Customary Controversy

[ElliBleu]

[Just posted up quick so Teegs can look it over for me since I defer to her on all things vampiric. It's rough and icky and has another four page thing that comes before it but that's a whole 'nother story. Thanks much, Teeeeeeegers~!]

She'd fought vampiric royalty, more than once, and made it out alive. Granted Mason had often been holding back, maybe even playing, but Rielle could hold her own. She was prepared but cautious, for she had reason to fear this vampire clinging to the outskirts of his nocturnal society and his sanity. He'd attacked a Pack wolf without provocation, and was still under coven protection despite his recluse status and less-than-discreet existence. Rielle had lived with, if not within, the pack whose wolf he had attacked, and the dreadful mess he'd left Clayton in would haunt her for the rest of her days. It had been a week and still the house reeked of his blood, his werewolf body still struggled to heal. He could do little more than moan and force water down his abused throat

His father, the Alpha, had watched his bloody mess of a son with stony eyes, his other son at his side. They were tied; though mad and unable to control his rampant power, Camus was a vampire, and one net yet rejected his covens protection. Attacking him would be seen as a declaration of war on the coven, and their pack was too small to last long.

But she was not so bound, and so the vampires could not rightfully punish the Pack wolves if a rogue wolf had been his murderer. It could have been her home, her new family, but Rielle could not let the reckless danger continue to live- and hunt- so close to ones she now held very dear. Could not bear to let another beloved die even if it meant losing them herself. Over Clayton's blood and under the Moon she vowed to kill the vampire. It was heavy on her heart and Kyan, the other son, had protested. But she was not Pack, and so they could not command her. He'd taken her face between his hands and told her, "Find him, Rielle. Find him and kill him and make the bastard hurt for what he's done to Clayton, to the Pack." And he'd kissed her forehead, held her close until she had been certain she'd drown in his scent and heartbeat and lose all the will she had for this foolish hunt. "For what he's taken from you."

And so it was with a heart of melancholy and a head for retribution that she broke through the window of the decrepit cabin, the wooden shutters exploding to splinters before the impressive size of the she-wolf. The sudden intrusion of sunlight slowed the vampire down enough, pausing briefly to take in the hole in the wall and the massive tawny beast bearing down on him. He mustn't have fed since his run-in with Clayton, or Rielle was sure Camus would have had no trouble avoiding her bull-rush. With a jerky, unnatural motion he avoided having his throat torn out, but Rielle's canines found enough purchase in his upper arm to bring him to the floor.

Only those expecting werewolves kept silver ready, and Camus had been counting on politics keeping him safe. A knife bit into her side, but it lacked the agonizing burn of silver. A silver blade- she could smell Clayton's blood on it still- was embedded in a thick table across the room, and Rielle didn't intend to let him reach it. Bone crunched in her jaws, the vampires arm snapping between her teeth like a dry twig.

His free hand buried in the wolf's ruff, and Rielle only bit deeper as he pulled with inhuman strength to throw her off. With a sickening wet sound he succeeded; a chunk of muscle tearing free and leaving ligaments dangling, blood pouring from the gruesome new hollow. A chair broke against the wolf's ribs as she was hurled into it, only to be on her paws again within seconds. There was no time to acknowledge the pain, assess the damage. Nothing was broken enough to keep her from fighting yet. Camus seemed similarly unaffected by his mangled arm, shrieking furiously at Rielle with long, thin fangs displayed in rage. She snarled in return, fur bristling and making her look even more imposingly large. When he made a move towards her- and consequently the blade on the table behind - Rielle darted in low to wrap her muzzle around one of the vampire's thin ankles.

The knife bit into her again, just missing her spine before withdrawing and plunging in again to stick solidly in her flesh below the other wound. But she bit harder, feeling bone snap again and tissue tear, leaving the foot hanging grotesque and useless form the bottom of the vampire's deceptively thin leg. Blood streamed everywhere now, her own and the vampire's, and Rielle would have been sick if such fury and despair hadn't ruled her body and mind. The pain seemed not to bother the rabid vampire, but his body collapsed on the useless limb when he blindly continued to try for the weapon. He fell to the floor with another piercing shriek, tearing at Rielle's ears and face with his remaining hand as she closed in for the kill.

