Megs Writes Stuff [Read Only][Image Heavy] - Printable Version

+- alonimi (https://alonimi.net)
+-- Forum: Out of Character (https://alonimi.net/forumdisplay.php?fid=68)
+--- Forum: The Repository (https://alonimi.net/forumdisplay.php?fid=76)
+--- Thread: Megs Writes Stuff [Read Only][Image Heavy] (/showthread.php?tid=513)

---

RE: Megs Writes Stuff [Read Only] - megs - 01-07-2017




Name: Lace Maryanne Bellfleur-Harding
Setting: Contemporary - Valesport -OU

Captain of the Paranormal Division of the Valesport Police Department. Resident cryptozoologist. Supernatural K9 Handler (One Hellhound known a Sabre and one Gabriel Hound known as Blitz).


Name: Daryl Matthew Schiner
Setting: Contemporary - Valesport - OU

Detective with the Paranormal Division of the Valesport Police Department. His skills as a medium make him very desired among the department even though his personality does not. Grayson pretty much hates him.


Name: Basant
Location: Contemporary - Valesport - OU
Second in command and adviser to Lakshmi. In the midst of planning a coup and take over the Tendu'e Muna Werelopard Pard.


Name: Primrose
Location: Veridian - Love & War AU


Name: Nathaniel Joseph Bellvue
Location: Contemporary - Valesport - OU
Grayson's shit ass husband. They have been married for five years, currently separated.


Situated in Winter Haven, CO near the CAF main base, this house was originally owned by Owen Hart. He and Julianna raised their children and lived her for many years. After his death, Julianna and the children were forced from their home after it was seized by the CAF after Owen was charged with treason.


Cain and Akiko's brownstone located in Boston, MA.


Darkwillow Royal Palace located in Port Berdea, Eryra in the Veridian Isles. The main home of the Queen and the royal family.


Kingdom College of Magical Arts located in Macrilan of the Veridian Isles. Funded by Elliot Wilder and Headed by Darcias Englos.


The Wilder Duchy located in Laine of the Veridian Isles.


The Covenant of Allied Forces main base of international operations. Located in Winter Haven, CO. Winter Haven is a Federal District, similar to Washington D.C. under the CAFs regulation.


CEO Owen's penthouse located in Washington, D.C in Whisky Sour.

Julianna's Whisky Bar, Hopscotch located in Washington, D.C. in Whisky Sour. The mascot is a jackalope and if that ain't the cutest shit come at me.



Make/Model: Chevrolet Corvette Stingray

Owned by Julianna, but eventually sort of commandeered by her husband. A replacement of the one she originally owned, which Owen totaled on a mission. They share a deep affection for the vehicle.

Make/Model: Audi Q5

Purchased as a substitute for the Corvette by Julianna, since it is very difficult to get a car seat in the back of a sports car.

Make/Model: Cadillac Escalade

An armored vehicle assigned to Owen by the CAF following the events of the accident that lead to his dismissal from active duty. He fucking hates it.

Make/Model: 1966 Shelby GT 350

Cain's car. Purchased for him by his father when he turned 16 and earned his license, despite protestations from his mother. Owen and Holland reworked the vehicle to be safer by modern standards, and Julianna eventually gave up.

Make/Model: Jaguar XJ

PR Manager's Jules' car in Public Relations.

Make/Model: Maserati Gran Turismo Sport

CEO Owen Hart's car in Whisky Sour. Julianna is in love with it.

Make/Mode: Ferrari California.

Brigadier General Owen Hart's car in Public Relations that he lost to his ex-wife Sophia in their divorce. Sophia sets the car on fire after a row with Owen and buys a new one in orange just to piss him off.

---

RE: Megs Writes Stuff [Read Only] - megs - 01-08-2017


Veridian
Demonym: Veridian
Government: Monarchy; Queen Julianna Maxillion
Capital: Luse
Biome: Chapparal; hot and dry with a definitive rainy season in the winter.

Eskra
Government: Empire; Emperor Owen Hartwydt
Demonym: Eskran
Capital: Roathe
Biome: Taiga; low annual temperatures and permanent ice caps.

