Topic: The Power in Dominance, the Etiquette in Submission (18+)

Briar Wilthorne · Date: 2009-09-22 18:07 EST

(OOC-The Small Print: No this is not your bondage queen fantasy or torture fest indulgence. Mature events may occur... they are all predominantly animal after all.This is an Open thread for those involved with the 'pack' storyline. If you're interested in joining the pack shoot me an IM or PM. Danke. )

Pack. The term seemed elusive to the Coyote. Coyotes were known to be scavengers. Solitaire loping creatures of the desert. Yet Brilyah knew that there was power in numbers, power in the fact of having just another body to watch your back... or really just another body to throw to the fire when it came down to it.

To fall for the sins. Was that not a Beta's place in the pack, to take the fall and offer the sacrifice of body and spirit to the pack principle?

Brilyah relied on instinct. Confided in dominance as the Alpha. Taking the lead and the position of power like a desert queen would take a throne of thorns and heat. There were mates now. Another bit of the path that had altered in the nature of the Coyote. Taking on mates, taking on Pack.

Dillon. Godric. Go.

Dillon the one that she would acknowledge equal to her and on some rare nights as above her in dominance as Alpha. No feral bloodline in his veins but his blood ran wild as if he had born as beast.

Go ever the one to not possess a nature of a dominant or Alpha but his spirit spoke volumes of a past Brilyah had all but forgotten. Mountains in his eyes that spoke of memories like a Valkyrie would be drawn to duties in Valhalla.

Godric the newest mate. Alpha to her own. The mate that would speak to that feral side. That brutal primal side. So rare had it been that the Coyote had one that would understand the wild nature she possessed.

That in the end life to the Coyote was only about the things that a predator focused on. Sex. Violence. Food. Survival.

Nothing more. Nothing less. There was a power in dominance, and gradually Brilyah was beginning to learn as she took on pack members that offered their throats... an etiquette in submission.

They all would learn with time.

Briar Wilthorne · Date: 2009-09-22 18:18 EST

Submission. The pack was growing. Expanding. Go's intrigue and adoration for new spirits amongst his companionship seemed to have drifted into the Coyote's wild nature.

Had the Coyote settling in, drawing in pack members as if she was meant for the pack nature in spirit. Moon Runner had offered her throat and the Coyote without thought had taken it. Marked the Moon Runner as her own, as submissive pack member.

The Coyote had viewed the Pretty Kitty as pack, even the Little Vixen in the sidelines could be viewed as pack to her.

It was a long hour, dark in the evening that she would hunt. Not as beast but as woman. The hunt left her thoughts trespassing to Godric and his offering of the deer pelt as gift after he had been marked by her. The stag she had taken down was gutted, cleaned with the sharp skill and finesse of one used to such practiced rituals.

Pack.

Chartreuse flicked to the moon, roamed the sky. Pack rituals and rites. Pack rules. Pack bond. She even had permitted Godric and the Black Cat to have their night of lust. More in understanding that Red wanted to take the Kitten.

Moments passing pleasure. Want. Need.

Who was she to deny it. Or deny them. Godric would remain hers. There was no question of that even when Mihaela descended stairs wearing the scent of Godric on her like paint, head raised proud.

There was an etiquette. A thin line walked in the hours.

Dark hours. Blue hours.

Her eyes slitted, canine tilt of head as she listened to the forest whisper around her.

It would tell no secrets of the Coyote. Blade licked clean of blood with a tongue meant for embers and heat. Desert coated brutality.

Take what you would of the pack... claim it as your own... to belong.

They all needed a place.

Mihaela · Date: 2009-09-22 18:39 EST

Pack... Pard... Her cat understood pard more than pack. Two terms...

Same meaning...

The last time she belonged to anything was the police force. The Brash young vice cop trying to prove her worth to her peers and her family. Four generations of First responders, Firefighters, cops - They expected she become the cop's wife. She disappointed them by becoming the cop.

She was never one to submit. Never one to give up. They were one in the same in her book for the longest time. Always striving to be strong, to be the best. The cat was part of her soul even then, though sleeping.

Never good enough in their eyes...

She had a partner on the force. Probably the only one that understood her. Her best friend and confidant, yet never anything more.

Partners...

She should have died that night. The bust should have went by the book, except they didn't know what they had on their hands. The target torn through their guys like they were nothing to him. So many good men died that day.

Then it was her turn...

Her partner didn't even have enough time to warn her, to call out... She felt the hot claws in her flesh and the sticky heat of her own blood...

Coldness and death...

By all rights she should be dead. But those claws awakened her cat. She had been changed and did not realize it until the night of the full moon when the cat made it's presence known.

Violently...

All her work, her dreams... Torn away by a sadist's claws. She lost everything that night - her job, her friends, her family. All shunned her and drove her away as a freak.

A Monster...

Then he came back. Again with his claws trying to claim what he thought was his. He wanted her broken ... Submissive. She fought him and she won.

Submission...

She never understood it could mean more until she offered her throat to the Coyote. Something inside her craved this. Even more than the carnal pleasures of a couple of hours prior. Red was hot, but she couldn't be his as he wished. She belonged to the Coyote just as he did.

And she had come home.

Briar Wilthorne · Date: 2009-09-22 19:33 EST

Home. Bonding. She was well aware of Godric's desire to claim the Cat. It was not something that the Coyote saw so much as a desire to claim for a heart's want but more so how a child would wish to possess a toy.

Possession. It was such a wicked trait of the wild.

The stag had been gutted and cleaned. Meat hung up on the tree, the pelt left to dry. It all done she found herself stretching languidly out in the grass, staring at the stars before her fingertips rubbed at her brow.

Claim. It came in the form of blood and violence. Always. Control.

She had denied any thought of giving herself into possession. Marking was a different thing. Marked as a mate was a different story all together for the Coyote.

Submissive pack members. It took some getting used to. Adjustments. The Moon Runner and the Kitten were hers now and part of her spirit felt uneasy about it. Wary of what a solitaire scavenger would do with the promise of pack members below her.

This was not a will of thorns, not a will of her way... but a will of the wild. She had no control of it.

Like the Coyote the Pack was becoming what it was meant to be. A growing wild, untamed beast.

Godric · Date: 2009-09-23 00:24 EST

Marked. It had been too long since he had marked anything as his, and centuries longer since that which he marked mattered to him. The night of feral and passion had been a stammering shock to the lycanthrope, not because of the fact that he tangled sheets and curled toes with the coyote. But instead that she had allowed him to mark her as mate.

The marks were primitive. They belonged to him. But had been left on her. A staggering proposition, she had not been marked as submissive. Certainly not. She was his equal, never below.

There were omegas in the pack. Amber, and the kitten struck in his mind. Both willingly offered neck to the Alpha female. Both knew their place. At times it seemed unclear if Godric had known his in the past, but he knew where it was now. His place was flanking the Coyote. Protecting her, and the others. Go, Dillion, Amber, Kitten, even the newest friend Charna. Those who called Coyote friend, were friends of Godrics.

Briar Wilthorne · Date: 2009-09-23 06:18 EST

The Coyote was changing, her nature altering from what it had been so many years before. Brilyah no longer felt as the woman she had been before. Still savage, still wild, still predominantly unpredictable but no longer one that walked alone.

The letter received by Red had done nothing more then displease her and though she would never admit it... worried her. Pack looked after each other. Bound by the ways of blood and sweat and family.

Reactions of Godric to that letter hit home. Struck to her core as if the letter was meant for her. She watched the exhausted lycan as he slept beside her, chartreuse flickering over his marked form.

He would not know that so many years ago, the Coyote had burned everything of her past to ashes and cinders. It wasn't just the bridge that had burned down that night.

More in common then she would ever admit. Languid and sated with a head full of memories and twisting thoughts she had no desire to face, the Coyote rolled and tangled herself closer to him. Muscles rolling under the Marks left.

Marked as his mate. Equal. He had left her deeply marked in that line of trespassing dance between pleasure and pain.

Before she closed her eyes and lost herself to another drowsy bit of sleep with him, she looked around the room with that unsettling realization. The pack was growing... and the Inn was no longer going to serve them as home.

Godric · Date: 2009-09-23 13:29 EST

Night Visions.
The animal hadn?t dreamt in centuries, it wasn?t common for wolves to dream regularly, or at least dream vividly. The night fading around him, arms and legs lashed wildly, as if in pursuit. Pursuit of the leeches. Chased to the clearing, and before the ambush could be executed Godric had rolled onto his stomach and forced himself awake. He would have to allow for help from the pack on this. The thought alone set something heavy in that chest. His pride was not what mattered now.

Fog.
There was mist on the air made apparent before he ever even opened his eyes. He could smell it, heavy and wet. A low pleasured rumble snuck its way through his chest as he noted that the scent of Coyote made way to his nostrils. He was sure that she had left for morning hunt. So he didn?t expect to see her when he rolled over, making it no disappointment when he didn?t in fact find her.