Sharp nails tore furrows in her muzzle and raked across an eye and vampiric fangs bit into one of her legs, but Rielle's fangs found their mark as broad paws pinned the vampire in place. The throatblood spurted, then gurgled as it met his opened windpipe. The smell and taste of it were the only things in Rielle's world as she kept her fangs closed and shook her head violently until Camus' neck snapped. Bloodlust built in the beast, coupled with the woman's anguish and anger and her teeth gnawed and tore. She didn't stop until the head rolled free of the body and blood no longer leaked from the yawning hole, damaged beyond any chance of repair.

Panting and dripping she stepped back and sank to her haunches, coated so thickly with vampire blood it was starting to seep through her fur. Even her nose had trouble finding her scent above the overwhelming stench of vampire blood. It was everywhere. The bloody pawprints she left on the way out would leave it no question as to what had killed Camus, but would leave the who a bit harder to deduce.

Not even off the front porch, Rielle paused and sat on the clean wood to leave some of her smell. She couldn't let there be any suspicion that one of the pack had done it, so let the vampires have her scent. She could never come back to this pack anyway, could never let it be known she had so nearly been one of them. With a whine she Changed, leaving a bloodspattered woman sitting alone on a cabin porch deep in the forested mountains. A brief revisit into the macabre cabin yielded a rough towel, and Rielle wiped the gore from her face and hands, tossing the towel carelessly aside.

Now having hands and joints that could bend to reach she pulled the persistent knife from her back with a small wince, flexing the muscles to make sure the wounds would drain before her body set about rapidly healing it. One eye refused to open and her shoulders ached with the shaking, but Rielle wept. Cried for the fear of what she had done, for the misery of what she had once again lost. When the weeping- if not the tears- ceased, Rielle stumbled to the encroaching vegetation and threw up, spitting out the taste of the blood.

And, as she had done many times before, she ran. The direction didn't matter as long as her feet didn't betray her back to the pack's territory. She stopped to wash at a stream, a wolf again, rolling in the sand and water to purge the blood from her fur. It was painfully, blissfully cold and she swallowed mouthfuls of it to settle her stomach and wash the blood and bile taste from her tongue. As she sat in the relative protection of a thick copse of brambles to dry, she turned her snout to the darkening sky and howled.

A thin, keening note that was answered by a far-off chorus that even her sharp ears could barely hear. It was a heavy song, thick with regret and gratitude that pulled agonizingly like a hook set deep in her chest. She didn't sing back, didn't even turn to look as she tried to ease the ache with distance. Rielle, knowing they would live- and so would she.

And that was enough.

[Admin]

[There are so many typos I"m crying. You don't state specifically, is the sunlight a threat to this vampire?] (If you don't mind, I'll post something I thought of in response, sort of, to this. If you don't like it, I'll of course take it down. I don't want to steal your post. <3<3<3)



Mason was signing paper after paper at her overly large desk. She was barely even reading the papers she was signing. It was all so boring. So mundane. And she was tired and losing her focus, if she had ever even had it for this task. She was staring at a candle, her hand signing of its own free will when Jasper cleared his throat at the door. He’d been standing there at attention for hours.

Her hand froze and her gaze snapped from the flickering candle flame to settle on the hulking frame of her personal guard. “You’re going to maybe want to read that writ before you sign it blindly, m’lady.” Mason blinked and glanced down at the paper. It was legal size. Glossy white with black letters inked on in an imposing and official looking font. Words here and there were bolded for affect.

She sat at this very desk doing this very thing five hundred years ago, though it was on a different continent. The legal size paper was rolls of parchment back then. Her elaborate ink pen was a quill of some kind. The official font would have been elegant handwriting nearly illegible to the modern American. And she probably would have read every word.

