremor in his hands.

The white husky caught on to this, and chuckled. A pack? he asked, his high voice smooth and thoughtful. You smell of no other wolves. I'll call your bluff. He glanced at the grey male and nodded. End him.

Loki's eyes widened as he realized his disguised scent, his lie, wouldn't benefit him this time. He laid his ears back and snarled, even as the grizzled wolf approached him with dark purpose. When the Luperci came in reach, he swung -- but the stick was grabbed, broken into fragments, and thrown aside.

There was a fist in Loki's jaw, and he fell -- and teeth dug into his wrist, sharp, and it was only his scream and lack of struggles that kept his veins from being torn up. Instead, the wolf stood and kicked him once, twice, his expression never changing. Loki whimpered, curling into a ball to deflect the blows, covering his face. He was aware of his attackers and the girl's staring down at him as the kicks stopped, while Holly herself stared at him, deadpan.

Zeke bent and picked up the splintered shards of the driftwood. He looked at Holly, and grinned his boyish, pretty grin.

Loki bolted upright at the first terrible scream, but the grey wolf kicked him, again, again, and sometime he fell asleep.

* * *

And woke, whimpering, to night and the song of the sea.

You aren't dead. The female's voice drew him out of his sleep. He blinked, ghostly lilac eyes opening fully as he stared at the tawny hybrid. She was trembling. He smelled blood, but it was too dark to see it. Her hair, he noticed, was very, very long when it wasn't tangled in a fist. He'd thought her strong, but she was almost elfen, small.

Are you okay? Loki asked, and coughed. His ribs hurt. She stared at him. I'm Loki, he said. He didn't know why he didn't lie.

Hi, Loki, she said.

He coughed again, and whimpered. And he watched as Holly dragged herself toward the water. And the sea lapped over her back, and stung her wounds, and then she was gone, and Loki cried.

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