dear hunter

Vesper · 12-10-2011, 10:41 PM

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every memory that I hold

were all just scars in the making

Word Count → 461 :: There is enough angst in my post for one. Tongue

Vesper hadn’t been this sick over a girl for ages. And almost as soon as the words fled from her mouth she could feel her heart clenching, her mind rushing back to a bloodied dawn. She had dropped the boy’s neck and looked across to her, pleading her to leave with her, pleading her to come over the grassy hills wet with melted March snow.

Juniper had spoken similar words—perhaps far more bluntly, perhaps in a voice creeping upwards into a scream. The grey coyote girl had huddled with the others as they stared at their leader’s body, and the lone wolf hybrid had only stepped backwards, turned, ran away, not looked over her shoulder once.

Maybe once.

As she clenched her teeth on whatever was trying to come up from her lungs, not wanting to spew words that she would later regret, Vesper looked at the dark girl who snorted and teased and shifted into her original form—four-legged and lean and lovely as ever. She didn’t know if she had been expecting something different, just because she’d been turned luperci.

The suggestion forced a smirk on the hybrid’s lips. “Sounds like a plan; I’m sure you’re a rabbit hunting champion.” She took some time to transform as well, though feeling all four paws on the ground did not comfort her as much as she thought it would have. She realized how cold she was since they were no longer closely sharing body heat—but she did not shiver or speak of it, only exhaled a cloud of pale vapor and went on playfully, “I’ll teach you how to catch something larger next time.”

And with every intention of running past her, bumping her lightly with a hip, Vesper stepped forward. She hoped that a chase would bring her back to her carefree mentality, and she edged toward that goal—at least until she was standing beside the she-wolf at last. Her resolve shattered, then, and she knew she didn’t want to take another step.

“I’m sorry,” Vesper breathed. “I can claim to be different, I can claim all I want about myself, but I’m selfish. You deserve much better than me.” The words she almost wanted Juniper to say, ages ago when Ves had only been a silly, stupid girl—and yet the opposite of what she had told Juniper, once. Then ridiculously, picking out the most trivial of things in a tone that was decidedly not, she said, “You don’t have to catch a rabbit for me.” She sounded like a worthless child again, and almost hung her head like one. But this admission was to herself as much as it was to Blind—how selfish she was, how hypocritical.

Since when had life become so complicated?

Vesper Optime by Nat; table code from the Mentors!

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