Bits and Bobs.Fandom:
Brutality RPG // Ever Winter Tales // Beyond EvolutionCharacter/Pairing:
Nerys Llanfair, Teresa Reign, Lidochka Mikhaylov, Harper Smith, Susan GardnerRating:
PG13; language.Word Count:
Little random snippets that have popped into my brain, I started to try and turn into ficlets (they might get there one day XD), or else just typed out as notes, a couple are starts to posts that I wrote and then rejected and tried again, even though I liked them - usually they just didn't quite make sense- anyway, I thought I might as well post them for funsies. Lalala. Cameos; Keegan MacInyre, Nate Wilder, Marcus Rivera and Aiden Fields belong to clez
, Heidi Fischer belongs to ladynorbert
and omg I know there's a lot of Nerys. XD SORRY!Summary: '.' Bits and Bobs. beyond evolution;
Eating a 16oz steak should have sated her hunger. Most people would have thought that it would. Harper wasn't exactly a huge person, yeah she was pretty tall but she was all muscle and sinew. Not a boast or anything like that, she was just built for the take down, after all where she came from it was stay in shape or get a bullet into the brain pan.
For a while she was fine. The practically raw meat had hit the spot and if she was honest she'd actually schlepped to her room and fallen asleep on top of her bed for a few hours. Food coma. What could she say? She was a big cat after all. Nonetheless, when she'd woken up, groggy and lazy the first thought that she'd had was one simple, four letter word; hunt.brutality;
"You know, Nate should really have a look at this."
It was a last ditch attempt to prompt her charge into seeing the pack's doctor
"You're doing a great job."
With an exasperated sigh, that granted held very little real exasperation, Nerys shook her head, "Seamstresses usually only have to deal with fabric, not skin," she grumbled.
Keegan chuckled slightly and then winced and mouthed an 'ow' at the blond as she pulled one of the stitches she was sewing in his shoulder blade a little more sharply than necessary. In retaliation she gave him one of her well-what-do-you-expect expressions and smiled sweetly.
As months went hers had been average. Out of the three nights of the moons peak Irina had spent only one in confinement, a foul mood had descended around her much of the last day, the sleepless hours spent in wolf form during the middle night had made her snappy and irritable, it was only natural. On any other day she enjoyed the closeness she shared with that being in the back of her mind, she'd been a werewolf all her life and she loved it, it didn't mean that once a month - on a bad month - she couldn't curse her lycanthropic inadequacies to high heaven. Since the most recent night of failure she had gone back to routine, maybe pushing herself harder than ever; each failed attempt to get a handle on her wolfen counterpart seemed to add fuel to the fire, the smouldering desire to succeed. Maybe even to prove herself, but she didn't allow such thoughts to get too much of a grip on her, they led to much more brooding than she could envisage herself handling.
The brunette had the training room to herself, she'd passed up a trip to The Onyx to get in some training as it happened and she wasn't wasting time. Traditionally they were meant to be unsharpened like the training set she was using right now, brutal but blunt and in all fairness that was the best for everyone. A human with a sharpened Sai was more likely to take their own eye out than anyone else's, but Irina was a fan of the more offensive style of fighting with her Sai when out and about, modern culture had jumped on her bandwagon in portraying the weapons as flashy daggers and the techniques in the movies made her sick. Amateurs
Currently the knuckles -the very and of the hand grip- of her favoured weapons were down against the floor, the rounded end of the training 'blade' directed straight up to the ceiling; Irina held them with the crook of the thumb in the tsuba, the dips between the main shaft, her index fingers followed the hand grip, pointing along the shaft to the floor with regimented precision and with her feet behind her, shoulder width apart she used her grip to pump through some push-ups. It was a standard exercise with the weapons and one that afforded her a nice blanket of concentration when she could focus on the steady rhythm she developed rather than anything else that might be going on around her.
True to form her hair was loose and unhindered by hair elastics or ribbons or whatever, a very simple, black hair band pushed it back from her forehead and that was it. Still as she bent her arms at the elbows the dark locks swept across the floor but at least she could see. Irina pushed air out of her lungs, her arms started to burn a little, as they should; no pain no gain was a cliché but only because it was true. To some degree at least.