Delanveaux
Government: Monarchy - King Marquise de Vois

Demonym: Delan
Capital: Papillon
Biome: Mediterranean Chapparal; Hot and dry summers, cool and moist winters. Moderate amounts of rain and mil temperatures

Kelmont
Government: Monarchy - King Allen Marskon
Demonym: Kelmontian
Capital: Birchton
Biome: Temperate Deciduous Forest; distinct seasonal temperature variation.

Kingsmoor
Government: Sultanate - Sultan Osmond I
Demonym: Moorish
Capital: Zendyre
Biome: Tropical Rainforest; Hot and humid with a definitive rainy season in the summer.

---

RE: Megs Writes Stuff [Read Only][Image Heavy] - megs - 05-17-2017

---

RE: Megs Writes Stuff [Read Only][Image Heavy] - megs - 05-25-2017

---

RE: Megs Writes Stuff [Read Only][Image Heavy] - megs - 08-01-2018


Post Transformation - Morning of the Waning Gibbous

Aphrodite woke up, suddenly, with a deep inhale of air. Her lungs and senses were filled with the scent of wet dirt, broken leaves and the faintest bit of musk. The smell that lingers on a fur coat. She was naked, and the aches in every bone in her body, alerted her that she post transformation. The full moon was over. She knew the pain wouldn’t pass, the reshaping of her entire body was not an easy thing for it to go through. Even though she sat up slowly, she got vertigo. And then nausea. She turned her head, dropping back on to one elbow and vomited on to the forest floor. She closed her eyes, as the contents of her stomach emptied and she was left dry heaving bile. Aphrodite pushed away from the ground, and the mess. Refusing to look at the unsanitary display of whatever the leopard had consumed.

She was covered in dirt and sweat. Her hair stuck to her forehead and her back in wet strands. Standing on shaking legs, she could hear joints cracking as if they still hadn’t quite settled into place.

It wasn’t quite late enough in the morning for the first light of the day to guide her journey back to her car. It was still just the moon, and while it no longer held a thrall over her, she still felt like it was mocking her in some way. Shining large and bright. It’s face grinning down at her.

There was a line of cars on the edge of the forest. They belonged to other members of her pack, most of which were likely still running wild, or getting their bearings back. As an alpha she was usually the first to return to human form. Aphrodite opened the trunk. She put on an oversized t-shirt and a pair of cotton shorts that she had tucked within. She didn’t bother with shoes. Her current location was a rumored wereanimal roaming ground, so she didn’t need to worry about a wayward stranger witnessing a dirt-covered and naked blond woman emerging from the trees. She slid in the to driver’s seat, with audible protest from her body. She ignored it, and pulled her phone and keys out of the glovebox. It wasn’t the greatest idea to leave her car unlocked, perhaps, but she couldn’t exactly carry her keys on her. The blueish light from the device light up her face, and advertised that it was 4:34AM. There was a text from her husband. He had said that he loved her, and that he hoped she was safe.

>I love you, too.

She text him back, knowing that he was probably asleep.

First, she drove to a motel. It was close to the woods, and she didn’t need anything fancy. They also didn’t ask their clientele why they were covered in dirt and other indistinguishable grime. Aphrodite took a cold shower, using products that she traveled with. Her favorite shampoo that smelled like gardenias, and minty bar of soap that helped with the ache she felt all over. She scrubbed, and shampooed and scrubbed and shampooed until the water ran clear and her skin was tinged red with her efforts. She used all the towels to dry herself off. She left her still damp hair down, changed into new, clean clothes, and threw the old ones away.

She drove home.

The clock on her dash read 6:20 when she pulled into the garage. Aphrodite was exhausted. She wanted to sleep for the next twenty hours, but her day was just beginning. She was the clock turn over to 6:21, she inhaled deeply and when she exhaled her signature cheerful smile appeared on her features.