She read the writ in front of her now. Every word of it and her eyes widened when she read a name: Rielle. She reread the beginning of the writ. It detailed the murder of vampire of one of Mason’s lesser covens. It glossed over the details of that vampire, Camus’ relationship with the coven. And it made no mention of any provocation for the murder though also never stated outright that there was none. They would never lie to Mason. It told of the gruesome murder and how the killer made no effort to hide her identity. It told that through cursory investigation, they found the name of the attacker from the nearby wolf pack. It asked for her head.

After all this time, after all the effort expended not killing Rielle she had almost signed away her head on an uninformative writ of execution. The “wolf” in question was allied to no known pack and had run immediately. They needed her permission to carry out the desired punishment.

Suddenly worried about who else’s life she may have blindly signed away she shuffled through the pile of writs. She found one asking for permission to exterminate the local pack Rielle’s execution mentioned for “harboring” the “killer”. She had granted them permission. She held the signed write above the candle flame with one hand as she flicked through others with the other hand.

The paper caught fire from the candle and she saw Jasper’s lips twitch just a bit. It was the closest to a laugh he would allow himself. “The candle is more symbolic,” Mason muttered to him and to no one at the same time. To appease his ever so tiny sense of humor though, she balled Rielle’s execution order and held it in her flaming fist for a second before throwing it at her stoic guard. It fell short and they both stared at it on the floor before bringing their eyes back up. Jasper’s lips twitched a bit more.

[Admin]

[DOUBLE POST!!! But I'm allowed because I'm the admin. ^_^ So, I'm thinking this is probably a couple days after my last post and probably a little less than a week after yours?]

The House that had requested permission to execute the troublesome Rielle and destroy the local pack was less than pleased with Mason’s refusal. It was an outer House on the very northern edge of her power. They were likely to ignore any orders of hers that they didn’t like. Mason had known this inevitability when she had burned the writs yet she had done it anyway. She knew that rebellion in the outer Houses where her hold was already weak would drastically undermine her authority overall. She couldn’t afford to let that happen and yet she had done it anyway. For a wolf. A wolf she didn’t even like.

Damn Rielle for killing one of her vampires. Damn Rielle for putting her in this position. River was always trying to get Mason to look for the positive so she decided to see this as an opportunity to strengthen her power in the outer Houses. She was long overdue for a visit out there anyway.

Jasper protested, of course, as he always does every time Mason proposes to leave the safety of the mansion. He always shuts up, though, whenever she offers to leave him behind if he dislikes travel so much. Since this was to be an official, if surprise, visit, she had to travel in style. Normally Mason preferred to drive herself in some flashy, fast car or another but for this trip she was stuck in the back of her limousine. Jasper sat in the front no doubt treating the driver to stoic silence.

The limo pulled up to the House shortly before 2am to a large group of well-armed stares. They were clearly in the process of defying her orders. Jasper stepped out and took a seemingly passive stance as he leveled his intimidating gaze on the gathered hunting party. The driver opened Mason’s door and offered her his hand which she took and gracefully stepped out of her limo.

Even vamps who never thought they’d ever meet her knew what their leader looked like, and the weapons lowered as jaw dropped. Clearly she was unexpected. Most were even too shocked to mutter a curse. Mason’s response to the House’s defiance was swift and violence. She spent only the one day there cleaning up and left mid afternoon. The limo drove away from the House and into the sunlight glaring through the branches of the surrounding forest. With the window down and sunglasses on, Mason’s mind wandered as she gazed at the passing trees.

Most of the sights, sounds and smells flew by unnoticed but one smell was familiar. Mason’s head jerked abruptly up from where it was resting against the door. “Stop the car!” She could hear Jasper yelling at the driver as the limo screeched to a halt. He would prefer that her orders be ignored whene they’re random and weird like stopping in the middle of a forest.

Her driver stepped out to open her door but she was already out. Standing in the middle of an empty road, her hand son her hips, she peered through her sunglasses into the forest and whispered to no one in particular, “Where are you?”

Jasper suddenly filled her vision and she stepped back, raising one eyebrow. “My lady,” he began in the tone he used when trying to get her to stop doing something stupid and be logical. “We have a long drive ahead of us yet, we should continue on so that we may return shortly after dark.”