"Smile." He leered at her, holding up a newspaper beside her as another man stood with a camera and took a photo. Proof of life. They were still trying to bleed her father dry of his time and money. Lidochka settled a hard expression on her face and looked at the lens of the camera, telling anyone who saw the resulting photograph with her eyes that she had not been broken yet. She was alive and she was still whole.
After the man with the camera left, taking the newspaper and slamming the door behind him, her captor walked languidly to her front and looked down on her. Cold, beady little brown eyes from saggy, pouched sockets stared down at her and the ghost of cruel smile twitched at the edges of his mouth. "Why do you not cooperate? Maybe if you were to give us some information pertaining to your father's workings we could find an arrangement with the Great Lev Mikhaylov faster, yes?"
Grey-blue eyes stared at him but Lidochka said nothing.
"Always so silent." He sighed, and reached to catch her chin with his fingertips, their rough, dark calluses a stark contrast to the soft, pale skin they grazed against. For a moment he tilted her face upwards and then he withdrew his hand and smacked the back of it against her face. With the back handed hit the ostentatious stone he wore on his ring finger split the taut skin over her cheek bone and Lidochka gasped against the sudden stinging pain.
"Mm?" The fighter responded without looking.
Nerys swallowed thickly; "My water just broke."
"Fuck..." her eyes swam with uncharacteristic tears, one hand flaccidly reached up to her neck, to the dart that protruded out of her flesh, now empty.
The drug was already in her system.
Tossing it down in disgust she tried to run still, damnit she had to get the hell out of the street before the men caught up with her. Retching and feeling a sensation of detachment fighting to rob her of her senses, Teresa staggered down the sidewalk.
The objects around her started to blur and bend, buildings seemed to melt into the sky and the sidewalk bled up into the walls around her. Dizziness and nausea took over and her legs were the first thing to go, her knees buckled and she sank to the ground, almost gracefully kneeling down on the concrete, the strength leaving her muscles in sweeping, smooth sensation. A smiling face looked down at her, bright blue eyes and neatly cropped hair and the suit, the smell of cigar smoke clung to it... cigar smoke and alcohol...
He said her name and stroked her face and she didn't have the strength to recoil before everything turned foggy and black.
"No." the brunette shook her head, she brought the book out from her chest and started flicking frantically through the pages, her voice shaking, "No, no, you can. I know you can. I've heard the other pack members talk about you... you talk to them, you can see
them. I need you to help me talk to her." Apparently she had found the page in the book she was after and she brought it forwards. Nerys didn't even look at it, something about ghost whisperers; most published information about contact with the dead was nonsense in her opinion.
"Irina. I'm sorry about your sister. But I can't do what you're asking. I haven't seen her, she hasn't come to me. That's a good thing, it means she's at peace." She said, her voice soothing and calm.
The brunette didn't take notice, "Don't say that... don't... I know you can do this. I know you can damnit! I have to know how it happened. I have to know....I have to..."
"You mean you won't
!" Irina shouted the words, eyes shining with tears.
It was always the same. Something shifted in the air and he came running, sensing something was wrong. She always wondered how he managed it, how he knew
when something was wrong; when she was hurt or in danger. She stared at the door as it shook in its hinges, dust from the stones and crumbling white wash around its frame spiralled through the air and settled to the wooden floor and as she gazed blankly at it and thought of him.
"Nerys?" his voice battered down the door where his body could not, some force obstructed his efforts, "Nerys! Can you hear me?"
Moving a little, rolling her head back and blinked at the ceiling, her vision was spotted and dim and she couldn't hear him so well when looking in that direction so she looked back at the door groggily. Through the powder that fell like snow all around her.
Her lips parted and she drew in breath, "Daffyd.. I-I can't...and you... for-forever... they're watching..."
A sudden jolt brought the door splintering inwards but everything seemed to be happening in slow motion, the wood clattering to the floor, the scents of so many pack members flooding through the gaping mouth of the doorway that was left behind. One stuck out amongst the others and arms went around her waist and the back of her neck, hot where she was cold, strong where she was weak.
Geoff shook his head and Katherine fixed him with a hard stare. This was quickly degenerating into an argument again, another shouting match that she didn't know if she was strong enough for right now. It wasn't that she wanted to save the marriage, not in the least, she knew it was over and she was glad that they had both realised that they didn't work together now rather than ten years down the line. That didn't stop it hurting and it didn't stop her being angry.
