table © Alaine
ooc: 900+ words?! YOU GO GLEN COCO
(Powerplay approved by Sylvie)
He could hear her sharp intake of breath, and desperately hoped it to be one of hurt; but upon falling bitter sky-blue gaze on to her countenance, Caillen found it only to be Sylvie's stiffening of her resolve, her preparing for verbal battle. His hide prickled with suppressed anger, that this heathen, this wench, this traitor dared stand between him and his mother. HIS mother. And yet there it was, magnifying the pain - The thorn that had been embedded in his heart since the pup first laid eyes upon this beautiful damsel. The sharp tugs of puppet string on his stony blood-pumping organ, and she the puppeteer behind it all!
And she dared tell him that is was not HIS BUSINESS?
Perhaps it was delayed shock at her appearance, or at her resilience to his ferocious and unexpected anger - Perhaps it was surprise that she dared continue to speak. Whatever the reason, Caillen was deadly silent as the collie-girl, now a young woman, reprimanded him. Her tongue slashed grievous wounds in the mental armor he had taken so long to prepare, but this was a bane for them both, for now the rage flowed freely through him, coursing like the waters at high tide. She spoke of Alaine and Daisuke, and the youth's mind became a black hole of disgusting erotic images, twisting grotesquely through his conscious until he craved to claw his eyes from their sockets, his fists trembling, his entire frame shivering with the need to rid itself of such horrible and carnal thought...
Sylvie crossed her arms, and dropped a bombshell.
Caillen's world momentarily exploded. Pregnant. Alaine had been pregnant? Miscarried? A dry breath rattled in his chest - Sylvie continued to speak, something about him being a brat, but he had stopped listening. He turned, slowly, to look at his mother; Seeking, desperately, her denial, her disproof of this thing that his foster-sister had declared so rationally. Emerald eyes, wide and hollow, gazed back at him, and he saw it - Her nights curled in horrible pain, the knowing of her shame so livid and constant that it had stripped her insides clean of feeling, the knowledge like an acidic paint peeler. Many nights she had waited for Caillen to come home, for Sylvie to come home, but she had found only loneliness and despair. Miscarried. There was a dull roaring in his head, and it took Caillen a long moment to realize that the sound was actually coming from him.
"-ARGH! ENOUGH!"
But Sylvie had not had enough, and she finished her stand with dagger-words, throwing them with perfect aim like a hatchet to his chest. "After all... it's not like she had anyone here." For a moment, he saw red - Deep red, clouding vision. The damsel continued to speak, but the male was no longer listening. He moved lightning-quick; One second, standing between the two women, central to the room, the next with both hands placed on the wall either side to Sylvie's head, his larger frame forcing her against it, his lightning-blue eyes and glistening white fangs only inches from her own fate. Behind him, Alaine had sprung to action; She hovered behind him, grabbing at his arms, trying to pull him away from her, but Caillen was stone. His eyes gazed directly down into hers, filled with a horrible pain that spoke of months of searching, months of feeling as though something had been torn from his chest.
"And what would you know," His gravelly voice vibrated between them, hot breath spilling into her face, "About sense, huh Sylvie?" Those wild eyes stared down at her, and for a moment they were filled with desperation, a horrible desperation, "What would you know about shame? About being there?!" The words were hissed between huge incisors. Alaine's claws dug unexpectedly into a muscle in his arm, and with a snarl of pain, Caillen jerked away from Sylvie. The movement flung Alaine off of him, and she stumbled onto the floor, face streaked with tears. "Stop this! Stop this madness!".
Speak think walk
[/html]