Getting her husband and daughter together in the morning always presented unique challenges. Rose had most certainly lost something important that she needed for school, and helping Holland choose an outfit for the day could take any variable length of time. Rose didn’t eat breakfast with them anymore, choosing to leave with her friends early and get coffee before school. That morning she had only been missing a textbook that had been left in Holland’s car. Sending her on her way had gone off without a hitch, and now Aphrodite found herself back in her bedroom. She was till, however, not asleep. She had changed, again, already wearing an orange, white and black harlequin patterned circle skirt and orange blouse. She had styled her hair perfectly while Holland had showered, and now they were working on his outfit.

“I think you should take the day off,” he had commented, rejecting another shirt. He handed it off to her and she hung it back up.

“I’m fine, love,” she chimed pleasantly, choosing another article for him to try.

“I just think-”

“I really don’t want to miss this presentation,” she interrupted, and he didn’t press the issue further. He shook his head at the shirt she held and she put it back. She was starving. Eventually Holland was dressed for the day and he made them breakfast. After cleaning up they left for work.

Morning of the Last Quarter - Three Weeks Until the Full Moon

Zebra Cakes.

When Aphrodite woke up the first thing on her mind was Zebra Cakes. She knew there wouldn’t be any in the house, because Holland didn’t like it when she ate junky snack foods. It was a Saturday. No school, no work, but still Dite found herself getting up early because she was Zebra Cakes. She was still exhausted.

“Where are you going?” Holland inquired, voice groggy with sleep from the bed when she got out of it.
“I’m going to run to the convenience store,” she explained, pulling on a pair of jeans.

She heard one of his hands audibly slap the comforter. She could see his movements in the dim light that filtered through the curtains. “What for?”

“I want snacks.” She put on one of Holland’s faded band shirts and tied her hair in a ponytail.

“Snacks,” he repeated.

“Yeah. Snacks,” she snapped at him this time. Not liking his tone or the way he was questioning her.

There was a sharp inhale from his space in the bed. As he woke up more, he began to realize just exactly what was happening. “You want Zebra Cakes.” He sat up on his elbows, and observed his wife standing in the half-light from across the room.

“Yeah,” she said, her voice suddenly thick, like she was about to cry. Overcome with some great and inexplicable emotion. Holland was out of bed at the sound of that voice. Crossing the room to hover, concerned and sympathetic, over her.

The telltale signs of PMS. Only two days after the full moon.

Holland got dressed as well, and took Aphrodite to the store, where she bought Zebra Cakes, and other treats to satisfy her premenstrual cravings.He didn’t make any comments about how he didn’t like when she ate mostly salt and vinegar chips and cosmic brownies. He took her home and let her veg on the couch with her sugared horde and watch Pride and Prejudice twice on Netflix.

He made Aphrodite her favorite dinner without asking if she wanted it. Shepherd's Pie with seasoned lamb, stewed vegetable and topped with mashed potatoes and melted cheese. She cried while she ate it (on the couch which he would not normally let her do) because it reminded her of home.

With a kiss to the forehead and a heating pad for her cramps, Holland put her to bed with her tablet with her favorite scientific journals pre-loaded. He promised to join her in a few hours.

New Moon - Two Weeks Until The Full Moon

Aphrodite stared down at the blood-stained water that mingled in the toilet. She’d woken up a mess. Her panties and her thighs stained red, and tacky. Luckily she hadn’t bled through her pajama shorts, but that wouldn’t stop her from stripping the bed anyway, to save Holland the trouble.

Already, she could feel cramps twisting low in her belly, as if just knowing she was menstruating was enough to set them off. How cruel, she thought to herself, meant to suffer through this when she couldn’t even carry children.

Aphrodite had never felt like the universe had been particularly fair to her.

First Quarter - One Week Until the Full Moon

Aphrodite and Sanders were fighting again.

He had invited her over to help Akiko with something, and somehow that had turned into them bickering in the kitchen. She couldn’t remember what started it. She felt like the days between the end of her period and the full moon were an emotional haze where she often spoke before she thought.

Sanders was chewing her out about something, reminding her again and again of the history that he wouldn’t let go. She snapped at him, she couldn’t hear what she said, but his face when neutral in such a way that revealed that she had hit a nerve.