Quickly dressing in the second skin of leather and animal pelt a decision was made that he would have to find another pair or two of pants and start saving pelts again. A shake of crimson mane as he made his way to the window. Peering out at the fog he slipped out, running along the room and heading straight for the glen for breakfast.

Briar Wilthorne · Date: 2009-09-23 19:38 EST

Out on the hunt. Wild and reckless. In the Fog she was a spark of light. Ember bright. As Coyote she seemed not of the desert forging fashion. Still lanky and wiry as coyotes were meant to be, but her sleek canine form was solid muscle... her fur not so much desert brown as it was the shade of what fur would be if burnt by the sun.

Black with smoldering touches of burning sun red and embered gold. When her paws touched the earth the ground sparked and smoldered. Coyote of Fire. Desert born energy.

The woman had been born and raised in the Nordic lands of frost and ice, winter and warriors... her soul meant as a battle maiden and her heart cold as the longest winter night. But her blood ran warm as her mothers had.

Fire ever in her blood. A walking paradox.

The Coyote roamed. The Coyote hunted. It freed her from thoughts. Was her spirit being tricked? Her heart made a savage toy?

In the Fog she burned. Smoldered. Blazed.

The solitaire hunt she could be left to fear, to worry, to let her guard down when it came to the matters of mind, body, soul... and by Loki... even heart.

Marked.

There was no going back.

Mihaela · Date: 2009-09-24 08:27 EST

The touch, the feeling...

How can one explain to someone that is not a cat that she needs to be touched, to be petted. It was the only thing she missed of the other pard, the kitty piles. Being able to touch and cuddle and not have it be sexual.

That would be the first thing she gets if she finds a permanent place, A huge bed.

but that brings her back to the problem she has now. The feeling of being isolated. She is a cat. It wasn't about sex and mating. Those were bonuses to her. She wanted the comfort of another. She wanted to be able to lay nude in a pile of bodies and not have someone trying to mate with her.

Yeah, she enjoyed that interlude with the Lupe. She's be lying to say otherwise. But it was the relieving of tension followed by getting booted out that had her upset. She knew it would happen but it doesn't dull the worthless she feels. She felt like the toy that had been used and discarded and it was something she hated.

The woman was never promiscuous. She rarely had the time to spend with another, let alone gave herself over like that. Always in control, always holding herself back. The nicknames would roll around the squad room like water. The favorite one was Ice Bitch.

With the awakening of the cat, she found herself needing to be touched and petted. It was how she found herself as a panther at the Lupe's feet and why she was not impressed with the White Devil when he disdained the greeting.

It was not easy being the feline surrounded by the canines.

Take a human was the suggestion. Easier said than done...

She made light of the fact she wasn't impressed with the current stock, but that was only half the truth. The main reason was far more chilling.

Her Lycanthropy is contagious. She had to be so careful that she did not want to risk turning another. She knew how that was. Gregory had turned her. He though it was funny to try to control the Ice Bitch cop by making her one of his toys.

Guess he didn't hear about the Surgeon General's warning on making a strong willed cop into a lycanthrope. Can cause death was underlined and in bold print.

Still she was not the sadist that Gregory was. She could not bare to bring anyone else the shit she went through. Maybe she did hate what she was. No, she hated the thought of hurting another.

Amber Vanlaer · Date: 2009-09-24 17:24 EST

Like a rogue card floating in the deck, more positive than negative; this was Moon Runner.

The canine creature did not boast the eldritch nature of her bloodline, she did not seek or indulge overly in her Were nature as the rest of her Pack seemed to. Amber was a business woman, refined to the point where a delicious balance of propriety and visceral aspects of herself mingled with every step.

Though absent from most indulgent sprawls that strengthened the heart of a Pack's whole, Amber was also apart from the consequence and intrigue of personal play partners and the game of Alpha and Beta.

It'd been some time since the She Wolf had been a part of anything called Pack, so it was something that would take adjusting to. She'd been a rogue, and outcast, a creature denied her home through the deceit and dishonor of other's too proud to admit defeat in their heart's desires. Though Moon Runner would not outwardly speak about her past, no one ever asked; it was not a proud thing to speak of despite her success since the somber ceremony of her Clan's shunning.

Amber would not engrain too far just yet, her throat was offered, and now bore marks, but in her heart she still held a wildfire apart from the main blaze of her stitched together Kin. Pack was Pack, but true blood held the strongest ties.

Then there was Stripes, Pretty Kitty; Luc. Another creature set apart despite the minor draw in of Like to Like. Amber respected the creature's pious nature and quiet demeanor. He spoke as if every word had value, and was considerate no matter the verbal offense; a rare thing where animal ran rampant so obviously in one's blood.

Stripes held Moon Runner's respect and friendship above the rest, if only for this reason.

Tip toe, dance to and fro, a tap between the lines; Amber was respectful and devout, yet still as a creature all her own. Perhaps this is what she enjoyed most about the Pack; one for all and all for one, without losing what made one, one.

With wealth and success at her sharp fingertips, and nothing but a fairly positive road stretched out before her unshod feet, the She Wolf was beginning to find a few pieces that'd been lost along the way.

Long live Pack.

Briar Wilthorne · Date: 2009-09-25 07:36 EST

Pack was life. Pack was Blood. Pack was family. Rules of the wild that were unspoken. The Coyote hunted but in that night she was not hunting for wild weak creatures but other orders. Delivery of calling out the killer again.

The kill had sated her. The money after was indifference to the Coyote. It paid for things but the beast within her could care nothing for it. The gloves had been lost in the kill. A touch to drain, to take and claim as her own. Possess that power. It left its touch upon her.

Chartreuse eyes held a strand of gold sun, the white pale of skin seemed ruddy under the moonlight.

Hard to tell what the Coyote had got herself into but she was a burning sun bathed in blood.

There were many secrets the Coyote held. Beast certainly but ever more. Once there was no control. She had managed to dominate even her own power that would take the energy of others, drain them dry with a mere touch. Take of their power and make it her own, imprint of their own appearance on her skin.

Worn as a badge of honor.A serial killer's take away.

On a natural high from the kill she found herself in violence at the Inn. Kin not of Blood but of Soul and understanding in a rough street fight with the blue eyed one. It stirred something within the Coyote to find Ali as that. The rare one who hadn't turned against her when the sh*t hit the fan and went down around her.

He hadn't killed himself off though in fist fight which settled well with the Coyote.

Something had changed within her. Exhausted and worn she hardly remembered when Godric had carried her to the room.

A soul stirring, sandstorm in her spirit. Wild and likely to leave its touch. In the feral dreams her fingers curled. Sensing him everywhere in them.

Dream drunk and ensnared in the mountain wonder of Go, the feral promise of Godric, the unbreakable bond to Dillon.

Stirred, untamed.

Godric · Date: 2009-09-25 15:11 EST

The night in question, feral tangling of sheets with the Kitten. He had done with her what he hadn?t offered most. He wouldn?t take anything of lesser value to his bed, the fact that she was invited spoke volumes to her character. Weak little things had no place providing heat beside him. Animals quickly broken would not have forced him into sheet tangle toe curling ends.

Then he would leave, as he had done to every previous. Either he was exhausted past waking and passed out there to sneak out in the morning or he would dress and be away. Sometimes for the hunt, sometimes for the slow burn of liquor. But always away. It had bothered her. He knew it. For the life of him he couldn?t understand it but he knew it had. She had offered herself to the coyote that night. As a moment of spite for the ancient lycanthrope or perhaps it was her intention all along. He couldn?t have been sure. Either way he lay awake thinking about it.

He had to find something in himself, something that had gone with his last shred of ill gotten humanity. He had never wanted to feel, to understand what humans did. But the kitten understood it, and it was apparent that by those standards he had made a mistake. Unsure of what he was supposed to do after the feral act of wild mating he could do little more than lay there, at coyote?s feet and wonder. Another form of wonderment: The Coyote. She had displayed pain, internal wounding of the spirit that night. It shook something inside of him. Something he had never shown anyone before. But both Coyote and Kitten had witnessed his whimper of discord.

He carried her to bed, brought her to safe haven with him keeping watch. Something he wouldn?t have done for any other. Pack or otherwise. He felt momentary as if he was a tamed beast. A puffing of chest and a feral marking of bed post made him feel better. Four claws dragged to injure wood of the delicately made bed. A rumble of a growl for the act. He was not broken, would never be broken. He had done what he had done for his own reasons and god save whoever questioned him for it.