Sometimes that tone was justified but usually she hated it. It was the tone one would use on an ill-tempered child. Ill-tempered Mason may be, but she was queen of the most powerful vampire coven in the world and he would treat her like it, dammit. She took her sunglasses off and balled one hand into a fist.

“Then you had better get going,” she replied darkly. Now Jasper took a step back. He could tell that he’d angered her. Jasper was one of the best at dealing with Mason and predicting her reactions and moods but no one, not even Adrian could do it perfectly and Jasper wasn’t as good as Adrian. Jessica just ignored Mason’s moods which seemed to work best sometimes.

“My lady?” The driver said in question.

“Get back in the limo.” He obeyed but Jasper had yet to move. She wasn’t being specific but Jasper knew what she meant. Get in the car and drive off without her. He naturally had a big problem with that idea. Luckily for Mason, she outranked him. Mason outranked everyone.

“Highness,” Jasper began again in another version of the same patronizing tone.

Mason’s fist erupted in flames. “Get in the car and go, Jasper Alectose. Now.”

Mason almost never used Jasper’s last name. He took another step back, blinked, then bowed and went back to the open passenger side door. With a final look at Mason as she put her sunglasses back on, he stepped in the car and it sped away leaving Mason in the dust. Her driver wasn’t the bravest vampire she’d ever met but he was a good driver.

She watched her limo go. Driving fast, her home was five hours away. She had no idea how old the scent was she’d smelled from the car and no real idea why she wanted to follow it save she was angry with Rielle and wanted the wolf to know it. She sighed and dropped her head as she realized Jasper’s tone had been justified. With another sigh, she walked back up the road until she found the scent again and followed it into the woods at a run in her designer suit and heeled boots, her two thousand dollar sunglasses quite effectively shading her sensitive eyes.

After a half an hour of running through the woods, Mason came to a clearing bathed in sunlight and on the other end, she saw her quarry. The wolf was laying down. An afternoon nap in the sun. Mason could use one of those herself, she’d been up for over thirty hours now. Luckily the House had had something for her to eat.

The House hadn’t offered any more than a few vague details about Camus, the vampire that had been killed. They hadn’t given her any reason Rielle would have done it but Mason knew there would have been a reason. They’d taken her to Camus’ little house at her insistence. They hadn’t even bothered to clean poor boy up but scavengers weren’t too keen on vampire blood. It was mostly untouched. The body had been a mess. Rielle had been very angry to do what she did but it made it harder for Mason to deny their request. One what grounds does she say no, they had asked. She didn’t owe them an explanation, thankfully and so she had ignored the question but because of it, despite her visit, her hold on this House was still weak.

This was all Rielle’s fault and she’d found her. Mason grinned.

[ElliBleu]

Weariness had finally caught up with her. The sun had been up for several hours, though Rielle had lost track of the days. Didn’t want to count. It didn’t matter anyways- she had nowhere to go and however long she chose to get there. Her paws ate miles at an easy pace the wolf could sustain for hours, hunting small game when the hunger pangs overwhelmed her lack of appetite, running at night and sleeping through the hottest parts of the day. Everything still had an aftertaste of vampire blood, though Rielle knew it had to be in her mind at this point. A bitter taste for her bitter thoughts.

Lifting her muzzle high and perking her ears, the wolf drank in the scents and sounds, hoping for signs of water. Maybe a long drink would help her get rid of the taste. The wind was in her favor, tickling her nose with the promising smell of fresh water somewhere upwind. The morning’s hunt was still a warm weight in her belly, and Rielle was fighting back a yawn as she slowed to a walk. It was getting hot as the sun climbed, and her fur was already making her uncomfortably warm. It would be cooler near the water, too. Even better

Not too long ago, on an afternoon just like this, she’d been taking the cubs swimming with Layla and Clayton, a small hand in each of her own and they ‘d been singing puppy rhyming songs and-

She barked harshly, stamping her paw into the ground as though physically crushing the memory. Not now. It was too soon, still too fresh a wound to go pulling at it. She snorted at herself before bolting into a run, following the smell of water and panting harshly with the exertion in the heat. After a few minutes her paws splashed into a shallow brook, following it upstream through the greenery until it widened into a pool on the edge of a clearing. The sunlight was strong here without a canopy overhead, but the open space allowed a breeze to stir the air over the water, keeping it tolerable if not cool.

