Mayim

[Queen of Hearts]

“You were born during the eclipse,” her mother’s voice came to her softly, spellbinding the little girl, “It was a swelteringly hot august night and your father was watching the moon as she began her descent into darkness. The big old mutt dog that he had rescued when he was boy howled just as the water broke heralding the beginning of labor. “ A gentle chuckle and a soft hand tousled the unruly curls, mangled from a little scrap she’d been in with some neighborhood boys. “You were a fighter even then little one. Oh they way you’d kick in those last few months. We thought you were going to burst through at times!” A scoop up into the woman’s arms, short lived, for little Mayim wasn’t the type of child who liked to be held. “So then,” the story continued, “we’ve a howling mutt outside, and the moon hides her face, and as if on cue, you burst forth, and your father lifts you up, proud as a peacock, so he was.”

“Mother?” came the query from the restless child, who even now began to pace as she thought, “If he was so proud, why did he go?” The answer came, the certainty in the voice, as always, making her feel better. “Never d’you doubt that he loved you more than anything. Never!” Hands grasped hers, the only mother, parent, she’d ever known. “He love for you was so great that he had to go.” Her voice grew sad now, the feeling almost palpable. “He had great enemies, your father did, and he must draw them away, for a newly born child and women just given birth cannot defend themselves. He went one way on his own, and we came here.” The woman gestured to the shop where she made and sold charms and potions, and in the evenings told fortunes. “He would come back were it safe, and will, when he’s found a place for us to be child.” Then Mayim was cleaned up, bandages over her scrapes and cuts, and sent on her way again.

Mayim opened her eyes, angry from the tear that erupted from the dream. Her mother. Lying bitch! She turned over in her bunk, gasping softly at the cramp in her stomach. The mystery stew from last night’s dinner must not be agreeing with her. She felt another cramp, and doubled over until it passed. Silently, she slipped from her cot, careful not to wake the other girls within the state run shelter, and made her way to the bathroom. As she sat down to relieve herself, blood caught her eyes and she frowned, at first thinking maybe she’d gotten cut in that territory fight yesterday, but then another cramp hit and she swore, cleaning herself up and digging in the cupboard here for the products they had for just such an occasion. She’d learned of these things from the other girls, of course, that betrayer of a woman, she’d called mother, long since dead. And good riddance, she thought to herself as she climbed back into the bunk and fell back to slumber.

She was playing in the bathtub, having a mock war with her zoo animals, with her mother looking on folding towels. All of a sudden, they both heard a weird howl off in the distance, and Mayim looked up at Mother for reassurance, and the woman was frozen. She became aware of the inquiring gaze and smiled weakly. “That sounded just like that old dog your father used to have.” The girl went back to her play, the zoo animals were victorious, and she climbed out, and grinned at her mother as she was wrapped in a warm, fluffy towel fresh from the dryer. “Tell me about my father again?” she asked as she had on so many night. Her mother started to say something, but was cut off by another howl, the same howl, only, this one sounded like it was right outside, and it made the hairs on Mayim’s neck stand out straight. Without another word, the woman scooped her up and stuffed her into the linen closet with the other fresh towels. “No matter what, do not come out of there until I come for you.” She hesitated. “Or until you see a policeman.”

Confused, the little girl did as was asked, curling up there. It was warm and comfy in there, and she was tired as eventually she feel asleep. Some time later, she was awoken by loud voices and she stirred, reaching for the door, but remembering the warning from Mother, she stilled and listened. Her mother, “..from MY house, you walking pieces of filth.” The answer was snarled, a really weird accent, but Mayim could understand it, though some of the words she didn’t know but she thought that the scary male voice was asking about her brother. But Mother didn’t have any siblings, didn’t have anyone but Mayim. She listened as they interrogated her ‘Mother’ and learned. More than she ever wanted to learn. Her mind spun with revelations. ‘Mother’ was really her aunt. Her father was in some sort of gang, on the run from these bad guys. Her real mother had died in childbirth. Everything was a lie.

One hand went to the pouch around her neck, the waterproof pouch that never came off, not even in the bath, A supposed gift from her father and she tugged at it, trying to pull it free. It wouldn’t give and then she froze as something moved past her closet. Something inhuman. She peered through the slats at the shadow thing and it swung its head around to stare at the closet. It was a big dog, like the one her father had owned, big and black. Its nostrils were flaring as it sniffed, and its eyes. Its eyes were red. Not bloodshot, wholly red. It lifted its head and gave off a howl, that eerie howl that they had heard earlier, only with the proximity of it to her, she was enwrapped in fear, the girl child, and she trembled as she found herself wanting to run. But there was no where to go , she was trapped within the towels, though she pushed herself far back against the wall. Finally, it went away, and she breathed again, now she was definitely not going anywhere.