Peace: He was granted it in the solace of sleep. Again vivid dreams. Animalistic. Primal. Flashes of colors, shapes scents. All revolving around that desert worn, blood laced scent that he had grown so accustomed to. He didn?t wake from the dream at will. It allowed him to wake once it had run its course. Wild and heavy in his mind. A calling of spirit from one vessel to another. Walk together in dreams. When the grip had loosened he was left feeling sated, and yet all together hungry. Rested, but weary of leaving the body of the night vision. A conundrum of the most massive internal sort. Rising, already dressed, the creak of new leather signified he was leaving. Out the window, across the roof, and into the forest, to find something to taint his wanting pallet.

Briar Wilthorne · Date: 2009-09-25 16:22 EST

She woke up alone. The Coyote could have sworn that hours before Godric had been at her feet like the pet of the Queen. No. It couldn't have been that way.

It wasn't like her. Wasn't like him.Hands rubbed her face. Bare hands. Gloveless. A soft curse as she pushed her body up to elbows, crawling out of bed as she swayed a bit. Unsteady and unsettled on her feet.

A pair of leathers pulled on, a loose shirt that near fell to thighs. Her hair was pulled up. Twisted and piled atop her head. She searched her room till finding a suitable pair of gloves to slip on.

She had become reckless. Sigh breathed out when the leather slipped back over her palms they were placed on the window sill and she leaned out toward the morning's overcast claim of nature. Breathing in lungfuls of air like she needed it to live.

The coyote was not foolish. She knew well that the mating between Mihaela and Godric would cause potential heartache for the Kitten. Perhaps in her soul, Brilyah was nothing more then a sadist. Knowing that the Kitten would experience pain.

Like she had once.

Red was hers. The notion of it claimed her more intimately then she ever would admit. Spoke to her just as the connection to Go and Dillon did.

She found herself watching the world outside. Wondering where they all hunted at now...

Amber Vanlaer · Date: 2009-09-25 19:00 EST

To taste the wind through fur and skin, lips or muzzle drawn wide to sift through oral olfactories the scent of the night's freedoms. Amber hunted, but rarely; her tastes were more for the thrumming thrill of a run through her muslces. The burn, the pulse, the taste, the rush...

It was an undeniable intoxicant.

Harvest yellow eyes, midnight brown fur, ivory fangs bared in a feral smile as her canine head bawled backwards in the thrall. Where the Coyote was sun soaked and blazing, Runner was night soaked and radiant; both a blaze of energy, but duel in their feel and presence. Amber in no way played an Alpha role, but her glow did command a certain attention, a lackadaisical lure, charming and subtle.

It showed in her powerful stride, her otherworldly grace during mid-paw-pound to the earthen floor. Sleek tail bristled to steer and balance, her technique flawless and engrained, not learned. Vicious claws and fangs played onto a superficial part to the untamable burn that fueled her belly. Briar was correct to name her Moon Runner, on both parts.

This is how she spent her free hours when not indulging in the many civil activities like chit-chat and a good, burning drink; running, sprinting, pouncing, and bounding. The trees were as much her playground as the roiling hill and dale, for she'd change elegantly in mid-jump, clawed, human hands sinking into barked flora flesh so the She Wolf could climb and nestle in a limbed perch and bask in the mother moon's glow.

When the night grew closer to day, only then would Amber trot on home at a more leisurely pace, her scent a bold, passionate thing that lead to her kiddy-corner nook of an apartment building. A small villa, really; sconced with plant life that overspilt patiently tended to window boxes.

Moon Runner's hollow was welcome to any and all her Pack. A place to relax or unwind, for it was a vast, sprawling interior that connected room to room without much dividing wall; public and cave-like, yet high with it's minute vaulted ceilings and round-arched doorways.

Fur melded into skin, naked and bristling with warmth from her exertions, as the lean, lank suppleness of Moon Runner slipped into her hedonistic sprawl of pillows and sheets.

Mihaela · Date: 2009-09-25 19:07 EST

Eastern Wind, blow clear blow clean
Cleanse my body of its pain
Cleanse my mind of what I've seen
Cleanse my honor of its stain
Maid whose love has never ceased
Bring me healing from the east

Fear...

A heart racing on the edge of panic...

The hunter on two legs...

Old habits die hard...

The male had gotten away with much in his life. A little touch here, a caress there. 'Don't tell anyone because they won't believe you.' He had been bold in his actions and his own flesh suffered for it. Years of abuses and cruel touches.

Perhaps the maiden had delivered the girl to her. The scent of fear had been thick on her and her eyes red with tears. She didn't want to go home this night, having reached the breaking point. The maiden had mercy on the girl in the form of the huntress.

Southern wind, blow hot blow hard
Fan my courage to a flame
Southern wind be guide and guard
Add your bravery to my name
Let my will and yours be twinned
Warrior of the southern wind

The roar of the big cat pursued the man through the wood outside of the city. Here she was in her element. The prey was something sick to it's core. She didn't care if it was two legged or not, it was an animal and thus prey. The warrior rode her in this instant, spurring her to hunt and toy with this one. She never quite caught him.

It was intentional...

Wind's four quarters, air and fire
Earth and water, hear my desire,
Grant my plea who stands alone,
Maiden, Warrior, Mother and Crone

She had taken the girl to the little Tea shop. She paid for food and drink making sure she eat something this night. A little kindness had the girl unraveling at the seams and sobbing. The cop that she had been had all of her trigger points go off at once.

What the girl described sickened both woman and cop. It set her hackles on edge as the story pour out of her like a broken damn. The years and the horror.

Western wind blow stark, blow strong
Grant me arm and mind of steel
On a road both hard and long
Mother, hear me where I kneel
Let no weakness on my quest
Hinder me, wind of the west

The mother would not allow this to happen any longer. Cop turning to warrior in these times. Warrior becoming something else...

The man had been startled away from his latest victim. So he liked to abuse women and young girls. The eyes bled to feline and all her heard as he begged for his life was...

"Run."

Wind's four quarters, air and fire
Earth and water, hear my desire,
Grant my plea who stands alone,
Maiden, Warrior, Mother and Crone

The run heightened the chase. Adrenaline coursing through her as she slowly, purposely gained ground on her prey. There would be no weakness in her hunt.

No Mercy...

Northern wind, blow cruel blow cold
Sheathe my aching heart in ice
Armor round my soul enfold
Crone, I need not call you twice
To my foes bring the cold of death
Chill me north wind's frozen breath!

The man stumbled and fell in his wild run. His mind still grasped a hold of the hope that he could escape this woman. She was clearly on those creature that the Proposition people could help him with. He would be safe then...

As he tried scramble to his feet, he was pushed forward onto his face by a powerful body colliding with his. They rolled on the ground until he was able to face his attacker. His face grew pale as hope and his bladder failed him.

Wind's four quarters, air and fire
Earth and water, hear my desire,
Grant my plea who stands alone,
Maiden, Warrior, Mother and Crone
Maiden, Warrior, Mother and Crone

The young girl had gathered the courage to go to the watch with her story. She guided them to the house where they found evidence to support her story. There they found the house owner cowering in a puddle of his own urine. He appeared to had seen something terrifying that had reduced him to a gibbering mess.

And of the creature that he was cowering from in his madness?

There was no evidence.

======================================

The huntress was perched on a roof across the street from the house. She was content that justice would finally come due on this house. The hunt did much to soothe her spirit.

She had submitted because after all was said and done she found she could not bear to be an outsider. Her presence may not have been objected to but she did not wish to be on the outside looking in anymore.

As for her heartache, she would deal with it as she dealt with everything else in her life. Strive to prove herself... The wolf was off limits to her. He was the Coyote's on all levels and she his. For the best really, she was a cat.

Never the twain shall meet...

(Credit: "Winds Four Quarters" Mercedes Lackey, Performed by either Heather Alexander (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6yABakvr1hA) or Leslie Fish (above) )

Briar Wilthorne · Date: 2009-09-25 20:16 EST

(Depeche Mode- Wrong http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5bsXOcK9_Cw )

I was born with the wrong sign
In the wrong house
With the wrong ascendancy
I took the wrong road
That led to the wrong tendencies
I was in the wrong place at the wrong time
For the wrong reason and the wrong rhyme
On the wrong day of the wrong week
I used the wrong method with the wrong technique

Something wasn't right. It felt wrong. Unwelcome and Unbidden. Unsettled she paced before she was jumping out of the window from the second floor. Landing on four paws.

Four feet under her the Coyote could think better, move quicker. Three mates she had. The Law. Shades. Red. Dillon, Go, and Godric. Sinew and corded muscle rolled, stretching itself to the limits of her ability. Her power.

There's something wrong with me chemically
Something wrong with me inherently
The wrong mix in the wrong genes
I reached the wrong ends by the wrong means
It was the wrong plan
In the wrong hands
The wrong theory for the wrong man
The wrong eyes on the wrong prize
The wrong questions with the wrong replies

Running under the moon she was a bright burning beacon. Lanky and long she was a wiry thing that should not be disregarded. She was not a smooth furred creature, not silky as the Wolf or the Kitten. Her fur was bristling and rough. Sharp and rugged. Black with burning strands of interlacing red gold.