He sighed and dropped his eyes to the floor, "Let's not argue, Kath."
"Why not? We're so good
At some point she had developed the habit of spinning the ring on her left hand when she was nervous. It wasn't like it was her only personality tick either, anyone who knew the pack medium well knew that she had a long list of little customs she went about under different circumstances; making the bed when she was worried, twisting a lock of blonde hair when she was thinking. The list went on and on. However her latest tick was the one that was probably the most widely noticed, even if it was only observed on a subconscious level. Something about having a pack fighter as a mate caused high levels of anxiety. That and the fact that Nerys MacIntyre, nee Llanfair, was and always had been a natural born worrier hardly made it surprising that she was prone to unrest in such situations. It was what made her who she was.
At first the kitchen had been the site of her silent vigil. If it could be called that. With a cup of tea cradled in her perpetually cool hands she opened up her senses for the slightest sound coming from the lobby. The slightest scent that would signal the return of the pack fighters. After a time a scent did reach her, but not from whom she was waiting on at such a late hour of night. Heidi drifted into the kitchen and smiled gently at the room's sole occupant.
"Refill?" she asked, indicating Nerys' mug.
"Oh," Nerys started slightly, looking into the dregs that had long since become undrinkable. "Yes, thank you Heidi."
One of the defining things about England was the appalling weather in the wintertime. On this particular afternoon sleet was falling in steady sheets, on the cusp of snow but just wet enough to form icy puddles in the lane. The trees dripped from their leafless branches and no one dared venture outdoors on days such as this. Nerys sat in one of the upper windows of the farmhouse the pack was occupying currently; she blinked dully, not really seeing anything beyond the drizzle splattered window. Her thoughts were elsewhere. It had been six months since Daffyd had passed away, the pack's territory was safe; life seemed to have returned to normal for everyone but her.
Sighing, she wiped her cheek, brushing way a tear. As much as she hated to cry but just couldn't seem to stop herself in the quiet of her thoughts, the ache in her chest just drove the tears out. She supposed it was better that way, better than keeping it inside because Nerys had seen first hand how that could destroy a person from the inside out. Her mate wouldn't have wanted that for her.
The door opened and closed and there was a lingering silence with the new occupant to the room. Nerys already knew who it was of course, not just by scent but by the weight of his walk, the way the room thrummed with the gravitas of his presence. The Pack's Alpha Male; William. She didn't speak and neither did he for at least a minute.
"You're not going to say anything, Will?" she asked, staring at the window still.
He moved towards her armchair, "Not if you don't want me to."
She smiled, "You don't have to do this. I'm fine."
"You're thinking about leaving, aren't you?"
For the first time since he had entered Nerys turned to look at the Alpha over her shoulder. She placed a small hand on the arm of the chair and pressed down, hoisting her delicate frame up. Dressed in a tartan shawl drawn around her shoulders tightly over a grey ankle length dress, straight laced with a high collar she nodded once; "I can't stay."
He lied to me.
All these years I put my faith in one man above all others. I followed every order, I ate up every ounce of praise and swallowed every story that he told me about my roots, about my heritage and destiny. About my mother.
It was all bullshit.
Right at this moment I hate him more than any vampire, more than any creature of the night he has had me hunting since I could walk. Yet I can't do it.
When I found out the truth I ran straight back here, I already knew what I had to do and anyone who got in my way found out the hard way how dedicated I was to my new cause. I can hear them crying still, calling for their mothers, swearing or else just crying like babies, regressing as the pain shoots through their nerves and the blood gushes out of them. Most of them are missing one of the five major senses or a limb or two so I don't blame them for going foetal. They're lucky to be alive. Every last one of them.
I cut through them all to get up here.
Leyland was in his office like I knew he would be, pacing around like the fucking king of everything. The moment I walked in he knew I knew.
"Damnit Kath', how did you get me to do this again?"
Marcus Rivera pretty much towered over his sister, which helped in many occasions other than meaning that he could be intimidating as hell to anyone who was trying to mess with her. Not that many people tried to mess with his sister. For her height she was intimidating enough, she could get this look in her eyes that had the ability to make people stop in their tracks and freeze beer, okay maybe the latter was more born from the rumour mill than anything else, but it seemed entirely possible. Height was an asset never the less. In this particular situation she was continuously pestering him to tell her what was going on at the front of the crowd since her own view was blocked by taller, heavier set people, and when she wasn't doing that she was looking at her watch.