Some time the next day, she was roused by a pounding at the front door of the shop/residence. Mayim blinked in confusion, before it all came rushing back to her. The daylight making her braver, she crawled from the closet, and made her way towards where the voices had been last night. The store area. The scene she burst in on was far worse than her imagination had told her it could be. The corpse of the woman who she had always thought was her mother was there, recognizable from the green dress parts. They had shredded her to pieces. They had defecated on what was left of her, and for some reason, the slowly working mind of the girl thought there should be more...parts. The rib cage was torn open and the cavity within was mostly empty. There was urine and the afore mentioned excrement, globs of an odd substance that her older self would have recognized as ejaculate. They found her there, staring at all this, the police bursting through the door. She babbled out her story, some women neighbors crossing themselves and muttering about demons. Mayim, still wrapped in the towel, was led away, eventually to come to live in the shelter.

The rustling of the other females waking up for breakfast, roused her as well, she snapped wide awake, resisting the urge to reach out and punch the noisy ones. At least she was out of the dream, she heartily wished they’d just go away. She didn’t want to see, didn’t want to remember any of it. A hand went to the pouch still around her neck. She’d decided to keep it. Someday, she’d find her father and have her questions answered. Someday. But for now, breakfast. Wince as a cramp hit. And a painkiller. She’d always made fun of the women who’d whined about how terrible they felt at that time of the month. Now she knew why. Even when she’d had both bones in her left arm broken it hadn’t hurt like this. She shook it off, reminding herself that she was a survivor, and millions of women dealt with it, she could damn well do it. And she was lucky that nature had taken so long to attack her. Most girls got theirs when they were much younger.

Owing to that, and her general bad mood due to the dreams, she decided to skip out on school, she’d be dropping out soon enough anyhow, and head out to the bayou. There was something relaxing about being out there, about getting out of the city. As she wandered along the streets towards the edge of town, she was waylaid by a group of adolescent thugs, their leader, calling out to her lewdly, his white teeth gleaming against his chocolate brown skin. She took a step forwards, towards him, as if to give into his offer, and then quicker than he could react, her fist struck those teeth and he staggered backwards. Another one got a combat boot to the stomach. From behind though, an arm came around her throat and her temper flared, and she snarled. And the world changed. She was lower to the ground, head tilt, fur hands, paws. The conversion confused the gang as much as it did her, and they got the hell out of there. She panicked, her anger disappeared, and she was Mayim again, sitting on her ass in the middle of the alley, petrified.

Not stopping to think, she got her ass out of there, running as fast as she could like the devil himself was chasing her. She didn’t stop until she got to the outskirts of town and plunged into the bayou area. She never noticed the black shadow keeping pace with her, flitting along with her. Mayim threw herself down on a rise of grass and curled up. She could not wrap her mind around what happened just now, somehow the images got confused with the night she had seen her Mo---Aunt- be murdered. She had turned into the same as that thing with the red eyes. What if it had been here. Could she have done that? Her mind roiled and she didn’t notice the men until it was too late.

Mayim jumped to her feet, looking around at the five, no four, men, and the one woman. These were different than the thugs she’d fought off earlier. These were pure evil. They were unkempt, and their eyes. Insane The lot of them were insane. She backed up a step and was grabbed from behind. A massive hulk of a man, bigger than any man she’d ever seen before, who started telling her what he was going to do to her. “Over my dead body,” she snarled, sending her elbow for his gut as hard as she could and stomping hard on his bare foot. He shifted but didn’t let go and she writhed, biting and clawing, gashing along his skin, but nothing worked and she began to panic. Then she felt a hand on her thigh and she lost her temper again, and again, she changed. This time she didn’t bother to think about it. She just started killing. In the end though, they were too many for her. Swarmed, they got in one good blow across the head, which stunned her almost to the point of blacking out, and she fell back into human.

Two of the males were dead, and the female was fatally wounded, but the massive male was still very much alive and it was he who took her first, the others holding her, one wrapping something around her throat to keep her breathing at a minimum. She fought as they changed places, but one of the other men melted into a terrifying wolfman form and slashed across her bared abdomen. As it spurted blood, he used the wound there like the first one had used elsewhere, blood coursing along her body, wounds and menstrual mixing with the fluids from the males. Her eyes were squeezed shut tightly and she hadn’t finished fighting yet, still trying randomly to break from the hands of her tormentors. Somehow, impossibly, as she opened her eyes, there were more of them, her stomach heaving as she saw one of them fucking the corpse. The last straw was when she saw one eating one of the other people she had killed. She heaved her breakfast to the side, then slid into darkness.

When she awoke, she was in a place she didn’t recognize, the landscape kept shimmering out of the corner of her eye and the whole place felt...greasy, full of slime. The sheer wrongness of the place made her gut roil again, and if she had anything left in her stomach, it would have come up as she looked at herself. She could see part of her intestine hanging out, in another place she could see the bone of her rib. One leg was broken, the bone sticking out of the skin at a sickening angle. Blood, her virginity and the menstrual, was caked and dried along her naked thighs, and her arms were bound behind her. Hauled to her feet by the large man, she howled in pain as the movement brought to life all the pain, and she was forced forward, to the edge of something, some sort of curlicue.