Desert Queen she was meant to be. Now claimed as Alpha of this mismatched pack she had contrived. Something unsettled in her spirit. Unleashed she pushed herself more. Muzzle tilted toward the sky. A yip before that sound of the Coyote howling filled the silence.

An eerie haunting sound. Tormenting and tearing the soul, rendering the heart into ribbons. Agony and Sorrow. Torture and Pain... and through it all the wild dark of fury and hunger. It echoed around her and she cried out to the moon a challenge.

I was marching to the wrong drum
With the wrong scum
Pissing out the wrong energy
Using all the wrong lines
And the wrong signs
With the wrong intensity
I was on the wrong page of the wrong book
With the wrong rendition of the wrong look
With the wrong moon, every wrong night
With the wrong tune playing till it sounded right

This was not meant to be. Something... had changed. Something was altering within the Coyote. Something she had yet to understand. Something she did not know if she could face. A burn in her spirit, The coyote's song was something that could haunt the soul. Linger in a crawl at the spine.

Locked away in the deep shadow flame of her hidden parts of soul... the Coyote understood fear. Panic. Uncertainty.

I was born with the wrong sign
In the wrong house
With the wrong ascendancy
I took the wrong road
That led to the wrong tendencies
I was in the wrong place at the wrong time
For the wrong reason and the wrong rhyme
On the wrong day of the wrong week
I used the wrong method with the wrong technique

Briar Wilthorne · Date: 2009-09-28 11:57 EST

Drama and Tension never had worked well with the Coyote. Complete discord was in her spirit after the argument with Go. She was uncertain of his actions, unsettled by his promises that he wasn't going anywhere and yet time and time again he disappeared... walked away.

His accusations had raised her hackles,made her wary and uncertain. Brilyah hated that feeling. A hand moved across her arm, careful and cautious of those barbs and sharp edges. A faint grimace. Those were hardly fashion statements. She wore them like armor. Kept any from getting close to her.

So long ago it was only Dillon that got a glimpse into the soul of the Coyote. He had accepted her through thick and thin. Watched her back. One of the few souls she would trust with her life. Partners in Crime. Bonded by Blood and Understanding. Now though it was different.

Reflection pooled through her spirit as she closed her eyes,a tangled embrace with Godric that she was so cautious not to disturb. Her thoughts running a mile a minute as she opened her eyes, saw the protective hold he had on her, arms holding her close with his palm pressed intimately to her stomach.

His touch did such things to her, even looking at him and his claim of her had her stirring against him. When had the sensation faded from hunger and desire to something... more?

The Coyote couldn't help but think of those seeking blue-green eyes, ever feline of the little Vixen as she pleaded for answers and understanding as she asked of Briar's mates, asked about what it meant to be Marked, and if she loved any of them.

She had answered the questions with her own thoughtful consideration till the final one came around. Back straight and stiff, shoulders hunched as the question tore a sharp blade of pain through her. Her hushed whisper was a 'Yes'. Terrified she had left it at that.

To love again. It was a dangerous thing. She held and had no choices in it all though did she? With Dillon the emotions remained unspoken, it was better that way. With Go the affection was what she imagined her love would be like if she was still young and innocent and open to the aspiration of hope. A childish whim of affection was wrapped and invested in Shades.

Then there was Godric. When he had been just barely touched with that knife it had torn her heart to shreds. The sight of blood spilling from her mate left her ballistic. She stirred against him, a hand lifting to cover her shoulder where he had marked her. Her fingers moved, curved into claws to trace and mimic that marking he had left on her. Her hand moved then to fall on his chest where she had marked him. When he would sleep she was able to be vulnerable and loving.

Overhearing him and Go talk of her had near been ice water in her veins. Godric had wanted to know what it was like to find and see Brilyah's loving side. It pained her that he believed he would not know that side of her. Lips brushed over the place she had marked, traced them. Sacred enough, did he not realize she had marked him over his heart? They had come so far from parlor tricks and poker games.

So far, a whisper breathed out against his flesh. Words to be feared to spoken out in the open or when he was awake. There were many reasons why he had not visibly seen the loving side of Brilyah... if he did... he would know the means to kill her, break her, destroy her. She wanted to trust him... did trust him... but the past kept it's leash on her. Go had been right, they were nothing more then dogs.

And she was no better then a mongrel collared by the pound when it came the leash her past had on her.

Godric · Date: 2009-09-28 18:12 EST

((The song is "Pet" by A Perfect Circle))

?Don?t fret precious I?m here?Step away from the window?Go back to sleep??

Godric was as a wolf would be, curled up against the Coyote. Crimson mane as a pillow, body twisted and curled around itself. He was awake, very much alert to the sounds coming from the inn below there. Every raised voice was granted a twitch of ear, a shifting of sight as he listened.

On guard: He watched his mate as sleep held delicately to her. His mind drifting between the noise from the inn below and a past he was all but sure he had forgotten. It arose now in his consciousness now as if he had never worked so hard to lock it away in the first place.

?Lay your head down child I wont let the boogieman come??

It was a century earlier. Godric seemed so different, his face less sullen his attitude worlds lighter. In general the lycanthrope took himself and his role as alpha less seriously. It would be his downfall, the kink in his mythril armor. His pack was small. His mate Natasha, her brother Nathanial, Nathanial?s mate Aubren and the pups. Three females were born to Godric and Natasha, the other two females and the only male were Nathanial and Aubren?s. The children were born under the same moon, and were inseparable. It was no shock when they went off in their own tiny pack to hunt in the fields. They were lead by Godric?s daughter Renkah. The others followed her every command. That night they had left the caverns to hunt in the meadow.

The caverns. The back has muscled another pack out of them, in those times a man was defined by the strength of his back and the sweat of his brow. Things wanted were purchased or stolen. Simpler times. The air was crisp, game was plenty and the streams were clean. The pack that occupied the cave before them had been weak and unorganized. It took little fight to get them to abandon their home. A well placed snarl, a few slashes of claws, some raised hackles. Godric?s small pack never once assumed the other shifters would ever return to reclaim their home. Less so would Godric have ever imagined they would barter for the help of the pale faced ones.

Vampires, known enemy of the wolf. The feud had began centuries before even Godric could remember. The spat had been over land, or a woman, or both. The real reason was never made clear to Godric. But for a price the Vampires would aid anyone in need. Their price steep but they were Ruthless. Never fading, never faltering, always with their eyes on exactly on the task at hand. They were bloodthirsty, ruthless. They had dispatched all six pups, before Godric could make his way to the meadows where the children had been hunting for mice and chipmunks. Renkah?s howl caught the ears of Godric and his ran until muscles burned like acid death and his breath came short. Upon arrival six tiny wolf bodies lay in a heap with four pale faces, three males and a female. Godric tore three to shreds. He jumped them, shifting mid air to that hybrid form. Half man, half wolf. He tore three of the pale faces to shreds. Two of the males and the only female. Fangs bared, haunches tight, claws dug and bit at the flesh of the three he had killed. The only way to kill them that he was aware of was to tear them to shreds and burn them, but his claws were poison to the leeches, eating away flesh from bone. The last had gotten away and Godric had left in him to follow him. Six tiny pelts, six tiny graves, and yet not one tear. He was numb, heard nothing. Felt nothing. Saw nothing. Only after arrangements had been made did Godric stalk back towards the caverns, six little pelts clenched tight in his muzzle.

He was a mile and a half out from the Caverns when scent hit nostrils. Eyes went wide and a full run broke out. Blood, his packs blood, tangled together and he knew then that he had made a terrible mistake. Godric had been gathering tiny pelts and burying the children while the caverns were ransacked. Nathanial killed and drained immediately. The woman taken, beaten, raped, tortured and drained. The back had reclaimed their caverns. In his heart Godric knew immediately it was his own fault. He had been strapped to formality of burying the children when he should have been back protecting what he had left of his pack.

?Count the bodies like sheep to the rhythm of the war drum. Pay no mind to rabble, head down go to sleep to the rhythm of the war drums.?

It was then that Godric shifted into his humanoid form. Where he remained for a century. Denying who he was, what he was. Slipping into the most unsavory line of work: Flesh dealer. His days as a slaver had been trying and he would not allow himself to think on them now. The wolf quickly brought his thoughts away from less savory thoughts. His mind returning to Briar, her rugged sweet scent, tangled within his own. His nose pressed to her throat, scenting her, drinking her in, and the scent only he could find on her. He would do right by them. His new pack was all that mattered now. And Godric would be dammed if he made the same mistakes twice.

Amber Vanlaer · Date: 2009-09-28 18:23 EST

Observing the members of her Pack was an ever intense thing.

Quality time had at last been spent, bodies leaning and lounging, limbs sprawled and affectionate; the Kitten and the Coyote, and yes, even the ever chuckling, bespectacled Shades. Amber had seen several sides of all that night, her smile ever lit, lilted at times in such a manner that would make the Mona Lisa proud.