“Wow.” He rolled his eyes. “Holland must be rubbing off on you.”

Aphrodite narrowed her eyes at him, and it took entirely too much willpower not to bare her teeth. She didn’t know what she meant, but she knew it was an insult upon her husband. “Excuse me?”

“You never used to be so negative.” He sighed and shook his head as if this supposedly new development of her character was disappointing to him. “Holland is really bringing out a whole new side of you.”

There was a tightness in her shoulders that advertised how her anger had reached a boiling point. She shouldn’t have come to the ranch. Another day wasted with regret for driving all the way out there at his suggestion. She inhaled slowly as her mind raced, searching the fog for the proper response. “This is just me. You don’t get the benefit of pretending otherwise, anymore. You’re being an asshole.”

“So, now I'm in trouble for not having read your mind before? How was I supposed to know since you were ‘pretending’?”

Fuck. Fuck. No, that wasn’t it. She had fucked up. Or he has twisted her words, she wasn’t sure which right now. “No. Forget it. I misspoke. I’m not going to argue with you.”

Sanders threw up his hands, and his expression darkened. “No. I want to know why you said you weren’t yourself with me.”

Aphrodite lifted her own hands as if she would run them through her hair, but remembered at the last moment that it would ruin the style. She growled, frustrated, as fingers curled into fists near her head and she dropped her hands again. “Because I don’t feel like I’m myself with anyone! Don’t try to blame Holland because you piss me off sometimes.”

He scoffed at her, turning his face away and rounding a small circle in the kitchen. With his hands on his hips he looked like a disgruntled cowboy right of the movies. “So, what? I never knew you.”

“No, that’s not what I meant! I just. This is why I don’t want to talk about this. I said something I didn’t mean because I was mad.”

“It’s fine. I understand.”

Aphrodite left knowing that he didn’t understand. A conversation salvaged but not resolved, because she had lied to him.

Sanders didn’t know her. That is exactly what she had meant.

Waxing Gibbous - Two Days before the Moon

“Are you feeling alright?”

She heard him, but she didn’t answer him. Or she thought she had answered him. Aphrodite and Holland sat at the table together having breakfast.

“Aphrodite?”

“Hm?”

“Are you feeling alright.”

Finally pulled out of her reverie, violet eyes shifted to look at him. Untouched waffles were on a plate in front of her, and she figured her tea was cold by now. “Yeah,” she lied, picking up her fork. “I’m fine. Just zoned out, I guess.” She forced a smile, cutting into the cakes.

Her senses were all on fire. Her skin felt too small to contain her. There was a painful itch down her spine. The change was oncoming, and it was in these moments she felt most that she and the leopard were two separate entities. It was trying to claw its way out of her right now.

By the time they returned home from work Aphrodite was all but feral. Her hair was in disarray, her shirt untucked from her skirt. She he kicked off her shoes and was curled up on the passenger seat of Holland’s Jeep. Her knees were tucked near her chin, and she gnawed at her nails, running her pastel pink manicure. They drove in silence, because Holland knew there wasn’t anything he could say or do for her. He knew this was just an unavoidable part of everything.

The car barely came to a stop in the garage and Aphrodite was already opening the door and all but falling out of it. Rose wasn’t home yet, having gone to a movie with her theatre friends. Giving Aphrodite a few hours to collect herself. A trail of clothing marked her departure to their bedroom. She found the garments irritating on sensitive skin that felt like it wanted to burst.

Holland picked them up silently, and without complaint. This he could do for her. It was nearly all he could right now. She so often took care of and accommodated him, he could manage to do this.

Clothing was discarded in the hamper, and he gazed over to where his wife was a miserable tangle of blankets and limbs in the bed. He moved towards her, gently placing a hand on one of her calves that was sticking out of the sheets. There was a rumbling growl from the pile. Holland only sighed, and sat down on the edge of the bed.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

He stood and moved around the bed, pulling the blankets back so he could hear her better.

“I’m sorry,” she repeated, gazing up at him with glassy eyes. “I’m sorry that I’m like this.”

