"I just wanted you to know, that's all", Dianelopa said. She could see that he was hurting, that he was sad and probably confused. She pitied him. His words were not exactly reassuring, perhaps even a bit hurtful. She had never felt bothered by him. But she pitied herself too. Everything had gone wrong. Thad was gone, the security that she'd felt for a while in the care, at least she thought it was care, of Benjamin, Puck, even Anja, had disintegrated. She had nothing, except the pain in her ankle, which only was getting worse because she kept walking on it instead of letting it heal. "You may want to forget about me, but I surely won't forget you. How-ever I do have to go now. If I don't I think I might collapse from exhaustion and pain." She stopped talking but didn't leave.
She felt as if her lungs were caving in, that she needed air, she gaped, trying to draw more air in. "I can't," she said finally. "I can't make it home. Maybe, I'll just lay me down here on the bench for a while." She put her head down, stretched out her legs, and fell asleep. A strange kind of sleep full of swirling dreams, sometimes half conscious of the room, the bench and the pain that kept breaking through only to disappear again when she fell back into sleep. The dreams started taking specific forms. Thad slithering into the hideout. She felt as if she were there with him, and wanted to be with him, because no, she wasn't with him. Morry slithering into the hideout and sleeping beside Thad, and then slowly consuming the sleeping Thad who was suddenly herself. Morry, the wolf, not consuming her, but licking her. It did not feel bad, maybe even good. Pretty soon she was wet all over. And then Thad was there, asking why she was so wet. It's not raining he said. She said, it was Morry. Thad seemed angry about that. I will dry you he said. And then she woke and groaned.
Every Wolf Has its Day
Re: Every Wolf Has its Day
Pity. He could see it in her eyes. Though pity was something he seemed to hunger for, he appeared to dislike it. He was constantly fishing for it, yet he never seemed to enjoy basking in its sad little light. He listened to her, and wanted to hate her voice. He wished that she could sound like an old hag instead of the young woman she was. He wished he had never met her.
Lopa said she needed to leave, but stood there. Morry looked at her, his eyes grazing delicately over her thin body. She was not well-curved. Instead, her body illustrated the youth of a woman who had never bore children or even heavy responsibility. He liked that. She was not like him. He was a nasty creature. He did not deserve her kindness.
She lay down on a bench near to the door. The whispering and mumbling from the tavern was occasionally punctuated by a man shouting. Morry could have stood there in the entryway staring at Lopa all night had his mind not been completely shot. He realized such an act would have been strange, but that had never stopped him in the past.
"Go get some rest," said Zou's voice in his head.
Morry turned away from her, wandered upstairs to his room, locked the door behind him, and collapsed on the floor where he had left his pile of blankets.
_________________
Night.
A day had passed. Morry had slept through most of it, tossing and turning with nightmares in his bed, musical instruments swarming his mind and piercing his dreams. He bathed for the first time in weeks. He used a knife to trim his hair and part of his beard, but he looked as scraggly as ever due to its uneven nature. When he finally wandered downstairs, Lopa was long gone. The bench was empty. The night was young; the moon was strong through the dusty windows of the inn, plaguing its fires with blue light.
The burning on his skin and stinging in his nose were the first signs. He had almost forgotten. The wolf would take him tonight, and he needed to leave before that happened.
His muscles began to ache, and his skin crawled on top, like there were insects underneath of it, wandering through his blood. It was a familiar sensation, but that did not make it any less unpleasant. Morry left through the front door of the inn, staggering outside with his pack slung over his shoulder. He moved as quickly as he could toward the Virdara Woods, all while Zou whispered, "Hurry. Hurry," in his head.
He felt nothing. The night felt like it would be normal, and no incidents would occur. The wolf struck him down over an hour after he had left the inn, and he began the regular convulsing of his transformation. His bones cracked and stretched. He moaned and screamed in pain. His mind began to lose lucidity as the world around him bent and morphed, adjusting to his enhanced senses and poor judgement centers. He prowled the forests. He wandered far, roaming as a predator does, scenting his prey.
Thad was on his way back home. Morry could smell him. He did not recognize it as Thad's smell.
Target found.
Lopa said she needed to leave, but stood there. Morry looked at her, his eyes grazing delicately over her thin body. She was not well-curved. Instead, her body illustrated the youth of a woman who had never bore children or even heavy responsibility. He liked that. She was not like him. He was a nasty creature. He did not deserve her kindness.
She lay down on a bench near to the door. The whispering and mumbling from the tavern was occasionally punctuated by a man shouting. Morry could have stood there in the entryway staring at Lopa all night had his mind not been completely shot. He realized such an act would have been strange, but that had never stopped him in the past.
"Go get some rest," said Zou's voice in his head.
Morry turned away from her, wandered upstairs to his room, locked the door behind him, and collapsed on the floor where he had left his pile of blankets.
_________________
Night.
A day had passed. Morry had slept through most of it, tossing and turning with nightmares in his bed, musical instruments swarming his mind and piercing his dreams. He bathed for the first time in weeks. He used a knife to trim his hair and part of his beard, but he looked as scraggly as ever due to its uneven nature. When he finally wandered downstairs, Lopa was long gone. The bench was empty. The night was young; the moon was strong through the dusty windows of the inn, plaguing its fires with blue light.
The burning on his skin and stinging in his nose were the first signs. He had almost forgotten. The wolf would take him tonight, and he needed to leave before that happened.
His muscles began to ache, and his skin crawled on top, like there were insects underneath of it, wandering through his blood. It was a familiar sensation, but that did not make it any less unpleasant. Morry left through the front door of the inn, staggering outside with his pack slung over his shoulder. He moved as quickly as he could toward the Virdara Woods, all while Zou whispered, "Hurry. Hurry," in his head.
He felt nothing. The night felt like it would be normal, and no incidents would occur. The wolf struck him down over an hour after he had left the inn, and he began the regular convulsing of his transformation. His bones cracked and stretched. He moaned and screamed in pain. His mind began to lose lucidity as the world around him bent and morphed, adjusting to his enhanced senses and poor judgement centers. He prowled the forests. He wandered far, roaming as a predator does, scenting his prey.
Thad was on his way back home. Morry could smell him. He did not recognize it as Thad's smell.
Target found.