Such casual means, such fondness shared between reassuring and gentle touches, the rumble and roil from pleased throats, the sting of sweet, aged cognac and the spice of good cider. The sharp, ginger crack of home baked snaps; Moon Runner hadn't known such joys in many years. Swallowing back those joyous years long past, the wolf, if only for this night, enjoyed the comfort and company of her mish-moshed Pack.

'Perhaps...' She thought to herself when her time to leave finally arrived. Just perhaps, the she wolf could arrange a large sprawl at her apartment sometime in the future.

Moon Runner could see the Briar and Mihaela enjoying her plush alpaca carpet very much.

Briar Wilthorne · Date: 2009-09-28 22:06 EST

(A Perfect Circle- Passive http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vFw9fHN6Bhc&feature=fvst)

Someday I will walk away and say,
?You disappoint me,?
Maybe you?re better off this way

Leaning over you here, cold and catatonic
I catch a brief reflection of what you could and might have been
It's your right and your ability
To become?my perfect enemy?

Games could taste like destruction and betrayal. The world's greatest secrets lost in the mountains of a man. Deception. Deceit. Fury in a rampant pace. Prowling back and forth in spirit. Disappointment that one might walk away when she had offered a bit of herself. A bit of insight. A bit of care.

She didn't understand him and he was not willing to offer her any sort of insight. Any sort of welcome or pull to her nature and way. Gentle offerings even still seemed like lies to the Coyote. The Trickster's daughter had been truly played. It sang in her soul like mockery. Violent accusations and torment.

Briar was her biggest and greatest enemy. Tore her soul to shreds for a fool's regard of the wall. She had let her guard down. Her guard...

She was out the window then. Afraid to let Red see her falling apart. That vulnerability. Proof of love. That's what they wanted. Proof of being let in. To have the Coyote let her guard down.

The Coyote disappeared in the dark alley. Slowly those barbs and bits of serrated silver that plated her flesh were torn, rendered, savagely pulled from her flesh where they covered her skin from shoulders to wrists. The gloves pulled off. Discarded.

Coated and covered in blood, Go had found her. He assumed she was attacked. Had bandaged her up. She tried to get a way in to see a bit of him... but he wouldn't even show her his bit of soul. Let her in even when she had torn down her own guard.

There was no turning back. She had walked away. Left him at the bar as she had curled at the hearth. Curling into herself and wanting only Red. Red could understand. Red would know.

Already the angry wounds were healing to jagged violent scars at her arms. Gloveless she had touched Go and it was revealed in the white blond of her hair, the sun drenched gold of her flesh. Desert Queen.

Moon Runner had come to her. Had brought a bit of comfort. A bit of solace. She hid her tears and her anguish in that soft pelt. But when she lifted her face she would wear that Alpha's mask. Invincible. Unbreakable.

She had to be. For the pack. Always for the Pack.

Wake up (can't you) and face me (come on now),
Don?t play dead (don't play dead)
Cause maybe (because maybe)
Someday I?ll (someday I'll) walk away and say,
?You fvcking disappoint me!?
Maybe you?re better off this way

Godric · Date: 2009-09-29 00:36 EST

When Godric asked Go what had happened he had been informed that he had beaten Briar. Filthy liar. He called them dogs. Better a dog than a coward. Baiting at Godric to force him to strike. Godric wasn?t as stupid as the man had thought. He knew damn well the plight. If he had struck the pet, it would have turned bad. He could have claimed he was asserting himself as Alpha, he could have claimed he believed Go and that he was worried about him doing it again to Briar. But he wouldn?t lie to her. He couldn?t have hit Go in good conscious and then lied about it to his mate. She would have seen through it.

Godric was a bad man, a murderous man, a downright unsavory one at times, but he wasn?t a liar. Less so to Briar. He had brought the kitten out of the Inn and to the alley. Only then did Godric show anger. Not only because he had failed to attack the man more because he knew that Go was going to hurt the Coyote. There was nothing that Godric could do to stop it and he knew it. He had to let Go hang himself. He wanted nothing more than to sit down with the woman he cared about. But he knew he had to let her rest. Let her body heal from the damage done. So there he sat in the Alley, angry, hurt, tormented, below her window.

He had the Kitten with him. He was fond of the fact that she didn?t think to judge him. She didn?t see his love for Briar as weakness. Even if he hadn?t ever come out and said he was in love with her. He had decided that passion was just as strong as any other emotion, it was why he kept his watch over the stunning female. Why he flanked her in times of distress. Why he held her tight when foolish men had forced her to render herself emotionally exposed. The night had forced Godric to admit things to himself that worried him. Emotions raked bare that he would rather be covered. He had to speak to the Coyote, so he would wait for her. That night when he went to bed he did not sleep instead he gingerly changed her bandages, spending the time to bath each wound with his tongue. A shake of his head as pain struck him again, he got the brush off of the dresser and spent hours grooming her. Waiting for her to awake so they could talk about a few things.

Briar Wilthorne · Date: 2009-09-29 06:31 EST

(Korn-Freak on a Leash)

Something takes a part of me
Something lost and never seen
Every time I start to believe
Something's raped and taken from me, from me

Life's kinda always been messing with me
You wanna see the light?
Can't they chill and let me be free?
So do I
Can't I take away all this pain?
You wanna see the light?
I try to every night, all in vain, in vain

Chartreuse flickered open, woke in darkness with that sensory of stiffness, soreness. The sensation of violence and pain. She wanted to ravage the town, tear it to shreds, tear the world apart. Part of her wanted to be unleashed on the place to just kill them all off. Her gloveless fingers curled.

She thought she would end up alone. When she crawled up to bed that night and left the Moon Runner with her wolven coat covered in the Coyote's tears and uncertainty she had crawled into an empty bed. Feeling every wound. Every scar like it was a representation of all she went through. Battered and bruised. Self inflicted, but the abuse of her spirit, her heart. Another matter entirely.

Sometimes I cannot take this place
Sometimes it's my life I can't taste
Sometimes I cannot feel my face
You'll never see me fall from grace

Something takes a part of me
You and I were meant to be
A cheap f*** for me to lay
Something takes a part of me

Feeling like a freak on a leash
You wanna see the light?
Feeling like I have no release
So do I
How many times have I felt diseased?
You wanna see the light?
Nothing in my life is free, is free

Nothing better then a dog with a collar on when it came to Go. Her body curled into itself. Mentally scolding herself. She should not have let him get so close to her. How foolish... that little girl of her spirit had died a long time ago. No reason to let Shades make an attempt to revive her. Sure as hell now he had killed that little girl all over again.

She felt it then, Red's tongue licking those wounds. His body around hers. Tangled. He was holding her, near to her like she was going to break and fall apart. Which maybe wasn't so close to the truth. Her heart found a wild tandem. Yes she had told Charna a few days ago...she loved her mates.

More so then ever the sinking realization that she loved him. Loved Godric as if he was...no... was... the Alpha of her heart, body, soul. Her fingers curled. Controlling that power as fingers brushed the crimson of his mane before she was burying her face into it and breathing in his scent.

"Red..."

A whisper. Embers in a broken snap. Falling apart all over again but this time the falling wasn't so bad when laced with love.

Sometimes I cannot take this place
Sometimes it's my life I can't taste
Sometimes I cannot feel my face
You'll never see me fall from grace

Something takes a part of me
You and I were meant to be
A cheap f*** for me to lay
Something takes a part of me

Something takes a part of me
You and I were meant to be
A cheap f*** for me to lay
Something takes a part of me
Part of me, part of me
Part of me

Godric · Date: 2009-09-29 07:35 EST

((HIM-The Sacrament))
I hear you breathe so far from here
I feel your touch so close and real
And I know
My church is not of silver and gold,
Its glory lies beyond judgement of souls
The commandments are of consolation and warmth

You know our sacred dream won't fail
The sanctury tender and so frail
The sacrament of love
The sacrament of warmth is true
The sacrament is you

As she stirred he froze and then stared up at her. He finished with the bathing of wounds quickly, he had been caught in the act. He didn?t care if he looked vunerable there before her. Worry laced into the furrow of his brow as he reached up to feel for fever. Fingers were burning against cool flesh and he pulled his hand away satisfied with his findings. Lips pressed to her stomach before he sat cross legged before her. Swallowing hard amber eyes pierced against the Coyote. His jaw shook lightly as he thought of what to say. He couldn?t think of a word, so instead of things to say he wrapped his arms around her shoulders, face pressed against her neck. A deep breath brushing against delicate flesh as she buried her face against his hair.

?I?m here, I?ve been here all night. I?m not going anywhere. I knew he didn?t do this to you. I knew he lied.?