Holland pet her hair, pushing we strands away from her forehead.

“I’m sorry you love a monster.”

---

RE: Megs Writes Stuff [Read Only][Image Heavy] - megs - 09-04-2019

Some unedited musings on everyone's favorite grumpy general

There was a knock on his door in the middle of the night.

Darcy was not surprised to see a grinning redhead, peering at him with piercing green eyes through the crack he made in the door to investigate. “It’s late,” he observed, opening the door, but blocking most of the entryway with his body.

“Indeed,” Ishara agreed, as she stepped over the threshold, forcing him to move out of her way or let her crash into him. How easy it was for her to command him without saying anything at all. He closed the door behind her, turning to watch as she took off her coat and draped it on one of the hooks available for such things.

“Where does your husband think you are?” His disapproving tone was more about her travelling at night, alone, and less that she had to lie to her husband- his best friend- to do so.

Using both hands, Ishara pushed long waves of fiery hair behind her shoulders. She sighed, clearly content to be out of the cold. She didn’t answer him immediately, rearranging her clothing as she moved into the kitchen. Darcy followed her. “Ishara,” he pressed his line of questioning as he stared at her from across his kitchen island. She was doing a marvelous job of making herself comfortable. She hummed as she moved around his kitchen with almost intimate knowledge.

She continued to hum an unfamiliar melody as she took a wine glass for herself out of one of the cabinets. She sorted through his selection of Veridian spirits for just a moment before selecting her favorite. A mango champagne that she didn’t seem to care was meant to be for special occasions. Darcy watched her struggle with the cork with a neutral expression. It eventually gave way with a satisfying pop and she poured the light amber liquid into her glass.

Darcy opened his mouth to repeat his question for the third, and final time before he got irritated, and that was when she answered him. “The herbalist,” she said loftily, before taking a sip of the drink. “Victoria has a small cold and I told him I needed more Meadowsweet.” She took note of Darcy’s alarmed look over the rim of her glass; concerned that she would be visiting him instead of gathering remedies for her feverish child. “Worry not,” she seemed to playfully chide him. “I gave Victoria the last of it before he came home, she will be fine.”

His expression became neutral once more. They stared at each other in silence as Ishara sipped his fruity champagne. She continued to watch him even as she poured another glass. He didn’t fidget under the weight of her gaze, but he wanted to. What was the challenge here? What did she want from him? He opened his mouth to ask, and she spoke up. She was always doing that. Not quite interrupting him.

“Couldn’t you just imagine it,” she said, sighing dreamily. He frowned, but waited for her to continue. “Me, just lounging in the sand in a cute bathing suit on that beautiful island of yours. I’ve only seen pictures, but I bet it’s just to die for.” She was looking at him with a completely straight face, despite this whimsical train of thought.

Darcy’s face softened. “Of course I can.” His response wasn’t much more than a murmur. “I think about it all the time.”

The glass she was holding met the granite of his kitchen island with a sharp clink. “I’m sure you fucking do.” Her voice had suddenly turned to ice.

“Why did you come here?” Darcy shot back, a sudden burst of emotion. He pushed his hands through his hair. “Do you just enjoy coming over here and reminding me of what I don’t have?” He dropped his hands, and rounded the island to stalk towards her. Ishara frowned and back away from his approach. He wouldn’t hurt her, she knew that, but he was not above menacing.

Ishara attempted to scurry away from him, but she wasn’t out of his reach. He grabbed her by her upper arm, just enough to pull her towards him and push her back up against the wall. He pressed his hands against the wall, on either side of her head and leaned down to be eye level with her. Effectively trapping her in the space between their bodies. “You chose to marry my best friend over me, and you come here in the middle of the night and act like it’s my fault.” He dipped his face closer to hers, leaning hard against the wall. Knuckles turning white with the effort.

She was trembling. Not because she was frightened of him, but because she was angry. Frustrated, and admittedly aroused. He was so close, she could feel the warmth of his body, smell the fading remnants of his cologne. “You didn’t give me a choice.” She pushed the words from between clenched teeth. “You didn’t give me a choice!” She yelled it this time. “You ran off to the Isles and left me to...to...I don’t even know what I was supposed to do!” She wasn’t crying, but her eyes shined with tears. “You were just gone one day.”

