Topic: In the Wolf's Den

HarperMelle

Date: 2016-09-11 15:04 EST
((A place for unconnected snippets from the lives of The Howlers since their arrival in Rhy'Din. The posts to follow are vaguely chronological but not meant to be taken as a complete story. To follow their backstory before coming to Rhy'Din, check out The Howlers. ))

Quinn Bishop Scultpor, Daydreamer, and Social Glue of a Disfunctional Pack Quinn is bright and sunshiney. She's easy-going and rather passive, hating conflict and passing out at the sight of blood. Sometimes it seems she's the only thing keeping the pack together, as she is the mediator between all the loud personalities. She spends her time painting every clear surface in the house, building strange wire sculptures in the backyard, patching up Yuna, and trying to keep Percy and Avery from killing each other. She and Harper try to be the voice of reason amidst the chaos, but of course nobody listens to the youngest wolves. As a brown wolf, she has a practically puppyish personality. She's all wagging tail and stick chasing. She wouldn't harm a fly. http://66.media.tumblr.com/8e93ce12656f7cb30f4adc06d9526d86/tumblr_o3bpfkiyp11tq2vn1o2_500.jpg

Percy Faolan Vet Student, Trouble-Maker, and Full-time Babysitter of Harper Melle Persephone Faolan tries to stick to the shadows. Long dark curls hide her face, though she glances from behind them with piercing amber eyes. She arms herself with a frown, furrowed brows, and a bristling demeanor. Though she comes off as cold and rough, she is fiercely protective of her pack. She sticks to dark and simple clothing, something you won't have to fight with too much if the urge to change grows too strong. She is more used to her wolf form than her human one, and is very uncomfortable around people. She is a werewolf born and bred, not changed like the rest of her pack. She comes from a very prestigious line of wolves, and leadership runs in her blood. This is an urge she vehemently denies, and tries to hide it behind a blase demeanor. In her wolf form, she is a huge, sleek black creature with burning golden eyes. She is unscarred, unlike the other wolves who were turned. She is inherently dominant, and the others subconsciously find themselves following her wishes. She is so dominant other wild creatures tend to submit to her without conscious effort. She finds this power rather disturbing and tries to hide it. She is also fiercely strong, stubborn, and wily from years in the wild. http://67.media.tumblr.com/9be0f453d05b1667de67543a2dfed514/tumblr_inline_o9jf9mMpeT1ruws1c_500.png

Serina Fay UFO Chaser, Lit Major, Baker, and Cryptid Hunter Serina is a romantic through and through. When she isn't reading and translating French lais for her coursework, she's off in the woods or tresspassing through people's fields looking for proof of aliens with her trusty camera. As she says: if there are werewolves, what?s to say there aren't interplanetary visitors, or cryptids for that matter" That normally gets a snarky laugh and something chucked at her head, but Avery usually tags along on her wild goose chases. She says it's to gather plants for the garden, but really she just likes to listen to Serina ramble and get away from the tension of the house for a bit. She's a bit spacey, a bit naive, a bit passive, but always there to cheer the others up. In her wolf form, she's the tallest, grey with light eyes. Se's very passive, and would never fight unless she felt threatened. http://65.media.tumblr.com/461da0b76e0076ee1a98c351706a305e/tumblr_inline_oad1ceqI081ruws1c_500.jpg

Harper Melle Dancer with the Sanachie Theatre Harper would properly be described as mousy: pale brown hair more often than not thrown up in a messy bun, a plain and open face, a lopsided grin, and constellations of freckles across her cheeks and shoulders. She is a slight thing, thin and short at 5'0", but with legs too long for her small frame. She'd seem more a knock-kneed fawn than the daunting white wolf she bears within. http://67.media.tumblr.com/b09c9f04050d29c24bfd59c86074800e/tumblr_inline_o9jf4dMHIX1ruws1c_500.jpg

Avery Nilsson Botanist, Socialite, Pack Leader, and Local Busybody Avery is your average charming young woman, with a vocabulary that would shame a sailor and a love of growing poisonous plants. Her looks get her most of what she wants, and her honey sweet voice backed by the sharp point of a switchblade help get everything else. She is the leader of their ragtag pack, though she is rather insecure with her position. The stress of wrangling five unruly werewolves causes her to be rather sharp and aggressive most of the time. She only really relaxes when she's gardening. She takes the form of a slender grey wolf who, much like her human form, can be rather aggressive in order to keep her pack in line. http://66.media.tumblr.com/2c4d3330f4926472c568c44d0b69e6d7/tumblr_inline_o9lauyFSLV1ruws1c_500.jpg

