Trust and Vices
#1
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Word Count: 549


Denali had said something about a city. He had said that his mother had gotten his coat from there. Pixie knew little about such a place place; she had only briefly passed by the outskirts of Halifax when she had first headed south to Crimson Dreams. The most she could make from it was ruined buildings, not unlike the many other towns and cities she had passed through traveling up the coast for most of her life. When she had first seen Halifax, she thought it wasn’t much different from the others: another depressing collection of ruins built by humans long ago, now perhaps populated by a few Luperci but nothing spectacular.


But human ruins meant human artifacts. And human artifacts often meant human clothing. The snowfall had stopped for the time being, and the weather had warmed up enough to convince the wolf who hated frost (and who, as a result, had one of the most ironic names—no, THE most ironic name—that a wolf who hated frost could have) to venture away from her pack’s territory for the first time that winter to travel northeast to the city. It wasn’t just to get warmer clothing, though she was reminded of that reason as the cold wind blew on her and her horse, with her existing cloak doing nothing to protect her. No, Pixie was a traveler at heart and always would be; whether snow or sunshine outside, she always felt the gripping need to explore places she had never been before. And that urge was impossible to resist when she heard word of a place that she had not only not been to before, but also had some other value to it if she visited it, such as, say, the possibility of finding winter garments. Plus there was a good possibility of meeting other Luperci in Halifax, which was never a bad thing.


The chestnut stallion carried his rider for a good portion of the day, with a short stop about midway through the journey, near the border of Cour Des Miracles. Pixie didn’t know much about the pack, other than Mars Russo had been a part of it. He didn’t seem particularly pleased with it when she had met him, but she only had his opinion to rely on. For all she knew, they could be a group of benevolent canines. Perhaps on another good day she would go to the hills where she had met Mars and maybe find more wolves from this pack.


When they reached the outskirts of the city by the afternoon, Pixie stayed on Magic’s back and guided him through the streets of the abandoned town. As he usually was around human civilizations, the horse seemed more skittish than usual, but he continued slowly down the streets of Halifax. Pixie could smell traces of other Luperci, more than in most ruins she had seen in the past, and so she was more cautious than usual; Magic was on edge as it was, and if someone popped unexpectedly out of nowhere, he would be easily spooked. She also kept a watch out for any sort of old shops that could possibly contain coats and other warm clothing items, or scraps of cloth on the street that could be made into outfits.

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#2
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3+. Sorry, it's a bit rambly. The next one will be better.


She had woken far too early for her liking, still basking in the shock that was the appearance of Ezekiel de le Poer. Sunlight filtering in through the half-covered window, lacking glass to insulate the room itself, was her source of warmth as she lay sprawled across her half-destroyed mattress. There had to be a better way to fight the chill.

That was what prompted the departure from Inferni, the coymutt's feet taking her down a familiar path to the borders of Halifax, where she was sure to find something worthwhile. A blanket was first on her mind. A second one, to match the time-worn addition on the top of her bed. Alcohol came in at second place. She was always on the lookout for more liquor, a vice she desired to keep until it really wasn't neccessary anymore. When that day was, she didn't know.

It seemed fate had her list backwards; as she scavenged through an old convenience store, it was liquor she found first. A grin crossed her charcoal lips, delicate coymutt fingers reaching through the rusted metal frame of what had once been a refridgeration unit to grasp the neck of a bottle. Whiskey, rum, either one sufficed. She gently set the bottle into a fabric sling that hung on her back, used as a makeshift backpack, as she had none.

That was all that the store held, much to her displeasure. The Lykoi swored, heavy words coming out under her breath as she exited, looking about the streets. The smells were all similar, scents of Luperci past, but a strong and new smell dragged her to attention. There was someone else there, with an animal, from a place other than Inferni. She couldn't place scents of other packs like she could her own. And Dahlia de Mai, of course.