He was speaking against her neck, unable to pull himself away from her just yet. He couldn?t smell the man on her, and once he had realized that Go had probably just help fix her up. He knew damn well it had been a pissing contest. Pulling back from Briar a bit he scanned her face. His blood boiled again with rage as he saw the mark Go had been talking about on her cheek, just below her eye. Pads of index and middle finger gently touched there, Go had said he had punched her there. Going so far as to shake off his filthy knuckles in a display of real showmanship. What an actor. A deep sigh and he leaned up to brush lips over the bruise. He couldn?t taste Go on that either. He needed to know. He didn?t want to kill a man for no reason. Strong fingers tangled back her hair, raking stray blonde strands behind her ears and cupping her cheeks. He watched her carefully. If she was going to fall apart, he would be right there with open hands to gather the pieces and put her back together. He would offer pieces of himself to make her whole again if need be. He pressed his forehead against hers and whispered the same thing over again.

?I?m here, I?ve been here. I wont leave you.?

I hear you weep so far from here
I taste your tears like you're next to me
And I know
My weak prayers are not enough to heal
The ancient wounds so deep and so dear
The revelation is of hatred and fear

You know our sacred dream won't fail
The sanctury tender and so frail
The sacrament of love
The sacrament of warmth is true
The sacrament is you
The sacrament is you
The sacrament is you
The sacrament is you
The sacrament is you

He loved her and even if he couldn?t say the words, the shake of jaw and twitch of bottom lip would show he was upset. Never a tear, he knew the guild she would assume upon herself if he cried but he was distraught. He knew now she had done this herself, the blood still leaving heavy scent on fingers. Bare fingers. He shook his head. He reached into his back pocket and handed her over a pair of gloves. He didn?t force her to put them back on but they were there incase she wanted them. He swallowed hard as he attempted to speak conherantly.

?You left them in the Alley. I understand why you did what you did. But Ill have you know I nearly killed Go on this night. I let my rational mind keep the best of me. I showed him no sign of anger. But even with the slightest inclination that he may have hurt you was enough to kill me. I am yours, and you are mine. You once told the Kitten she could partake in me but not to get attached, and not to assume it would go forever. I came too close to giving Go that same warning. But I know he?Calls to you. But he is boy Briar, he doesn?t love you?and if he does, he will never love you the way I do. He will never understand what power you hold, of mind, body?especially spirit. He is looking for a play thing, and he doesn?t know how to handle the woman he got instead.?

He paused there. No going back, he didn?t regret saying it. He never regretted anything he had said before this moment and this wasn?t going to turn the tides on that. He loved her. He wasn?t afraid of that. Mihaela had helped him. She had told him his feelings were not a weakness, that he shouldn?t have to disreguard them. Wise kitten than one. He nodded to the Coyote now chewing on bottom lip. A million things raced through his mind, he kept them to himself. Slipping behind him he pulled her against his chest, that wounded back of hers pressed against his bare chest. His chin laid to rest on her shoulder, hair spilling over her chest and pooling in her lap. Both arms wrapped around her. One hand rested, fingers spread, palm flat against her stomach. The other pressed between breasts over her heart. The heart that controlled his every move. He was not ashamed of giving that power to the coyote. He considered himself blessed to be granted a second chance at happyness.

?I am glad you are alright. I don?t know how I would have handled it if anything had happened to you. But please next time you decide to cause yourself intense bodily distress, make sure I am there. These wounds were a mess. You need a real wolf to clean your wounds.?

He laughed lightly trying to make her smile, laying back on the bed, still cradling her stomach and her heart. As they laid together Godric would hum, something Norse, the tune was ?Hunters wind?. He would hum in that rough, rugged tone and stroke her hair until she fell asleep. As soon as she slumbered, he too would join her.

You know our sacred dream won't fail
The sanctury tender and so frail
The sacrament of love
The sacrament of warmth is true
The sacrament is you

You know our sacred dream won't fail
The sanctury tender and so frail
The sacrament of love
The sacrament of warmth is true
The sacrament is you

Mihaela · Date: 2009-09-29 09:24 EST

He's drunk again, it's time to fight
She must have done something wrong tonight
The living room becomes a boxing ring
It's time to run when you see him
Clenching his hands, She's just a woman
Never Again

I hear her scream, from down the hall
Amazing she can even talk at all
She cries to me, Go back to bed
I'm terrified that she'll wind up
Dead in his hands, She's just a woman
Never Again

Go had touched off the rage within her with his irreverent words. The rage spread through each facet of the Geri - Woman, Cop, Beast - Survivor. Of them all, only Charna and Godric knew of what she had gone through. Only Godric knew what the scars on her wrists were from.

The rage was building in the pack... no pard. She would call it how she saw it. Meant a lot more to her beast, the Black leopard. It meant she saw it as her family truly. The terms were interchangeable depending on the breed.

He's drunk again, it's time to fight
Same old shit, just on a different night
She grabs the gun, she's had enough
Tonight she'll find out how f***ing
Tough is this man
Pulls the trigger as fast as she can
Never Again

Little boy abusers don't deserve a challenge. They deserve a bullet right between the eyes in her world. If she found out he did strike the Coyote, that what would be waiting for him. Promise or no...

You don't hit family and live.

Seen it before, but not like this
Been there before, but not like this
Never before have I ever
Seen it this bad
She's just a woman
Never Again

(Never Again by Nickelback)

Briar Wilthorne · Date: 2009-09-29 13:47 EST

His actions were not weakness. That care and concern had rarely if ever been extended to the Coyote. Most would have assumed to take care of the Coyote would be to insult her. Tough as Nails. Cold as Winter even if her skin burned. With Dillon and at Dillon's side she had been beaten, broken, stabbed, shot at. Everything and anything. It was a soldier looking after one of his own that they had taken care of each other. Nothing more nothing less. To reveal more then that being involved in emotion was a severe crime of their bond.

She wondered what Dillon would do if forced with this situation. Just like she wanted Godric there, she wished for Dillon to. His sharp and brutal mind, his perfect destruction. He would know what to do to play at the price of revenge and torture. Torment. Unaware of what it could mean or what Go had said. That he had struck her. Caused the abuse she had inflicted upon herself.

Brilyah could only watch his jaw tremble before he was pressing his face into her throat. His whispers left her shaking, trembles of emotion shook her to her very core. Realization settled in. Go had said he had done this to her? A light snarl in throat mixed with a laugh. Was it believable that the Desert King could beat her to such an extreme? Perhaps her soul, her heart but not her body. But maybe if he had come after her...maybe she wouldn't have fought back. Now though... all she could think of was sharp blades and spilling blood, something visceral and involving the spill of entrails. A beheading, a gutting. Cutting the skin from muscles. Stripping it off nice and slow.

The Coyote had softened by the edge of her sanity was still in limbo. Ever and always. Betray the Coyote face the price. Her fingers clenched for a moment, she wanted to scream out her rage but it only came as a muffled sound against Godric's throat. His words kept her tame, kept her subdued.

He wasn't going to leave her. He wasn't going to betray her. Head bowed, the sounds she made in her throat predominantly animal rather then woman. Eyes blazing absinthe poison like a warning.

Shaking with his words those wild coyote eyes were wicked and vulnerable all at the same time. That internal struggle. She couldn't stop how his words curled in her spirit. Forehead to his she breathed in deeply of his scent. Those walls came crashing down that she had worked so hard at to keep up all these years. So much torment, so much pain. Torture and love lost.. leaving her broken and vulnerable. All the reason for the toughest skin, the metal shards.

She took the gloves as they were offered. Slipped them on like a security blanket to a lost child. Head bowed she could only listen though his words burned a fever in her soul when he spoke of loving her more then Go ever could. Silent then. Unspeaking even if in her spirit she answered him.

Gloves back on her back pressed to his chest and she closed her eyes. Relief and contentment as his hair spilled over her and his fingers touched her stomach and between her breasts. An intimate sound rumbled softly in her throat. She moved his hair around her like a blanket of comfort. It hid the scars and those wounds.

"You are a real wolf, Godric. You are my Ulfric..."

A whisper. The sound of his humming of that Norse melody reminded her of home before things became rough and unbearable. Before her sister had betrayed her, taking the man she loved from her. Everyone she loved had been taken from her. Their deaths would be easier to tolerate but having them taken from her and not to return broke her. Her fingers smoothed through the red of his hair, watching it fall around her, covering her like red silk.

The words fell from her lips, so low and quiet they might never be heard or real.

"I love you, Godric."

She curled then to him, twisted her body in a tangle with his. Lips to seek, find, and claim his own. Body to touch and press and take his in that ever intimate and sensual sharing. Passionate and loving, ever feral but in that dark, heated moment there was no concern of it being about the carnal but about something more.

Something relating to love. She trusted him. Trusted him that in those moments with bodies locked and intertwined and his mouth and lips on hers and at her flesh that he could take her pain away. Take it all away.