Swimming to the center, Rielle dog-paddled in slow circles and cooled off, even dunking her head blow the surface. Thoroughly saturated, the she-wolf made her way to the bank and clambered out, fur slicked down against her frame and dripping. She didn’t bother to shake out the excess. The grass was thick here with the sunlight and water, and she circled around and around in a comfortable patch nestled between the roots of a thick sycamore on the treeline before Changing. It might be more comfortable to sleep on the ground with a wolf’s more suitable bone structure, but Rielle would rather deal with sore hips or back than spend the afternoon sweltering under her fur.

With another yawn she settled in, curled up tightly on the grass with her back pressed into the curve or the trunk between roots.

---

What precisely had woken her up, Rielle didn’t know. Only that she’d been asleep, and the next moment she was wide awake and feeling like her heart was going to jump straight out of her chest. She didn’t stir right away, stayed curled on her side in the grass, damp hair obscuring most of her face and effectively blocking her view. Her forced even breathing found the smell after a moment, downwind but near enough now that she could detect it.

Vampire. And not just any vampire. She swore to herself quietly.

She probably would have run had it been anyone other than Mason. She had half a mind to try outrunning the other woman, anyways. But fast as she was Rielle knew that she’d be needing to outrun not only Mason, but the impending fire, the entire coven. She’d be hard pressed to outrun Mason’s influence, Mason’s law.

So she straightened, slowly, keeping her eyes on the vampire until she knelt tensely in the grass with the tree at her back. Instinct told her to stay low; she was the subordinate here. Pride would have her rise to her feet, stare down the other woman from her superior height. She stayed low.

Green and gold eyes widened at the sight of the vampire’s grin, shifting back until she felt her shoulder hit the tree. She swallowed with a suddenly dry throat, panic bubbling up at an alarming pace. A low growl left her mouth, more fright than threat as the realization hit her like physical blow. “He was one of yours.” It wasn’t a question. Mason wouldn’t have bothered with just any stray lycan personally. Rielle was rather surprised she made the list of Mason’s personal errands. That couldn’t be good.

[Admin]

Mason knew the exact moment Rielle was awake and aware of her presence. Though the wolf did well to hide it, Mason could hear her panicked heart beat. She stood stock-still as Rielle rose from the ground and failed to hide her surprise as she stopped at a kneel and her eyebrows rose above her glasses.

“He was one of yours,” Rielle stated. Mason’s grin died and she clasped her hands behind her back as she took a few steps farther into the clearing, avoiding the direct sun.

“More or less,” she whispered. “A little more than less, but just enough of the more to cause me a great. Big. Headache.” Mason walked up to Rielle, crouched down right in front of the panicking wolf and took off her glasses, staring into mismatched eyes. “You see, Rielle, if I deny a writ of execution for some lowly dog who slaughters one of my precious little loners and can’t give a good reason because the only reason I have is a personal relation with said lowly dog, I have problems.”

Mason smirked slightly. “That’s right, Rielle, I’m the only reason you haven’t been hunted down and killed. Oh, and your execution writ wasn’t the only one that crossed my desk. Apparently there’s this pathetic little wolf pack that was harboring a criminal. Such an offense can’t be allowed, you see.”

Mason recognized Rielle’s fear and unwillingness to further anger her but she was a little too upset to let her off so easy. She was going to let Rielle know she was alive by her grace alone and she was going to let her think that her precious pack was being hunted down and slaughtered one by one…for a little while at least.

Her smirk held as she slid her glasses back on and stood slowly. Mason pretended to be oblivious to Rielle’s biological reactions to her emotions that gave so much away to Mason’s acute senses as she paced the shadows of the clearing. “I was actually just passing through. Visiting one of my Houses to fulfill a request they made of me. Standard political procedures. Nothing…exciting. What are you doing here?” She asked with some feigned innocence.