Her tawny feet carried her toward the stranger, crimson eyes darting in every which direction as she sought a figure. There, atop a horse no less. The girl was young, younger than Talitha at least, and the horse seemed uncomfortable as she lead him along the ruined streets. Talitha's approach was quiet, her attempt at being stealthy leaving her without her own guard. She simply wanted information, of course, on who the stranger was.

Her stop came several feet short of the Luperci on the horse, clearing her throat unintentionally. No words came from her, but she did continue her stare, curled chestnut locks falling into her eyes.


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#3
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Word Count: 412

Her violet eyes darted to the red-furred woman who exited a building just down the street. The stranger clearly stood out against the surroundings of gray and brown. Pixie reached up and pushed a stray strand of her own crimson hair out of her eyes so she could see the approaching woman more clearly; her heritage seemed similar to that of Bangle’s, a mix of coyote, wolf, and perhaps something else. As she came closer, Pixie dismounted her horse and looked the stranger over again, tilting her head slightly in curiosity. She couldn’t tell if the other female belonged to a pack or lived on her own; she did not recognize any particular pack scent on her, though she had only really gotten to know two—or three, if you could count her brief meeting with Mars Russo while he was in Cour des Miracles.


As with all strangers, Magic was suspicious, but oddly he seemed to be more focused on what the woman was carrying as opposed to the woman herself. Pixie faintly recognized the scent coming from the sling; she had once tried alcohol after she had come across an old wine cellar. She had been younger then and had found the taste of it bitter and unpleasant, but it did have a strange, intoxicating feeling to it. She had found herself wanting more of the wine, and one sip had turned into at least half of a bottle before she realized she was getting dizzy and left the cellar. Ever since she had wondered what it would be like to try it again, now that she was older and prepared for what the experience was like.


In the meantime, it was only polite if she greeted the unfamiliar woman. “Hi,” she greeted the coymutt, waving her hand and snickering to herself at the awkwardness of it. “Are you from around here, or are you visiting?” If this woman lived in the city, or visited it frequently, she could give her useful directions as to where to find some clothing or other supplies that would be valuable to her. “You can probably tell that this is my first time here. But I heard there was clothing around here, and I figured it would help with the whole winter thing.” She was trying to brush off ‘the whole winter thing’ and trying to make it seem like nothing. Only her close friends like Skye knew how she really felt about it.

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#4
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3+


Her fingers tapped at her hip, pressing against the red-inked flesh in a way to comfort herself against the stranger. Crimson eyes bored a hole into the face of the horse, wondering who stood before her. Talitha had seen horses, as Cotl had Maschine, but strangers with the same pets brought about a sense of discomfort. But the younger woman seemed amiable enough, greeting her with a "hi" and a wave. "Are you from here, or are you visiting?"

The Inferni princess glanced around briefly before letting her gaze settle on the woman once more. "I'm from the north. There's no life here." Her voice was a murmur on the wind, ears twitching to listen to the words of the woman. She had been looking for clothes, to battle the winter winds. Talitha chuckled softly.

"Yes, there are clothes if you can find him, but I see nothing wrong with the Winter, myself," she said, pushing her curls away from her face. It was possible that others weren't so comfortable with it, but she couldn't help it if that was the case. They were certainly in the wrong place.

Her eyes scanned the outlying area silently, wondering what she could do with the new person. Should she introduce herself? She had never given her name to anyone at first glance, except members of Inferni who deserved to know their packmate. Finally, she settled on a title and a name and her voice rose as she spoke it: "I'm Faolin." That day, she masqueraded as her mother. An easy name, one she could hide behind for some time before anyone realized otherwise. Faolin was gone, after all, and Talitha was all that remained of the Massacre turned Mogotsi. She waited expectantly for the name of her newfound companion, pulling a bottle from her sling and twisting the cap off, allowing her access to drink from it.



table by silver; image by marilynjane@flickr


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#5
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Word Count: 439

The stranger seemed suspicious of the horse, though that came as no surprise. “Just so you know, he won’t hurt you except out of defense. Just keep your distance until he begins to see you aren’t a threat.” She was beginning to wonder exactly how many Luperci rode horses anyways. There was herself, Mars, Kansas, Skye…and that was about all she knew. Maybe her parents were right; maybe riding really was an unnatural occurrence that no one was meant to do. Not that that discouraged her from the sport at all. She just hated to think that her parents were right about anything.