Linaeve · Date: 2009-10-01 13:29 EST

]

Briar Wilthorne · Date: 2009-10-01 13:30 EST

Bad Karma. It would get you every time. Who better to know of this then the Coyote who once went by that Codename when she worked as an Enforcer for Christian. Working seemed a foolish thing to call it. She had no choice. Near enslaved to the self proclaimed Savior as one of his 'Horsemen.'

Go had visited the tavern that night when the new pack mate had been found. Judging by first meeting, Scales would appear the perfect Freki to Mihaela's Geri. A fine enforcer with his willing to serve the Coyote all for friendship and trust.

Satisfaction was found in that greeting to Go, the near rumble of a purr on tongue and calling him mate while the poison was in her eyes. That fine right hook of the Coyote had struck the desert king before he knew that first blood would be drawn.

The order had been made. Maim but not kill. Teach a lesson but not destroy. He did not deserve Valhalla.

She had left the Inn that night to return to the caverns. J'rial had been welcomed into the pack. Scentmarked as friend of the pack and of the pack if he wished.

The Moon Runner and the Kitten as well seemed to approve of Scales. That was enough for Briar. Slipping behind the waterfall she entered the caverns. The moon held no sway over her but to stretch her limbs with four feet under seemed appropriate for that hour.

Head lifted and in that cavern she would call out that Coyote cry. It echoed. They would know how to find her. By scent and by sound her motley pack.

Saurians. Wolves. Panthers. Coyotes. Who knew what else would find its way into the pack. It mattered not. They would have a place.

Amber Vanlaer · Date: 2009-10-01 13:32 EST

Scales, the balance of the world rested in scales. Leant left or right, add weight to a situation one way or another, and they'd tip.

Conflict threatened to disrupt the contentment the she wolf had found; Shades. His careless, indulgent nature was a threat to the balance of pack. Words flew back and forth, but being present for none of it, Amber drank it all in, letting the stories flow together and form parallels to begin finding truths. No one was a liar, really, but give a people a piece of information and watch as every fact pulled from the bulk of it all differs from the next.

A mediator caught between the pull of the coming celeste, Moon Runner kept as much cool as her beast would allow, prowling the line of the bar as her senses flooded with the ripeness of blood and rising ire, of confusion and the underlying scent of prey.

Go was very lucky, in a way, faulty party or no; Feral kin were not known for their civility, but for their tooth and claw.

As the fray and accusatory words died, Amber too calmed despite the tit-or-tat nature of her hackles at the moment. Bruised, swollen, and bloodied by the Coyote's knuckles, Shades helped the she wolf make up her mind to offer sanctuary should he feel threatened by his lonesome.

Her Alpha wouldn't allow his death, no matter what she wished; not yet at least. Briar had dealt the blow Go had claimed to give, now it was only a matter of pride. Pack was as much a blessing as it was a curse, but that was the price of Family. Though a part, Amber was also set apart due to her own long streak of independence. Self-built wealth was a charm of humanity she couldn't not enjoy. Her home was humble, but it was safe. Though no proud fighter, the she wolf could hold her own when the stakes were high.

She could tip the scales back.

But Shades declined, and Amber was not one to speak twice when her tone was serious. Let the fool of a Mate hang himself, she'd offered her peace.

And so, she passed by J'rial, their newest patch to the quilt, and the still fuming Kitten, brushing them both a quiet goodnight with the taste of gin still bright on her tongue. It was time to sleep, dawn came too early, and the she wolf had a business to run.

Briar Wilthorne · Date: 2009-10-02 06:16 EST

Closure. The pages of past had been settled and shut. An ancient tome set aside. Closed off forever. There could only be relief in that moment.

In the caverns she would stretch long and lean against her mate,curling within those pelts to draw in more heat. Her mind and body were exhausted. Worn with the nature of all it was to be Alpha.

She would always keep to her word. Never was the Coyote meant for broken or ridiculous promises. Her words fell ever and always as truth when it came to the pack.

Go had been a threat and now he was gone. Amber had ever been the peace maker but when a gun is drawn on the Moon Runner, where did the peace making end? The balance.

The Coyote refused to have Amber become a martyr just for the kindness of spirit.A light rumble was breathed into Godric's skin as his hair near became a blanket for her to tangle in. Exhausted she slept.

She had said goodbye. Goodbyes were like the admittance of death to the Coyote. Shades just did not exist to her anymore.

Choices had been made. Letters were wrote. Handed off to the Moon Runner before Go had gone off with that strange child of a woman with her hopeless threats.

He was dead to her. Enemy of the pack. Closure indeed. All that mattered was Red and the pack. The Coyote was focused now on what was important and she'd be damned if anyone could deceive her from that focus again.

Briar Wilthorne · Date: 2009-10-05 06:23 EST

Moon called and fever driven. The Coyote well would know the fever but the call of the moon only would beckon her through the pack. That in itself would lead the Alpha female to become a wicked temptation. Everything from before seemed distant, as if never something that ever impacted or caused ripples within the peace of the pack.

Pack. She stirred within that pile of limbs where they all had collapsed in their caverns. The Coyote ever would remain close to where Red was, naked flesh pressed warmly to his as chartreuse depths moved over the slumbering pack. New blood had been brought in, the pup she had not even found the name of securely at the kitten's side. Moon Runner and Scales still the familiar in their own rest. Rest of course. Coyote grin flashed against the shoulder of her mate as she looked to Scales. Her never would really sleep.

As it had been before, flesh or fur... scales or claws it mattered not to the Coyote. The pack was a motley bunch but a pack that worked. There was even the Snow that had prowled into their territory and the Blue.

The Blue. Limbs stretched long and languid as she thought on the Maltese that had sent the Coyote to play a game, piece together a strange puzzle. On the water smoothed rock the scent seemed to die away but she knew it was not gone. The Blue was there and the game was yet to end.

The Coyote would know that much, yet in the bliss of pack and the promising allure of the warm bodies she gave in to sleep again. Thoughts fading as her body moved till some part of her was in physical contact with all her pack.

Briar would always have the nature of the beast, the way of the animal in her spirit and her blood. Naked flesh was nothing to her, came natural to her. Lips twitched as she closed her eyes and fell into that persuasion of slumber, knowing well it seemed her pack had no protests for that very notion.

Come the waking it seemed she'd have to take time to know the pup. At least to discover his name and present him to Godric for additional approval.

Long live the pack indeed.

Briar Wilthorne · Date: 2009-10-06 06:14 EST

There was no question that the pack was growing. It brought a wild bit of comfort to the Coyote that was unexpected. The Moon Fever was ever something she would enjoy to watch run rampant through her pack.

She almost had lost herself to that game of Cat and Coyote, putting together a puzzle she had yet to understand but still there was the intrigue. Fortunate enough that the Saurian had followed, summoned her back home to remind the Trickster where she should be.

Now on the hunt with Godric there was no confusion of where she belonged. Chest and womb smeared with his bloody handprints where he had offered his blood for her, for their future. Again those claws had sank into his flesh, reclaiming him as mate.

Godric would take the lead and hunt beside her. Ever a pair that knew the thoughts of the other he left her to complete her own kill of the wild boar that had found his way snuffing through the underbrush. The Coyote still had to prove there was no weakness in spirit or body no matter what came to pass.

She knew soon enough come a few passing seasons others would have to hunt for her, which would take some getting used to. Tonight though the hunt was theirs. The mates shared the kills as the moon painted them near savage deities coated in the blood of the hunt.

There were otherways to appease a beast, and for that night the Coyote found it in so many ways with Godric how to sate its hunger.

Mihaela · Date: 2009-10-06 08:52 EST

The night of the run had ended in a pleasant tangle of limbs. She had shed her leather just to feel that closeness to her pard. Yes, the cat was stubborn enough to still call it like she saw it. Not a bad thing considering.

It felt like home to her. She had been weary to her soul with the thought of not being so close to anyone. Now she had more kin than she cared to count. In that pile of limb as she roused from slumber, one thing stood out.

How attached she was to the Pup in the short time she knew him. A gentle hand soothed through his unruly mop of hair. He was so beautiful in his own way. She never thought she could find someone that called to her like he did.

Those eyes closed as she thought about it. He was young, inexperienced and brash... And that endeared him to her. He had been alone for so long without others of his kind. Other lycan's and shifters...

She had pulled herself out of the pile slowly and grabbed her leathers. She had needed to hunt alone and think on things. The solitary run soothed her spirit even further and her thoughts still turned to the Pup. Even as she sprawled on a nearby rock to sun herself and think, her thoughts still turned to him.

Tyler slowly woke, with a languid stretch and a soft moan. The sun was shining brightly and reflected off of the pool. Sitting up, he spotted Miheala and the memories of the run from the night before came flooding back. As he sat up and ran his hands through his hair to push it out of his face, he smiled. "Hey" He called out to her. She smiled and waved him over.