[ElliBleu]

Every nerve, every instinct, every memory was screaming to run, but Rielle stayed low, muscles taut and ready to spring or snap as the vampire spoke. And then Mason was there, right there, and Rielle stopped breathing at the sudden onslaught to her senses. The words were nothing but meaningless noise, and though wolves didn’t hold eye contact she couldn’t tear hers away from the smoldering emeralds of Mason’s gaze, her own almost black with pupils blown so wide.

Something about a writ for her life. Unimportant, she had no more reason to fear death again, or hunters. Mason, though, Mason scared her. Her breath rattled when she remembered to breathe again. And Mason was smirking, face so close Rielle could feel the warmth of the other. The wolf growled, forcing anger into it to cover the fear that was tightening around her chest like a wire. Keep breathing.

And then, and then, this terrible, wonderful vampire was talking about a writ for Kyan’s pack, for Kyan and Reggie and Clayton, who would still be too weak to fight, for Julia and May and the cubs. The wire tightened and cut and it hurt---

Rielle snarled, nothing but feral fury to the sound. Mason stood and stepped back and the lycanthrope flew to her feet, glaring wildly at the other woman from her superior height. Her hands shook with the torrent of upset, growling deeply as the vampire spoke more words that fell on dead ears. Whatever the consequences for murdering Camus, they should have been Rielle’s alone. If Mason was here to kill her, so be it, she’d died once before anyways, and had nothing to lose at the moment.

The smell of crushed grass found her nose as Rielle twisted her feet into a more stable stance, eyes bright in the dappled shadows.

But if Mason intended to harm that pack, if Mason had harmed that pack… Rielle would leave the vampire a painful reminder. History was not in the she-wolf’s favor; even Rielle knew she couldn’t beat Mason. But she’d make sure even the vampire queen carried a scar away from this place before she died if any of those wolves had been touched, a visual reminder for all her underlings that wolves could bite, too.

It was hard to find human words when the beast language was so readily spilling from her throat already. It took a few syllables for anything recognizable to form in the thundering growl. “You know why I am here, vampire, don’t play your games with me. I won’t thank you for sparing my life, I did not ask for your mercy and I will not bare my throat to you. You are no Alpha of mine.” She bared her teeth in defiance, bristling like a beast stuck in a human skin. “The crime is my own and of my own free choice, and no Pack can be punished for it!”

She took a step towards the vampire, blind to all reason and survival instinct as the bloodrage of her kind firmly took hold. “If you or any of your kind-- i-if any hunter vampire or otherwise, threatens any of them I swear on my bones that I will tear a bloody mar through your people that even your long histories will not forget.”

Another snarl echoed through the clearing, Rielle’s teeth sharpening under her anger until they were all as pointed as her canines always were and almost howling with the fury in her blood. “So you had better forget whatever whimsy or pity makes you keep me alive, Mason Blake, for I will extend no such courtesy to your vampires if you’ve harmed Kyan’s Pack! I cannot kill you, I don’t expect to live myself, but I will not die alone if you’ve endangered them!”

[Admin]

Mason made a face of mild disgust. “As if I would want your throat,” she said knowing full well that Rielle hadn’t meant it literally. She was still in the mood for her “games”. Then she frowned, remembering something else the wolf had said. “You say that I cannot punish the pack that harbored the criminal that mercilessly slaughtered one of my very own…” She lowered her voice to a whisper.

“Rielle,” she purred. “Oh, Rielle, no one has dared tell me I can’t do something in such a very long time.” For show, Mason let go of her power. Her body temperature rose and the air around her small frame took on an orangish hue and simmered from the waves of heat pouring off of her, her green eyes flashed a dancing orange. Rielle maybe be larger than the vampire queen, but any fingered she laid on her would burn and blister in a second.

Mason frowned again. She didn’t actually want to fight Rielle, however annoyed she was with her. “Besides, those are your laws. I make my own laws. Queen’s privilege.” She was silent for a moment as she cooled her body again before she ruined her clothes and was left stranded in the middle of the forest naked then said, “When I arrived in full state at the House in question, they were organizing a hunting party. They’d already let loose the dogs, Rielle. I actually found that laughably ironic. The House Lord, however did not and didn’t seem to like being laughed at.” Her face fell slightly, almost pouting. No one but Adrian and perhaps River knew this, but Mason did dearly love to laugh. Usually at irony. Or stupidity. Things most others didn’t find all that amusing. …particularly unusual deaths… fireballs thrown at chickens…things of that nature.