Amber eyes bored into green. He exhaled sharply through his nose and pushed away from the wall. He stared down his nose at her, neutral again. “I left for you.” His tone implied that this information should have been obvious. “I wrote to you. I told you where I was. I told you what I was doing. I went home, Ishara. For you. To beg the Veridian nation to take me back. To offer me sanctuary from deserting the CAF. I had to ask my queen to abandon the mission she gave me, for you.”

Darcy ruffled his hair again, propping both hands on his head. He gazed down at her, almost in disbelief that she was making him say this. Dredging up all this painful shit, because she was unhappy with the choice she had made.

“You didn’t. Write. To me.” Her voice was clipped and tight. Staccato with the tears she still wasn’t shedding.

“I did. Almost every day.”

“I didn’t get any letters!” She pushed away from the wall and stood next to him again. “I wrote to you!” She insisted. “Didn’t you get any of my letters?”

This was admittedly the first time they were speaking about what had happened when he had taken his leave from the CAF to return home to make a place for her. For them. It had gone miserably, of course, because as far as he knew she had chosen Renly. He had tried and failed to distance himself from Ishara. Though nagging questions had always annoyed him at the back of his mind he had never bothered to ask her. Never bothered to find out what had happened between the woman he loved and his best friend to lead her to choosing another man over him.

Did she love him? He never bothered to ask. Darcy imagined she had to love Renly in some small way. Why else did she stay? Why else would she keep having his children? Their fourth child had just recently turned six. The oldest was almost twenty. Almost twenty years she had been out of his reach and yet they still had these foolish arguments with one another.

“No,” Darcy said, finally. Having dove into his own thoughts for a moment. “The only letter I received from was the one to tell me that you weren’t waiting. That you were marrying Renly and leaving for the United States!”

That’s exactly what she did of course, and here they were. Both stuck in Colorado, both still under the CAF’s thumb.

“That’s impossible! I gave Renly all my letters to send to you!”

A silence stretched between them so dense the drop of a pin would have echoed. They stared at each other.

“Renly?” he asked, and Ishara nodded in response. “Renly would have had to give my letters to you…”

Darcy was filled with a sudden rage. Ishara gasped as if coming to the same realization. Renly had played both of them for fools. Dozens of letters diverted by his selfish and underhanded friend. Darcy cursed in Veridian and slammed his hand down on the kitchen island. “That son of a bitch!” Darcy swept his arm forward. Papers and other various items he’d discarded there crashed to the floor. He exhaled a growl, as she clawed his fingers through his hair.

The mess didn’t make him feel better and when he looked over his shoulder at Ishara she was crying silently. Again, not because she was scared of him, but because they both knew now that they had been tricked.

“Fuck Renly,” Darcy growled as he crossed the room to where they had parted. This time when he backed her against the wall he grabbed her by the hips and lifted her up. Layers of skirts rode upwards as she locked her legs around his waist and crashed her mouth against his.

He made love to her twice before he allowed her to go home. It didn’t make up for the years that had been lost between them. They would lie through their teeth to Renly about where she had been all night. It wouldn’t be punishment enough for the things he had done.



“Ishara’s pregnant again.”

Darcy continued to stare straight ahead as Renly spoke. The other man laughed as he slid another beer across the bar to settle in front of Darcy. He sat down on the stool next to him.

“Can you believe that,” he continued and Darcy only grunted in response. He snatched the beer up off the counter and took a long swig. He could feel Renly’s eyes on him. The icy blues more cold and calculating to him now. Darcy grimaced, setting the bottle down because he didn’t prefer the dark beer that Renly always bought for them.

A pathetic sounding “congratulations,” was all he could manage.

“Yeah. Thanks, man.”

Renly was staring him down in such a way now that Darcy wondered if Renly knew that Darcy had been fucking his wife for a few months now.

Darcy wondered for a moment if the child could be his. He suppressed the smirk just the very idea prompted. He took another long swig of beer.



