[m] [ro] there’s a hate inside me

Levent Kartal · 10-12-2012, 07:11 PM

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

flesh is burning you can smell it in the air
cause men like you have such an easy soul to steal

Word Count → 905 :: Levent does bad things to someone in this post; read at own risk.

Heavy puffs of air accompanied loud hoof-beats as Levent Kartal rode into Halifax. He pulled back on the reins and panted a command for the mare to slow down, and the rhythm on the pavement slowed from gallop to canter to trot. He guessed they’d need to head down to the ocean to wash the well-lathered horse, but he didn’t trust the coast so shortly after the hurricane had raged across the city. He’d no doubt most of the docks and boats he’d accepted as part of the view from the end of the street would have been torn away, and he was almost worried that the whole earth would tear away, too, dragging him into the water.

The man guessed he didn’t need more reason for the horse to dislike him, though. Mai had been fussy the entire trip, and even now she tried to stop and gather her breath rather than slow steadily as he asked her to. They fought for dominance a few times, but Lev steered her to their current residence to grab something that could pass for a bucket and cloth to wash her down with.

Mai had slowed to a walk by the time they reached the little storefront that was their newest little home. The Luperci dismounted and led the paint back around to the hidden garage where she stayed, calling out a jovial greeting (or as jovial as he could feel anymore): “Wilson, I’m home!”

“What’s up?” replied a distinctly canine voice.

Levent’s fur stood on end, and his lips wrinkled back with alarm even as Mai blew disapprovingly through her nose. The man released her bridle, trusting her not to run too far off while her tack was still on, and crept into the darkness of the garage. The cloying odor of marijuana lay heavily in the space, but when he drew a slightly deeper breath there was a stench underlying it that caused his heart to leap into his throat.

“Y’ don’t gotta be that way,” the voice continued reprovingly, and a lithe dark shape rose from a chair with a squeak. Levent caught the long muzzle of a tan-pointed, short-haired dog, whose dotted brows lifted appraisingly. The black Luperci stepped a little closer, and smiled. Her voice was a buzz. “Lighten up, y’ know what I’m sayin’?”

It was hard to think, breathing this air, and harder to speak the words caught up in his throat. “This is where I live,” Levent said slowly, too slowly, cream fingers clenching into a pair of fists. That smell. “There was a cat here. The cat is mine.” His voice deepened, darkened, not so desperate as wildly possessive. The cat was his and that meant everything.

The dog looked at him, nonplussed. “Oh. Want some?”

The room began to take shape. The smell dribbled from her tan jaw, dribbled down her small, pert breasts, puddled on the floor. There was a shape on the floor, and it was white, and it was a leg.

Levent didn’t remember moving, later. He didn’t remember a lot. All he remembered was that smell, that smell mixed with the cannabis and her own scent acrid with the same kind of fear coming from his own pores. She made a slow noise of alarm when he landed on top of her, his claws digging into her arms and his teeth bared. It would be too easy to pull out a knife and kill her, but the tragedy of a man immortal was that the pain would never end, might not even slowly fade. It was too fast.

So he held her throat in his mouth, and his fingers ventured underneath the waistband of her shorts. They did things that made her yelp and sob, and the sounds made his ears flatten and his teeth clench until she ceased making any sound and her breasts stopped heaving under his scrawny body.

It was only then that Levent released his grip on her jaw, dragging his fingers along her pelvic bone and smearing diluted pink there. He straightened, breathing, and with this hate in his heart let his pale eyes wash across the room again. There was more of the body: the white leg, a shoulder bone, a mutilated face. He shut his eyes quickly, breathed, drew in more hate, and opened them again.

The face was splashed with tabby markings.

He could never recreate the noise that left his lips, a shocked sort of squeak and sigh that spoke of regret and relief and disgust and distress. He shuffled backwards again, his chest heaving, and staggered out of the garage. Mai had retreated to the other side of the street, the whites of her eyes showing as she caught his scent. He started to walk toward her, to calm her with a word, but nothing came out.

There was a meow. He turned, collapsing to his knees with a jolt of pain and opening up his arms.

“There was a dog,” Wilson murmured, his voice curiously small. “The dog chased the other one; his name was Billy. I heard crying.” He stiffened in his companion’s skinny arms, his claws digging lightly into his skin. He drew back, dark amber eyes floating over Levent’s face. There was naked emotion in them for an instant, and then he pressed his head against Levent’s shoulder and mewed with infinite regret, “What has happened to you, mate…?”

so stand in line while they ink numbers in your head

you're a slave until the end of time here

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