WARNING This thread contains: strong language, drug usage, strong violence, or strong sexual content starting with the 1st post. Reader discretion is advised.

The bold italics are going to be her talking in Spanish; I'm too lazy to search for properish translation right now.

She was livid, furious, outraged. The Latin female had left everything behind for the Russo, and his affections twisted to someone else. She sacrificed her own comfort for his, and in the end, she had been tossed away like used furniture. Replaced, with some white-and-pink bitch from the backwoods. Though the rest of the pack was fretting over the loss of a member, Krystalle felt very little; it wasn't Orin's fault, of course. She'd have felt the same for any member who turned up gone. The Horzana woman was incapable of sympathy for others. Except for Mars.

As she stormed away from what had started as a pack meeting, she couldn't gather her thoughts. Everything was wrong. Mars wasn't supposed to leave her, back in California, but he did. And then when she followed, Mars was supposed to be glad to see her again. He hadn't been. Bartholomew had been, but it was different to gain the joy of Bartholomew than it was Mars. His outburst at the meeting, following their awkward discussion in the home, was the end of it. She couldn't do it.

Her feet carried her quickly from the town and into the forest, away from Mars and the chaos created. She expected he'd follow, and she had been right. It only took a few momens before she heard the accompanying steps of a large creature. Anger fueling her actions, she twisted on her toes, a hardened pink glare focused fully on the tri-colored male. "What's so special about her, huh?! What...does she do that I don'?! I take care of you! She...she's some stupid whore who can' keep her legs closed for the leader! Is that what I have to do, Mars, sleep with Shawchert?!" Her eruption was loud, shrill, and full of venom for both the male and missing woman.

She turned her back on him, covering her face with white-tipped hands; motion continued, away from the male. She didn't want to look at him. She didn't want to talk to him. She wasn't sure where she was going, but it was going to be away from him while he retained his dominant personality. Her toes slammed into the trunk of a fallen tree as she passed, and a string of curses escaped her mouth, lost in the mix of English and Spanish. They faded slowly, turning into awkward sobs as she came to a halt. "Dammit, Mars! Why...are you doing this to me...?" It was rhetorical, but it slipped out as a question regardless.

And still he defended her. Behind the undesired tears, the hybrid woman seethed more. All he did was defend her; he didn't try to console his friend, but was more concerned that Orin's name not be tarnished by some derogatory term. White fingers rubbed at her eyes vigorously, unwilling to let him see her distress. It wasn't until the familiar twang of Bartholomew's accent reached her ears that she looked back to the male she lived with. He'd moved closer, to her side, as if Bartholomew was eager to comfort the woman. Strange as it was to witness both halves of the one body interact, she could only stare in curiosity.

Mars' apology turned the curiosity back into rage.

One seemingly dainty hand rose and, with force enough to bruise bare flesh, came into contact with the black half of Mars' face. It stung her palm, but she brushed it off. He deserved it, the bastard. "No. No, no, no, no, no, no. I can' do this no more, Mars, I really can'. 'm gettin' too old to deal with all this immature bullshit. Y'know, chicas my age, they got families by now! And what'm'ai left with? You, and your stupid, annoying indecisive BULLSHIT!" Fueled by rage, her voice lost the American edge to it, instead twisting into improper grammar and heavy Spanish coating. Each word was spat out, as if meant to cut the man. Most of it meant little; she knew having a family was not in her future, but it was just another reason to be angry.

Again she turned away, ready to storm off into the darkness. Talking was not on the agenda. The man would have to force her to stay if he really wanted to interact; it wouldn't be too difficult, of course, as he was larger and quite possibly stronger. She simply wanted to get away. From him, from the pack. From everything.

Sho-ort. ;~; I'm sorry.

Bartholomew always tried to make things better, and when his arms found themselves around the torso of his Latin friend, she couldn't help but pause her steps. He brought her closer. He was trying. She didn't look at him, instead diverting pink eyes to the ground; her body remained stiff. With all his comforting words, she didn't feel better. Barty wouldn't understand. Barty wasn't Mars, though it was a fine line between the two. As his fingers patted her limp hair, twirling bits of tan-and-platinum locks, he made a rather crucial mistake. He spoke about Orin. Though his words weren't defending the woman directly, he was defending Mars' actions, and her eyes narrowed. One hand swatted him away as he asked, oh so politely, for her to stay.

"No. Not right now, Barty, I don' wanna deal with y'all at all." She shook her head, pulling from his embrace with all the cold body language of some scorned lover. It wasn't fair, to her at least, that they were capable of the stress-inducing actions they caused without being at fault. She had read about their condition, and she understood, but at that moment, she didn't care. "Can' do it right now, Bart. Mars don'...he...it ain' gonna change. I love an imaginary person who prolly ain' even gonna exist some day, so why 'm I botherin'?" Her shoulders shrugged up against her neck. Distance was her safety net, and distance is what she wanted. She knew she couldn't leave forever, but she couldn't go home with him that night.

She went poof and whatnot; if Mars is at home in the morning, you can pretend like she did sleep in the bed with him, but stopped during following days. We can close it.

Don't give up, he said. Mars will change someday. They wanted to protect her. So many pretty things clouded the mind of the Horzana. Bartholomew knew just what to say in order to calm the heart of his Californian lover. Though she felt the tug to simply give in, she turned her face away. In that moment, it was best. If she didn't leave, at least for the night, she would never regain the control of her life that she so desperately needed. "Jus' can' be here right now, Mars. Go home, go sleep. 'll be there when the sun comes up." She would sleep elsewhere, gather her thoughts and calm herself down. She had to.

Without turning back, she pushed forward into the land of Cercatori d'Arte, hiding her distress from the multi-colored man she claimed to love. Before allowing herself to disappear, she halted; for a moment, she considered staying, but instead she turned to face him. "Promise 'll be there. I wouldn' leave you, Barty. I remember how much it hurts." Perhaps the words meant nothing to Bartholomew, but they were for Mars anyways. Stinging, bitter words. He'd left her behind without second thought. Even if it had been forgiven, it still dug into her heart.

A shake of her head turned her back to him once more, and she moved onward. Danger was perhaps welcome; an excuse to make him worry would give her some feeling of justice. As it was, she knew she'd be there when the sun returned to the sky, even if she slept in the main room instead of in his arms. She wouldn't abandon him.