“The north?” she echoed the red-furred female. “How far up north?” She hadn’t traveled much farther north than the most northern point of Souls, but she hadn’t stayed long enough there to see who lived there. At the moment, she couldn’t imagine anyone in their right mind who would want to live any more north than Crimson Dreams. She smirked lightly at the woman’s next words. “I’ve stayed for short times in places like this. Very short times, but living in abandoned human towns isn’t impossible.” They were haunting places, full of only shadows of the great buildings and machines that humans built, but if there was nowhere else to go, they made for relatively stable, let alone uncomfortable, homes.


In response to the coyote mix’s seemingly careless feelings about the cold season, Pixie merely issued a snort. However, she was glad to hear that clothing could be found in Halifax. She still wasn’t sure if Savina had gotten Denali’s coat from Halifax or one of the towns to the west of Crimson Dreams, but with the news that winter clothing could be found here, Pixie had no desire to go hunting farther for it. Even though it was already the middle of winter, late was better than never when it came to finding protection from the season’s cold sting.


She nodded as the stranger introduced herself. “I’m Pixie. Pixie Frost. I live south of here.” Then as Faolin revealed the bottle from inside her sling, the intoxicating smell filled Pixie’s nostrils again, even more so when the bottle was opened. “What’s that you got there?” she asked, unable to hide the hint of greed in her voice. She already had a pretty good idea of what the contents of the bottle were, but perhaps a curious question—a seemingly innocent one—could lead to her having a taste of it. Pixie wasn’t one to plan things ahead extensively, but while it didn’t quite come across as natural, she was trying her best to be sly.


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#6
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The Lykoi heard the questions as they came, but didn't give answers in the same order. Rather, she continued to watch the woman with caution and concern, unsure if she was willing to trust her just at that moment. Giving the name 'Faolin' proved enough lack of trust on the part of the coyote. The woman seemed undisturbed, giving her own name without abandon. Pixie Frost, who lived farther south, and who seemed curious about her pick of the day. "What's that you got there?" The coymutt tilted her head, lowering it past her shoulders ever so slightly.

"Far up north. I live far up north. In the Waste. I've never lived in a place like this, I just come around to find things." Answers to the previous questions, rather than answers to the question at hand, were one of Talitha's defining features. She controlled her situations, unwilling to hand over the reigns to others. It made her feelings of safety rise. "And it's whiskey." The bottle was brought to her maw again, and she swallowed another large gulp.

Her fingers tapped against the glass gently, her eyes turning away long enough to scan the area around them. "I don't suppose you'd like to share it with me."

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#7
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OOC here!

The coyote woman’s lack of specifics irritated the wolfess—she was interested in learning more about exactly where the stranger lived, so that she could perhaps travel there in the summer—but that was the least on her mind. She stared enviously as Faolin took a gulp of the whiskey, and she involuntarily tapped the claws on her hands together, a bad habit that showed whenever she was nervous, eager, anxious, or just in uncomfortable situations.


Pixie didn’t bother to express her surprise or act flattered at the offer, but contained herself enough to not snatch the bottle from the woman’s hands. “Thanks for the offer,” she said. “Don’t mind if I do…” Hesitantly reaching for the whiskey, she examined the bottle itself for a moment before taking a drink from it. Even though it was a small gulp, it packed a punch, and Pixie had to cover her mouth with her hand to keep herself from laughing out loud just from the sheer surprise of how strong it was. Once the shock wore off, though, a strange, pleasant sensation flowed through her bones, and she wanted more of it. She took another gulp, this time expecting the punch, and once again enjoying the feeling that washed through her.


Then, remembering that Faolin did say “share” and figuring that she should be kind to the person who gave her the whiskey in the first place, she slowly handed the bottle back to her, hoping that she would offer her another sip.