It was still raining when Darcy left the house. Victoria and Owen had finally fallen asleep together in his bed. It had been a struggle when the often woke up screaming or in tears. Visions of their mother’s mutilated body every time they closed their eyes.

He still wore his uniform. It was increasingly unclear if he own and other clothing. He tore into the woods behind his house. A man on a mission. “Julianna!” He shouted into the darkness. He his hair back away from his face. Scanning the woods in front of him. “Julianna!” He shouted again, because he knew she was nearby. He just knew that she would be stalking in some shadow like a macabre guardian angel.

“Darcy?”

He barely heard her over the rain. He whipped around to find her standing behind him, still have emerged in the shadow she had come out of. She was also soaked from the rain. Her curls hung heavy in her face, and her once bloodstained clothing ran pale pink. The dirty bandages on her arm had come undone, even he could see that the wound was open again.

Darcy didn’t care about any of that. He didn’t care how pathetic she looked. Didn’t care that she was still injured. He closed the distance between them and took her by the throat. “What are you doing here!” He demanded. Both of her hands held arm. Her mouth opened and closed but no sound came out. He didn’t know if he wanted an answer or if he just wanted to be done with her right there.

“You’re...going to...provoke it,” she managed to choke out.

He released her because he knew by ‘it’ she meant the very demon that had killed the love his life.

Julianna dropped to the ground, coughing and gasping for breath on all fours. He felt no pity for her in that moment. She sat back on her heels and looked up at him. Rain still fell in sheets. “I’m sorry!” She pleaded with him. “I didn’t know who she was!”

Darcy growled at her and bared his teeth. Her ears pinned backwards.

“Get out of here!” He screamed. “Don’t you come near me or my s- these children ever again!”


“I just want to check in on how they’re doing. I want to help.”

Darcy’s eyes made subtle saccades between the duel colored eyes of Kama Darkwillow.

“They’re traumatized. Their mother was killed in front of them.”

Kama shifted uneasily on his feet. “General Weatehrfare, I-”

“You want to help?” Darcy snarled at him. “Go find that sister of yours and throw her and that fucking demon into the deepest, darkest pit you can find.”


“Fuck off!”

Darcy glowered at the door slammed in his face. Owen was on the other side of it, incandescent over the ultimatum he had just been given. To transfer to the CAF academy or waste his youth away in some sort of juvenile detention classroom.

Victoria’s room was down the hall. He could still hear the sappy love songs she had blasting at full volume to smother her sobbing. Heartbroken over some boy. Darcy sighed, his head falling back in resgination as he scrubbed his hands over his face.

“I can’t do this on my own,” he said to no one. Or perhaps to to lover he had lost.

Renton was flirting with him again.

All baby blue eyes and tailored suits. Darcy didn't know what to do with him.

"It's just lunch," he cooed, standing entirely close and smiling entirely too enticingly.

"I'm busy," Darcy said, like he said every day.

Renton pouted with lips that looked entirely too kissable. "You're always busy."

"Yeah..." For a moment he looked regretful about the fact. "I am."

Darcy leaned back in his chair with one hand covering the bottom half of his face. He considered the woman standing in front of his desk with hard amber eyes. She didn’t say anything. She just stood there with her ears at attention. Hands folded neatly on top of her thighs, clad in grey wool pants that matched her blazer.

“I told you to stay away from my children,” he said finally. His hand dropped to his leg with an audible slap. Over the years he had started referring to Owen and Victoria as his children. It was easier that way, and not entirely wrong, even thought they were well into adulthood and capable of making decisions that he didn't agree with or necessarily care for.

Her ears dropped off either side of her head. “You did.”

His gaze didn’t leave her. “Yet, here you are.”

“It was a bit of an accident.”

“Juli-” he frowned at her. “Drusilla, Why did you accept this job?”

She looked thoughtful for a moment. Lips parted but she didn’t speak immediately. Her tail picked up a steady rhythm behind her knees. “I think…” she paused and her ears popped to attention. “I think...I think I would like very much for him to kill me.”

---