Yuna Park Student, Engineer, Brawler, and Professional Restless Soul Yuna lives a travel-size shampoo kind of life, taking with her only necessities in easily disposable packages. She's inconstant, changing the color of her hair every week and the color of her nails every day. She's volatile, full of laughter one moment and smashing bottles over heads the next. She lives for the open road and eating miles of pavement under her wheels, so being tied down to one ramshackle old Victorian house is stifling for her. She seeks out excitement any way she can, which normally means getting blind drunk, hustling pool, throwing darts, drag racing and starting fights. More often than not, the gang is left to hunt her down, disentangle her from whatever mess she's caused, and patch her up. She and Percy are partners in crime, egging each other on and always backing each other in a fight. She takes the form of a smaller than average tawny wolf who, counter to her human form, is rather docile until her pack is threatened. http://66.media.tumblr.com/f249acaf91657db677de2acade4be794/tumblr_o7k0e9xmi81si6iz0o3_1280.jpg

HarperMelle

Date: 2016-09-11 15:10 EST
They were silent as the oily light of street lamps flashed past them. Harper wrapped her hands round Percy's waist despite the sting from her split knuckles. Her busted lip was getting stiff as it scabbed over, already in the process of healing from the night's fight. She picked at it with her teeth, trying not to think of what she'd done earlier that evening.

She had thrown a man twice her size over a bar without even thinking. She had smiled through a mouthful of blood and clawed a man into silence with a ferocity and delight she hadn't known she possessed. And after it was quiet, she had picked shards of glass from her hands and dropped them one by one into an empty beer glass like it was a minor inconvenience. The polite, easy-going, delicate thing she'd been would have run in fear to see her now.

But despite the ugly blue bruises rising on pale skin and the blood staining her tattered sweater, she wasn't afraid. She was angry, and perhaps that was more frightening than the blood. She fumed because they had run. It had taken Percy and Yuna to drag her, kicking and growling, from the bar. Some of the gashes across Percy's arms had been from Harper's claws, and perhaps that was the most frightening part of all. It hadn't mattered who stood in front of her. All she had seen was red.

"Why does it have to be like this, Percy' Why do we have to run and hide and skulk in the dark like animals?" Harper mumbled into the back of Percy's leather jacket. She could feel Percy's chest expand and collapse as she sighed.

"Maybe because that's what we are, Harpy. We don't belong there, so when we draw attention, the pack moves on. All a pack needs is each other. What do they care of men in their cities" We have the woods, the moon, the wind, the whole world. What could men ever know of that, huh' So when the hunter gets too close, we just pick up and leave." Maybe that didn't bother Percy. Of course, she knew nothing else. Born and bred a wolf, she looked on the oblivious world of men with pity and disdain.

But that had been Harper's world once, and she longed for the comfort of ignorance. But there was no going back now. That was the horrible thing about knowledge; it grabbed you by the throat and dragged you down. The only way to escape was to dive deeper. She had to leave the past behind. It didn't belong to her anymore.

"Where are we heading?" Percy called over her shoulder, half-screaming above the roar of the motorcycle's engine. Harper pressed her forehead to Percy's back, drowning out the dizzying lights that chased them through the night. That was too much of a question. Despite fangs and claws and a mouthful of blood, the night still seemed a menace. There was no going back, and the way ahead seemed choked with shadow.

"Just drive." And they did. They drove till dawn turned to day, and winding woods turned to a city, and Earth turned to Rhy"Din. Perhaps that was the only way they could have gotten there: broken, aimless, half animal and all monster, trailing broken strands of hope behind them that maybe, one day they wouldn't have to hide in the dark.

HarperMelle

Date: 2016-09-24 17:20 EST
The city was drowned in a fearful buzz as Harper walked back from rehearsals. Though she couldn't point to the reason, she felt it like an impending wave, a held breath, the first crack of lightning against the dark horizon. Even the air felt tense, like the city itself was perched between fight and flight. Harper glanced around her, trying to find the source of the nagging fear. People bustled by like normal, but there was something different. There were furtive glances, fewer waves and friendly nods. It was like the city was watching her, sizing her up and marking her down. But as what, she didn't know.

And then she saw the footage blaring across the screens of shop windows. "Stand strong," the tv crackled as the carnage flickered past. "Stand with humanity." Harper swallowed, clutching to her dance bag like a life line. Then she understood. Just like where she'd left, there was an "us" and a "them." How could she have been so na've to think she could fit in here" There was always an "us" and always a "them' and she'd always be stuck in between. No matter how far she ran, she could never leave that behind.