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#8
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Without being stingy, she allowed the young wolfess to take the bottle of amber liquor from her hands, watching with curious crimson eyes. She hadn't known what it was, so the hidden Lykoi could only assume she'd never touched a drink before in her life. Spindly russet fingers tapped against the bottom of her jaw. The younger female covered her mouth with a hand, and a smile broke over the coyote's features. Tainted youth had always been a rather entertaining topic to the seemingly epicine Lykoi, whose underweight body took away all forms of feminism.

For a brief moment, she wondered if the Pixie creature would finish the entire bottle, but she did hand it back to the owner after a couple of large sips. The willowy female grasped the bottle around the neck, downing a large gulp of the burning whiskey. "So. What pack houses you, little Pixie?" she asked, her ears swiveling forward while her gaze hardened against the peppered fur of the grey fae. Enemies lurked everywhere. It was a mindset instilled in her from birth, of course, brought about by her close ties to her family.


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#9
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Inactive Claire is inactive. Tongue

A burning pain remained at the back of her throat, and she wondered how Faolin seemed to ignore the sensation as she herself took a swig. Biting her lip was a temporary distraction, one that would have to be ended even quicker after the fire-furred female proposed a question. She hesitated in answering, but then remembered that she had just accepted an offer of alcohol from this wolf that she had only met minutes ago. There was no use pining over her stupidity—not now, anyways—but there was also no use in pretending to be more paranoid than she really was. In fact, the paranoia she had about the cold weather seemed to melt away as soon as her throat started to burn. It was an irritating sensation, but if it got rid of her fears, maybe it wasn’t so bad.


Smirking, she told the wolfess, “You, calling me ‘little?’ You’re the same height as me—most of the time, I’m towered over by other Luperci. Especially in the pack I’m in now. There’s one wolf who’s like a damn giant.” She didn’t raise her voice very much, but there was no masking of her irritation. The effect of the whiskey only seemed to heighten it. But she calmed a little, enough to say, “It’s called Crimson Dreams. We’re mostly wolves, but I’m sure Savina or Anu wouldn’t mind having a coyote or two in the pack.”

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#10
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The answer she received, passing the bottle back to the strange choice in drinking partner, was not one she expected. Crimson Dreams, made of wolves. Savina. Anu. All things she was unfamiliar with, having lived inside of Inferni for the entirety of her life. She knew Dahlia de Mai, and had recently learned of Anathema, but she had never wanted to venture so far as to learn about other groups within the area. So when Pixie mentioned that she believed this Crimson Dreams would not mind a coyote in its midst, Talitha laughed. "Why would a coyote go to wolves when Inferni is so close?" In truth, her own family was made from more wolf than coyote at that point in time, but she could feel pride over what coyote she did possess.

A grunt escaped her as she sat, heavily, on snow covered ground. "I'm tall in my home. We have very small family members. My father is quite large." She referenced Gabriel, who towered over her by several inches. Coyotes were not large, as could clearly be seen in Cotl van Ulrich and Kesho Maisha. Height separated the wolves from the rest of them. A bitter swell entered her chest as she took another sip from the bottle; her family was tainted by such a thing.


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#11
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OOC here!

Pixie chuckled lightly along with Faolin, but was cut off by a sudden hiccup. Shrugging it off, she asked, “Is Inferni just the pack where you coyotes go? Come to think about it, I haven’t seen a lot of your kind around Crimson Dreams.” Bangle, a coywolf, was the closest to a coyote she had met since arriving at ‘Souls, and he lived in Cercatori D’Arte. “You don’t look like a full coyote anyways. It looks to me like you have some dog blood in you.” She didn’t mean the statement as an insult, just an observation, but if she hadn’t just consumed a good portion of a bottle of whiskey she might have known a little better.


“Is your father a wolf? Or a dog? Or just a large coyote?” she asked, not thinking of how her question could offend someone. She felt the need to sit down as well—everything around her seemed a little out of proportion and she needed to regain her senses—but one look at the snowy ground stopped her. She could deal with standing up if it meant preventing her ass from getting cold. Even if she laid her cloak down like a blanket, it was too thin and worn out to protect her; she needed real clothing, or at least a real blanket.

