Topic: Of Fur and Claws

Merahsha Belicandruse

Date: 2009-04-21 17:35 EST
The walls seemed to speak to her as she stood in the empty warehouse. So many memories of how the warehouse used to be her sanctuary. Her art gallery and her home where long hours had been spent dealing with the torments and tortures of her own past. How long had it been" Perhaps years since she had last stepped foot in New Orleans. She had come there originally following her senses to track Vladimir. The wolf she ever had seen as her Alpha, and she near had been his mate. That had all come shattering around her crashing down when he was all but been driven mad by his own anger. She questioned if maybe his mind had snapped or been broken by all that had surpassed.

So many wolves had died. It had been an all out war, a blood bath and massacre as the wolves and the vampires fought for dominance of territory in New Orleans. Mera could understand that perhaps this could break anyone but Vladimir as strong as his spirit was, his mind was so fragile. What else could be expected when your pack was destroyed, and his mate was killed by her own self destruction' Merahsha would know better then any the strife and torment that Vlad had suffered through. She after all had been a cherished friend of his mate even when his mate's mind had broken by her struggle between her multiple personalities.

A hand stretched out planting palm to kiss upon the wall as she bowed her head. All felt lost but she needed to say good bye for the last time. Closure was something she needed. Still behind those closed eyes there was the playback of all that she had been through, the torture as blood doll in London as a young wolf" far before she even had realized what she was" the betrayal of her own mate where she had served as lupa and ran as Alpha female at his side back when she was still in London. Then to arriving and meeting Vladimir, confronting him as the black wolf to protect a weaker wolf, without knowing she was challenging her own Alpha.

The forbidden love for the Alpha, the desire and affection she felt for Vlad even as he took on the name of Lincoln Priest but she still claimed him by his Russian name. Always would even as that fever of her draw to him burned her alive while they watched his mate burn on the funeral pyre. So much of a delicious torment she had undergone with the struggle of her affections for the Russian and now with the chance to be together" his own fury had turned him mad.

Fingers curled into fists as she shoved the last pieces of her memory in her duffel bag. The twin swords that she had wielded to fight at his side when she had felt that her own mind was breaking"

Briefly her thoughts drifted to her prior stop before New Orleans. The woods and the lake where the old tree once had grown before Tristan had chopped it down and uprooted it. She had to question her draw to those fierce wolves that could rule as Alphas. Tristan surely had been crazy or at least wild but that draw to him had been a draw that was never satiated.

Still there had been trust, she didn't believe he had her alone as mate, and her heart had been so torn with what she couldn't have. The paintings had been shipped. The old memories she couldn't give up but at least she had closure.

"Good bye, Vladimir, Tristan' "

It was no question they would be in her heart but she no longer could do this. No longer dance in madness. Her memories cracked at the edges with the memory of how Vladimir had nearly killed her when she revealed the paintings she had painted of him in his various stages of emotion. She still carried the marks of his hands, the promise of death by his own touch on her body. So well hidden those marks were. No better or worse then burned bruises of silver shackles, far more intimate then the self inflicted wounds.

The duffel bag was shouldered and she headed in direction that was true north. Another draw, another need, another desire" a pull that felt like it lacked the madness and torment she'd long since embraced and played lover to.

Rhy'din.

She didn't understand what appeal it had to her but as she walked out of the warehouse and closed the door to her past she couldn't help but wonder" just what would bring her back to Rhy'din. Why did she feel like coming back would heal her shattered soul" Only time would tell.

Still she couldn't shake the feeling it had to do with fur and claws, teeth and nails? and a solitaire moment of a challenge that left her heart, her body, her soul crying out for more

Merahsha Belicandruse

Date: 2009-04-21 18:01 EST
The Marketplace had been seduced by moonlight, kissed by rain when she made her return. A fleeting thought as she brushed the bare exposure of the nape of her neck. It was taking some getting used to. She figured the change was needed.

The long twisting darkness of unruly curls had been severed into an unruly chaos of curls that curled at jaw, leaving the nape of neck freshly exposed. There were other changes too, the dresses had been turned in for more casual attire with her ever artistic flair. Hoodies and tanktops, jeans and sneakers. The telltale chips of paint under the bed of her nails.

Flesh once smooth and fragile now held the subtle roll and movement of muscle with every step. No longer the weakling, her past had left her stronger. Adapting to be on her own. She had become used to being a lone wolf.

She had sat for what seemed like hours on that bench, watching the rain pour down after the vendors at the marketplace had closed down for the evening. Patient she was. But she didn't know what she was waiting for.

Sigh exhaled and yearning eyes, the alchemy kiss of silver and gold....moonlight and stars ever mated lingered on the world as it seemed to pass her by. A fleeting glance, a sensation of awareness, senses tingling with the nature of the familiar. The scent of him near choking. Masculine and wild.

Just like she remembered.

She stood and darted into the rain, leaving the duffel bag behind. Fingers pushing wet curls out of her eyes as she paused beneath the foggy glow of the street lamp.

A game it seemed.

Another challenge.

Hunter and the hunted. It was a refreshing welcome home.

Left to the wild, giving in to instinct she plunged into the slick wet of the downpouring rain. Only to run into him. So unexpected.

But it came so natural. The molded press of bodies in the rain. Smoldering kiss shared. Like the past come full circle.

Solitaire perhaps was not the way she was meant to run. Lone wolves they were once ....but it seemed the calling of the moon....that wild, aching burn....had other ideas.