It seemed to her that everyone she passed appraised her, checking ear length and eye color and who knows what else, and marking off on some internal check-list. Are you human' Are you fae" Are you a danger" Are you something else? She pulled the collar of her coat tighter about her face like blinders, trying to blot out the staring eyes as she passed.

"I don't know," she wanted to scream at them. "I'm not human. I'm not fae. I'm not anything." But she just stared silently at her feet below her and tried to hurry through the streets.

Part of her just wanted to pass as human, to cover the long white scars and pretend nothing lurked below the image of a small, delicate girl. She wanted nothing more than to be overlooked. But another part of her raged. She wanted to prowl the streets, claws bared, fangs flashing. How dare they speak of supremacy, spitting fear and hatred" She could show them fear. She could show them just how monstrous people could be. Fae or human, wolf or man; they were all as equal in barbarity as in kindness.

But she knew, no matter how many people came together preaching unity and peace, there would always be an "us" and a "them." And there she would be, stuck in between them as a solitary, unprotected "I." Too human for fae, and too wild for humans. The city was on the verge. Of what, she couldn't quite tell. But no matter what, it would be trouble. She hunkered lower in her coat, stared at the ground in front of her, and hurried home.

HarperMelle

Date: 2016-10-24 22:46 EST
It didn't matter that nobody came to trick-or-treat at the last house on a desolate street that skirted the edge of the forest. 311 Monkshood Drive would not let the season pass them by. About ten pounds of cotton webbing had been stretched over all too real spider webs nobody had bothered to sweep away, either due to laziness or Serina's pleas that 'spiders had the same right to live in the house as they did." Quinn had spent the better part of a week carving tombstones from Styrofoam and artfully arranging plastic skeletons throughout the leaf-littered yard. Add a few strings of orange lights, some fake bats, a fog machine, six carved pumpkins, and three pounds of candy that had mysteriously dwindled to two, and they were all set for the non-existent trick-or-treaters. All except for the most important piece of the holiday, the costumes. So there Harper found herself, standing in the middle of her room with every article of clothing she owned arrayed around her like a mine field. She stood stock still in the center of the chaos while Serina and Quinn hunted through it. She tried to keep the scowl from her face, but despite her best efforts it kept creeping back into view.

Serina popped up from behind the bed with a victorious cry. Somehow in the short time she'd been digging she'd managed to cover half her face in glitter. Whether it was a result of the costumes she'd been rummaging through or another experimental look of hers was a mystery to Harper. But Serina seemed oblivious to her sparkly face as she waved a pair of gossamer harem pants and a shimmering bralette like a flag.

"I don't know what you mean about not having anything, Harper. Your room's a costume goldmine. How about this I Dream of Jeannie getup?" Harper snatched the costume from her hands and clipped it back to a hanger as pointedly as she could muster.

"That's from the coffee dance of The Nutcracker. It's not a genie. And careful with those." From a small island of accessories by the dresser, Quinn held up a pair of wings.

"Well, what about a fairy princess?" She was cut off as Harper ripped the wings from her hands too and threw them onto the bed.

"Those are willi wings, not a fairy princess."

"Willi what?"

"You know, from Giselle. Just"just leave that won't you; it's delicate." Quinn sighed and frowned up at Harper from her spot on the floor.

"Well what are you gonna be then, a W word?"

"A werewolf" That seems a little too on point, don't you think?"

"No, I meant a wet blanket," Quinn mumbled under her breath before dropping a tiara back into the pile at her feet. She was saved from a scathing reply by Serina bounding to her feet with a white tutu pressed to her face.

"What about a paper plate?" She wriggled the tutu around her hips. "Or a UFO?" That was the last straw.

"That's a pancake tutu, not a ****ing paper plate."

"Well it doesn't look like a pancake." Serina spun around, trying to imagine a white tulle pancake. But Harper wasn't in the mood to humor her imaginings. There was something unsettling about seeing years of costumes laid out on the floor in front of her, like she was face to face with her past self and watching someone dissect her with a chainsaw. The other two just dug through as if they were nothing more than clothes, as if it didn't represent years of work and dedication. Harper was caught between crying and screaming as she tried to wrench the tutu away from Serina.

"That's not some silly costume for you all to play dress up. It's my life Serina. It's my work."

"It's just a bit of fun, you don't have to be so?" The sickening rip of fabric caught them both off guard and they went toppling in opposite directions, each clutching a scrap of tulle. Harper scrambled to her feet first, grasping to the piece of tutu with a clenched fist.