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#12
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300+

Crimson eyes narrowed subtly as the wolf spoke. She hadn't heard of Inferni. A fluke, or something good? She wasn't able to determine, so she assumed it was the former. "Inferni is home. Most coyotes don't want to go elsewhere." Her voice was flat. She couldn't put emotion into something so silly and obvious. She didn't stop to think that it wasn't obvious to other packs. What the female said next hit a vicious nerve in the back of the coyote's skull. It looks to me like you have some dog blood in you. Her teeth glistened behind snarling lip. "I'm a coyote. Don't assume otherwise on things you have no knowledge of." In truth, Pixie was correct. Talitha was no more a true coyote than Ezekiel was a bird. Gabriel had spread wolf disease into the bodies of his twin children, his sunlight prince and lunar princess. She suffered his blood.

When he was mentioned, however, she found herself unable to admit her distaste for his legacy. Eyes softened ever so slightly. Gabriel. "My father is a coyote. He's more coyote than the pure ones." It sounded silly. How could Gabriel, something clearly tainted, be more coyote than those who bore no extra blood? It made sense to his daughter, even if it never would to outsiders. Gabriel was their leader. Gabriel loved Inferni, even if he couldn't love the people inside of it. Without Gabriel, she was sure Inferni would be lost.

As the wolf sat, the coyote realized she should join her. Elegantly, her body dropped to the cold ground, relieving her of a strange vertigo that had been plaguing her mind since the last few sips of liquor. Silence enveloped the fae creature for the briefest moment before she turned to her new companion. "And what of your father. You're a wolf; is he one of the vile monsters that many prove to be?"


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#13
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Faolin spoke as though the fact that Inferni was home to most coyotes was the most obvious thing in the world. Pixie vaguely recalled passing by the border of a pack territory lined with canine skulls; she had seen it when she first arrived at ‘Souls. But she had no idea that that pack was the one that this coyote mix was from. If she did, she would have felt much more threatened. “I guess that explains why I haven’t seen much of your kind,” she mused, “if Inferni is where they tend to roam around.” In a place that seemed largely dominated by wolves, she could see why the coyotes would want to group together. They were weaker animals, for the most part, though she was beginning to doubt that just from Faolin’s general demeanor. She seemed to seriously think her kind was the greatest of all canines, particularly those in her pack.


Pixie raised an eyebrow at the red furred female’s obvious irritation. Not only did she seem to think coyotes were some kind of superior animals, she also seemed to hate any other sort of wolf or dog. Really hate them, actually. The young wolfess had never encountered this sort of prejudice; she could understand rivalries between packs, and even between species, but the fact that Faolin took a serious offence to Pixie’s suggestion that she was part dog confused her. “I never said you were part dog,” she mumbled, her words slurring. “You just kinda look like it.” The coyote (or, at least, she said she was) confused Pixie even more with her next assurance that her father was also a coyote. “How could he be more coyote than the pure ones? That makes no sense. Is he one hundred and one percent coyote or something?” She was getting pretty drunk.


So drunk, in fact, that she did put aside her irritation for cold and plopped down on the ground covered in frost. She, too, was silent for a moment until Faolin asked about her own ancestry. “I’m all wolf, as far as I know. My mother was one, my father was one…I grew up with a bunch of siblings, and they were all wolves. But none of them were, uh, vile monsters, as you would put it. They were very traditional, if that’s what you mean. They often didn’t like to think that they were Luperci. I barely saw any of them in any form other than Lupus. My brother and I were the only ones that took to being on two legs often. It didn’t make the others so happy.” Melbourne especially had been comfortable in Optime form. Not even Pixie shifted into it as much as he did; her four-legged form was much more natural, and she was only in Optime form for practical purposes. It was difficult to ride a horse or play guitar with clumsy paws. But Melbourne had been different. Even when he wasn’t studying human literature or sketching the scenery around the pack’s home, he had strutted around on two legs as though he had done so his whole life.

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