Mason lost her train of thought for a moment and almost laughed aloud again as she recalled the Lord’s expression when she laughed right in his face. Ah yes, the dogs, “It was me. And it was Jasper. And the entire House was armed and ready to go slaughter some puppies directly against my explicit orders to leave your pack alone. Yes, Rielle. I denied their request to kill you which was really supposed to be just a formality no one would ever expect to be denied, and I denied their request to destroy the wolf pack as well. I hope I need not tell you how unhappy they were to see me. I hope I need not explain to you how strong the temptation to simply kill me was for them. And I hope, Rielle, that I need not tell you that any other ruler would have not only allowed the executions but joined in the fun of them. I hope I need not explain to you in tedious detail the political jeopardy I have placed myself in for you and your precious little pack of dogs.” Uh oh, she’d just talked herself right back into a temper. The air started shimmering again.

“So don’t you dare stand there in your righteous fury and threaten me. It was not I who endangered them, Rielle. It was not I. If not for me, in fact, they would be dead and dying now because of you.”

[ElliBleu]

[[Shaky post is shaky, but at least we’re to the beating-one-another-up part now?]]

The words were sharp and unwelcome, splintering against Rielle’s tenuous mind like the glass from that broken window had bit into her skin. Like she’d bitten into that godforsaken vampire. Mason kept talking and Rielle could smell and feel her temper rising, see the air starting to shimmer around the pyromancing vampire. And Mason still had words and words and more words and Rielle didn’t care, didn’t want to hear. What need did a wolf have for words, she could go days, months, without speaking or hearing any.

She was lost in emotional chaos between fear, rage, sorrow and a curiously rising sense of inexplicable betrayal.

More words, these ones bringing Rielle back to attention, shuffling her feet and slouching her shoulders like a child being admonished. She growled again, softly this time, questioning the vampire without asking.

Why?

Why would Mason hesitate even the briefest moment to sign away her life? What did a stray mutt with a bad temper and an affinity for doing things that could get her killed matter to a vampire queen? Rielle couldn’t believe the vampire respected her at all, had any sort of compassion to keep the wretched wolf alive.

So it was pity, then? Or whimsy? Maybe Rielle was a particularly amusing plaything for the royal, a little broken doll that kept showing up with new stitches and Mason was wondering just how much it could unravel—

And then Mason was mad again and it made Rielle shrink back a bit, shaking her head in denial of the vampire’s truthful accusations and squinting her eyes shut to make the prickling threat of tears stop.

No, it’s not her fault! Rielle had murdered that vampire, yes, but she’d done it to protect the pack. She hadn’t meant to bring them any harm; she’d only wanted to save them from something they could not fight. Again she’d given up a chance at home and care, trying to be proud and selfless and save others from having to trudge through the abysmal darkness she was so familiar with.

“I wanted to protect them, but you say that I—that it is my fault they are endangered.”

There was too much weight on her shoulders and here she was, crumbling like a sand statue. Everywhere she went she left a mar, disrupting the lives and homes of any she met. She raised a hand to quickly swipe across her eyes, pulling her lips back in a grimace. The only noise for a long while was the wind rustling the leaves far overhead, rasping softly against one another.



“I will not have that pack indebted to you, Mason. I’ve walked death before and I will not fear it again. I don't know why you have bothered to follow me if indeed you wanted to keep me alive.” she growled, trying to fool herself into believing the bravado. It was easiest to hide behind anger, let the fury burn over the more distracting and troubling emotions.

“If I am to blame then kill me, vampire, and settle your political instability with a cloak of my pelt.” As always, the Change was easiest with powerful emotion, and the great tawny wolf lowered her head and raised her plumed tail in blatant hostility before diving with open jaws at the misleadingly petite vampire.