"Fine, you know what, just take what you want. Here," she dug her Swiss army knife from her back pocket and chucked it at Serina, who was too frozen to even flinch as it bounced off her forehead and landed in her lap. "Why don't you just cut up my bedsheets while you're at it' Feel free to take the curtains too. Obviously your stupid holiday is more important." She turned on her heel and stormed from the house, slamming the porch door behind her loudly enough to rattle it in its hinges. She hardly noticed the claws growing from her nails, or the long gouges she had left in the wood of the door.

In fact, she hardly noticed anything as she prowled through the trees, knocking aside branches with misplaced anger. By the time she slumped against a tree trunk and slid to the mossy forest floor, she was lost completely. It was only then, as the still and quiet of the forest began to calm her, that she realized she still clutched the piece of tulle in a fist. It looked so small and insignificant there, and she was hit with a wave of guilt. Here she was throwing a temper tantrum like a petulant child, all over some dumb costume she hadn't worn in years.

That's all it was, wasn't it' Just an itchy, ill-fitting old piece of tulle that still bore a stubborn lipstick stain she could never get out. She smoothed it out on her knee, and a few pieces of cut paper fluttered to the ground. It appeared even years later she was still haunted by the plague of fake snow from that one year as a snowflake. The thought of it brought tears to her eyes but she fought them down. It was nothing but a stupid costume, after all.

Something warm and furry pressed up against her side and Harper leaned into it instinctively. She didn't even need to look to recognize Percy as she settled around Harper, enveloping her with a bushy black tail. Percy gave her an encouraging lick and pressed her snout to Harper's neck.

"That's unfair Percy," she sniffled, one hand rubbing absentmindedly at one of the wolf's ears. "You know I can't be mad at you like that." There was a loud series of popping and crunching, like someone had cracked every joint in their body simultaneously, and the wolf shifted back into her human form. She shivered and stretched before pressing her bare chest against Harper's back for warmth in the autumn chill.

"This any better?" She whispered into Harper's ear. Harper felt a blush spread to her cheeks.

"No, now I definitely can't stay mad at you." Percy sighed and wrapped her arms around Harper's shoulders, pressing her chin into the crook of Harper's neck.

"Well if it's any consolation, Serina's so upset she's sitting in the corner whining inconsolably and chewing on the end of her tail." Another wave of guilt crashed into her but she fought it down. Anger was easier.

"What, so she sent you to apologize because she figured you have diplomatic immunity?" Percy laughed and leaned closer so Harper could see her. Though she tried to keep a straight face, a wicked little smile played at the corners of her mouth.

"Diplomatic immunity' If you ever treat me like that you need to dump my sorry ass. What do I keep trying to tell you? Wolves don't take shit from anyone, not even their pack. No"I just figured if you were going to blow up at anyone, it'd better be me." Harper glared down at the torn piece of fabric before balling it up. They sat in silence for a moment as Harper fiddled with the scrap in her hands.

"I didn't mean to blow up at her," she mumbled. "It's just, I used to love Halloween. But now I don't see the fun in pretending to be something you're not. I do that every day. And more than that, I don't want to turn something I was into a costume. All those old tutus, that's my whole life laid out there in garish tulle. We had to hand sew each sequin at my first studio. It was a rite of passage. You got your plain tutu, and you'd all haul off in some mom's mini-van to pick out rhinestones and glitter before sitting down in the middle of an empty studio to tack your own tutus and sew on your own decorations. I built that version of myself, one sequin at a time. And then it was all ripped away. I mean I found my way back to it but I'll never be what I was, oblivious and innocent and overeager." Percy tried to suppress a snort and Harper shot her a glare over her shoulder.

"Okay, maybe I'm still a little overeager. But that was back when all I had to worry about was pulling off that last fouett' and making sure the ribbons stayed tucked in on my pointe shoes. Now the world just seems so much bigger, and I feel so much smaller. At the end of the day, I get so tired of playing dress up, especially after this whole humanity first business." Percy traced patterns across the back of Harper's hand as she thought. Harper let the scrap of fabric drift to the ground. It was only a costume after all. They laced their fingers together before Percy pressed a kiss to the back of Harper's neck.

"I could always kill them for you. All you'd have to do is ask." Harper fought not to smile.

"That is both sweet and terrifying, but I think we can leave first degree murder for another day."

"Okay, fine. Then no costumes. No pressure. That's what home's about, not having to pretend. But it's a shame though." She trailed off wistfully with a dramatic sigh. "You don't know what I would give to see you in that little genie outfit.?