"I think I used the 'sibling loyalty' card didn't I?" she asked, not really expecting an answer because she knew it already. That had been exactly the tact she'd used and it had worked well.
"Oh yeah," her brother replied, "You don't get to use that again the rest of the month. I can't believe I fell for it anyway."
Kath' smiled, leaning sideways to see where the line started for herself, "You're gullible, what can I say? I see a weakness I go for it."
"Yeah, yeah." He waved away her statement, "Like a blood-hound. You couldn't just go with 'because you're the best brother ever' line? I like that one much better."
"I only lie
when necessary, you know that."
Marcus shoved her in the arm. "Shut up."
"Brat." she retorted, shoving him back.
Marcus swayed on the spot but his feet didn't move with the shove, it had only been playful as his had been, still he looked down at her, "Dork."
"Holl amrantau'r sêr ddywedant, ar hyd y nos...
For some reason he responded to her more when she spoke Welsh than he did when she spoke English. The result was that since she had discovered this fact Nerys MacIntyre had spoken more of her native tongue than she had in years
and honestly she really rather enjoyed it. Understandably enough it wasn't an easy language, two extra vowels and lots of odd sounds not found English but despite that and her children's age she felt that Bryn would be a Welsh speaker.
She had shackled herself to the wall at the wrists, if she had had the means she would have shackled her ankles too but Nerys Llanfair had neither the time nor resources. She sat with her back pressed up against the stone flags, so cold they made her skin feel damp right though her thin cotton shift. Her clothes were folded up on a barrel several feet away, tucked inside a bag with what little else she called possessions because she knew that whatever she wore would not survive her change.
Tears worked their way down her cheeks and she choked back a sob. She was going to change and become that thing. The thing that pressed into her thoughts constantly and that seemed to have a will of its own, desires so bestial they made her skin crawl. That evil thing.
The shot gun released a cone of pellets, right into Katherine's lower abdomen. The sheer force blew the detective off her feet and she skidded across the floor a ways before coming to a rest. She couldn't feel anything at first and green eyes stared up at the ceiling; she shifted herself, pulling her shoulders off the floor a little to try and see who was in the doorway, who had fired the shot so ruthlessly. Then the pain hit, blasting its way out of the fog of shock and she cried out, her voice strangled and high pitched, completely unlike the type of sound Katherine Rivera would consciously make. Tears stung, unshed in her eyes and she looked down the length of her body, digging her heels into carpet. Blood blossomed through her blue shirt and she tore at the button of her jacket, almost ripping it off with numb, fumbling fingers as she tried to get a better look at the wound.
She had to keep her head together, she had to... Oh God
there was a lot of blood and the burning
sensation... it was like nothing she'd ever felt before in her life. She swore wetly, salty tears slipped into her hair as her head slammed backwards against the floor, pain washing over her anew. "You fucking... son of a... bitch
!" she sobbed angrily, clearly aiming her words at the shooter though she couldn't see him, her eyes raking over the ceiling above her. Her breathing was already laboured and she was light headed from the rapidity with which he was sucking in the oxygen.everwinter tales;
"Long day?" he asked from the doorway to the kitchen.
Susan nodded glancing over her shoulder and swallowing her mouthful of beer, "The longest." She sighed, though the audible expulsion of air had very little to do with the patients or the Hospital really. Well in a way it did; the fluorescent lights affected her in a way she wasn't used to, bright and offensive against her retinas when she was functioning on little sleep and less caffeine. Being on her feet for twelve hours had made her feet sore, despite her sensible choice of worn in sneakers. All the chairs were uncomfortable in the ER. The halls were crowded and everywhere was loud and busy. Susan had one hell of a headache. Despite all that though, it was more the fact that she couldn't avoid all that stuff anymore than was weighing on her; she suddenly felt mortal again and it was strange.
Despite hearing Aiden move to join her in the kitchen, Susan didn't turn around, just stared blankly and resolutely at the wall, lips pursed, senses full of the satisfyingly bitter taste and smell of beer.