He got up from the bed of pelts and quietly walked over, so as to not wake the others. Oblivious to the fact that he was still nude, not that he'd care anyway. He lowered himself down to sit beside her. "Last night.." he tilted his head so to catch the rays of the sun on his face. There were no words that could express what he was feeling inside.

She smiled at him, "It was the perfect night."

"It was."He nodded, agreeing wholeheartedly. "Never had a family before."

She purred softly, "And now you have more than you know what to do with."

Folding his hands in his lap, he turned to look at her. "Thank you, for that."

She looked over at him, "You are welcome."

"I'm not sure where I fit in." he shrugged, with a sheepish grin. "I just know that I do."

"It'll take time. The only four defined roles are me, Scales, Briar and Godric."

"Godric wasn't there last night." He mused, not a question.

She nodded, "Not until we rested. The Red headed male that the Coyote curled with."

"Oh. The pretty one." Which was he referring to? Both.

She chuckled, "Oh really?"

"Pretty, yes. Both of them." He nodded with a smile. His eyes travelled over her. "But aren't we all beautiful?"

She murmured softly, noting his gaze, "That we all are." The smile on her lips is inviting.

That smile and the murmur pulled him towards her until his lips hovered just above hers. "Especially you."

A delicate seeming hand caressed along his jaw drawing him closer. Their lips met in a soft kiss at first. He held his breath as her hand touched his face and his eyes closed to that brief, soft, first kiss. Slowly he leaned back and sky blue eyes opened. As he searched her face, his smile grew.

Those jade were warm and smiling with the curve of her lips. "(vq) I will see if permission can be had."

"Permission?" his brows knitted in confusion as he sat back.

"The way of the pack. I want more than a moments pleasure, Tyler. But the Alpha has to say if that is allowed."

"Oh." he nodded as she started to speak. He folded his legs, Indian style, and rested his forearms on his knees. And as she finished, big blue eyes stared at her as he grinned broadly. "Oh. with me? Really?"

That black mane of hers is brushed back, "Hrmm yes."

Tyler just sat there with a stunned grin on his face. Never had anything felt more natural and easy in his life. Dating had been a nightmare for him, and now, all of that awkwardness was eliminated. He realized what his mistake had been. He'd been dating outside of his kind. A realization sunk in and his smile turned to one of curiosity. "We can't have babies though, right?"

A hand reached out at touch his, "It will be possible. Just more difficult."

His fingers curled around her hand and he gazed into her eyes. "I don't want to make things difficult for you. I've just found you. I don't know what I'd do without you."

She tightened her fingers around his, "One day at a time, Tyler. First, you will need to be presented to the Ulfric."

He nodded slowly and turned to stare out at the pool of water. He was young and impetuous, even in his human form. "The sooner the better." He grinned, lacing his fingers with hers.

She laughed softly and drew him into a quick embrace, "Yes. The sooner the better."

Godric · Date: 2009-10-07 08:46 EST

The pup. Tyler. Had been brought to the attention of the Alphas. Godric of course allowed Briar to speak on it first whispering into her ear about the fact that the kitten deserved to have one of her own. It didn?t mean Godric would take responsibility for the pup. His point was made when he expressly spoke to Mihaela.

?And you will take responsibility for this one? Ones as young as he is tend to forget their place quickly. Ill not have any of that.?

When Mihaela agreed that the pup was her responsibility he would smile and bow his head. A hand reached and cupped onto the pups shoulder. Amber pools shifting down to the young man and took him in. Strong of back and body. The pup would serve first as an omega. In Godric?s eyes that was his role. Obidient and behaved. His mouth curving into a smile he peered for marking from the kitten and smirked.

?You may want to mark this one. If he gets lost you?ll be sure someone will return him safely.?

Godric would bend about waist and press his cheek against the boy?s cheek rubbing. Stubble probably would be sort of rough against his skin, but Godric had marked Tyler as friend. A kiss pressed then to the forehead of the kitten. Whispering softly he half teased her.

?I told you it would only be a matter of time before you found one suitable for you. This one will be a handful. But if anyone deserves a spry mate it is certainly you.?

A waggle of brows and he was walking to grab a hold of his Coyote. He had much to discuss with the woman he loved. Cats, Dogs, Prairie Dogs, Lizards. It was all growing to be something wonderful and fantastic. His hands cupping hips he would lift his mate and bring her to bed. He may be moon drunk and half insane with the time of year. But this was his time with his mate. And he wouldn?t miss an instant of it.

Amber Vanlaer · Date: 2009-10-07 10:55 EST

Moon Runner drank in the ceremony of the pup's acceptance fondly, her throat a gentle rumble throughout the entirety of the Alpha's blessings. Warnings of responsibility came with fresh blood, but then again, so did joy. Always apart from and a part of, Amber gave her own nuzzle of approval to the addition turned union.

Not Alpha, not Omega, perhaps closer to Beta; but ever a comfortable blend all her own.

Kitten and Tyler, the pup. A nuzzle, then, for the sleek, black panther and her new male; the press of an all too-human nose to that scent hovel behind the crook of ear and neck.

Acceptance and joy.

A grin far too cheshire to splay across the lush tiers of a wolf in woman's form took hold. Still half crazed from the pair of honey moons fading in the night skies of Rhydin, Amber could only shake her head, musing her happiness quietly. The pack was coming together more and more, and if her sensitive senses were anything to bet by, the she wolf was placing all odds on another new addition to their ragtag family.

Born blood, not found.

Suspicions were not hers to make known aloud, if a feral creature was not keen enough to pick up the beginning swirl of life within the womb, or did not have the nose for such things, who was the she wolf to speak?

Let the pack keep their secrets, and she would continue to keep her own.

Later that night, fingers fell, traipsing the expanse of her empty belly and it's minute, concave nature. Family, pups, pack; these were things in a time long left behind she might have dreamt of, remembering times when pain and disarray weren't a part of her vibrant life back with the Old Pack. Visions came unwarranted, left behind faces of those she both coveted and hated most. Familiy shared moon hues, the growling comfort of maternal and paternal figures, the nuzzle and press of litter mates; all missed. The hungry eyes, the knowing, proud smirks of tee-too-tallers seeking things they desired, but would fail to tame; all never to be missed.

A torrid of emotions warred, snarling a dark mess in the sweet syrup of her head. Conflicted and bitter, Amber peeled back, crying a wolf's wail to the clouded sky in her lone mask within the forest.

Kick away the dregs of the past, sweet Moon Runner, and embrace the now.

Briar Wilthorne · Date: 2009-10-07 18:22 EST

Love and Lust. Affection and Devotion. Want and Need. All were wrapped up in the presence of the Red to the Coyote. The growth of the pack was something pleasing from the once solitaire.

Even if there were secrets, all in due time would the pack learn to trust each other and come forth with their confessions. She knew that the Moon Runner kept her distance for such a reason. Knew that the kitten had found her comfort and place with the pup. Just as she knew that the Saurian would watch over them all, and bring the Coyote home when something more savage called to her blood.

Laying there coiled with Godric, his blood on her flesh to mark heart and womb she had nothing but memories to mull over. So much had changed.The Coyote for so long had been near a solitaire hunter, only entrusting the hunt and kill with Dillon at her side. Besides that no one got in or through to the Trickster.

Till Godric.

A simple game of strip poker and all that consumed her thoughts was the Red. His carefree indifference to the fact if she wanted him naked she would not play a game for it... only to have him shed his clothes before her.

She had made no advances, assuming the Red and the Sin came as one. Red Sin.

Still the image of him lingered in her mind even after that, became more of a steadfast vision in her mind and spirit after they had mated.

The Red now all but consumed her since they had marked each other. Body, Mind, Heart, Spirit. All belonged to him.

Their legacy lived on. Their hope. The promise of a future and a family born in blood rather then by call of the wild as forged pack existed within her womb.

Fingers curled in his hair and she whispered those quiet confessions of affection and devotion that were ever and only meant for his ears. Words of Love that would not fade.

She was his. No matter the setting or the price to be paid. The Coyote would ever belong to the Red.

Topic: The Power in Dominance, the Etiquette in Submission (18+)

Briar Wilthorne

Briar Wilthorne

Mihaela

Briar Wilthorne

Godric

Briar Wilthorne

Godric

Briar Wilthorne

Mihaela

Amber Vanlaer

Briar Wilthorne

Godric

Briar Wilthorne

Amber Vanlaer

Mihaela

Briar Wilthorne

Briar Wilthorne

Godric

Amber Vanlaer

Briar Wilthorne

Godric

Briar Wilthorne

Godric

Mihaela

Briar Wilthorne

Linaeve

Briar Wilthorne

Amber Vanlaer

Briar Wilthorne

Briar Wilthorne

Briar Wilthorne

Mihaela

Godric

Amber Vanlaer

Briar Wilthorne