“We can keep you alive for a long time,” the cruel voice whispered in her ear, “Tormenting your body every day, until you beg for death, but you will not get it.” A soft, almost gentle chuckle, and then he latched his teeth onto her ear and bit a chunk off, causing a yelp from her, and she tried to struggle, tried to break from his grasp. He cut out her good leg from underneath her and shoved her so that she fell to the floor, her cheek falling onto the beginning of the path. “Or, you dance the Spiral.” Blood poured from her, more blood than she thought she had within her, but the ear that he had just bitten, where it lay upon the black glassy path, it did not, it was numbed. The pain from it was gone. “Come, bitch,” he kicked her in her stomach, a squelching sound as his foot pushed more of her organs free. “Dance. Dance and give your blood to the Wyrm.”

She wasn’t really sure what he was talking about, her brain fogged from the sustained injuries, but she knew of the two options which one she didn’t want. So she wiggled forward, slithering like a worm, dragging her guts along the obsidian road. And something happened. The minute her feet left the other ground, and her whole body was upon the spiral, she no longer hurt. All of a sudden she felt fine. She flexed her arms and the bonds shattered, and she crawled farther, now on hands and knees, morphing into the black wolf that she had been, her fur changing as she went along now an odd grayish-greenish. And then the pattern took hold of her mind, her body healing as her mind fractured. It took hours, it took seconds, time wavered, but some time later, she completed the pattern, and then fell to her knees as voices erupted in her head, taunts, promises, rewards, threats, many personalities fighting, offering, threatening. Eventually one won out and a deal was made. There were many others in a semi-circle, one leaned forward, all eyes intent on her and she tried to speak, to share the revelations, but somehow command of language eluded her and she let loose a stream of nonsense syllables. “Aymgrahrw.” And fell face first, out cold, onto the floor of the cavern.

[Queen of Hearts]

As if foreshadowing the demise of the humans scuttling around like beetles within its dark and forbidding surface, the tolling of the iron within the steeple echoed across the picturesque hills in this quiet community about to be rendered into a gut churning wash of turmoil. Of one horrifically disturbed mind, the ring of poison creatures tightened on the shining jewel of this township, their whole selves encased in silence, until, again as one, the voices of those born into the breed of the canid lifted their muzzles. A howl that brought anything small burrowing deep desperately hoping to avoid the hunt this eve. A howl that the beelike cloistered within might make their crossed sign over their breasts, whispering in their dead language an appeasement to their forbidding and distant deity. A howl that brought one and only one a jolt of anticipation for he was the only tarnished soul within who had prior knowledge of the nightmarish visitation.

Eerie noise their only warning, the noose tightened until one window was pierced by a small cylinder which spewed forth greenish gas upon its strike against the cheaply carpeted surface of the ironically named sanctuary. Hellish prison it would become for those who had the misfortune to follow the call of the man who called himself their shepherd. Noxious odor spreading out and around, then as once the hive mind began entering, breaking through windows doors and in one female’s case the solid brick of the wall, merely to crush the intricately wrought pattern detailing within the common building materiel. No alarms here in this worshipping place, no and no guards. As the female strode towards her target, her brothers and sister were already defiling and destroying and she paused to admire the deflowerment of a sister who had seen more decades then anyone Mayim herself had known. Heart failed the ancient creature, not that this bothered the half wolf, half man monstrosity which never paused in his pillaging.

Continuing on past the shop of horror her insane siblings of the soul had devised, the quest continues for the one who had extended the invitation. Leader here, for the moment, trial by fire as it were, she was bringing her intended to their side of the unseen struggle. A young initiate caught her eye, curled, managing to avoid notice until now. With strength granted to her by virtue of who she was, it was no object for her to claim the girl, easily restraining her as she flailed, pathetic attempt to divorce herself from the proceedings as Mayim tore away her clothing, being none to gentle, admiring glances at the red marks against untanned skin, leaning forward to flicker out her tongue across a freed breast who had caught the sharp edge of nail. Gathering the crimson fluid with her tongue, the tormentor smeared the redness across the woman’s own lips, then changed herself to become that half and half form, superior jaws easily slicing through pointed tips. Ears admiring the unusually high pitch the scream yielded before roughly parting the chaste thighs and forcing dual digits within that never touched canal.

With much cheerfulness and some speech that vaguely resembled English, if you put it into a hamburger grinder and forced it through canine vocals, she continued on, parting that delicate screen of tissue , tearing it asunder with cruel claw and then inch by inc forcing clenched digits as far as he could, then withdrew and punched in again. Sometime in there, the girl had lost consciousness which Mayim now noticed, tossing her to a nearby wolf who sank his jaws into the flesh of the victim and tore it free, masticating with powerful jaws. Her target was still unfound and so, unnoticing of the fluids staining the fur. Shivering slightly as she slides fully human shaped and stretches lithely, before the continuation of her quest, at last finding the target sitting in the dark within his study, smoking a pipe and staring into a crackling fire. A glance at her mildly as if she were a maid come to do his bidding and a bland query, “Is it over?”

Two strides and the smallish female hefted the male by the front of his cassock and hurled him through the doorway, conveniently right upon a corpse which lay in it’s own juices and those of some others, bits an deices of it missing but it was recognizably one of his virgin females, or rather had been when still living. Mayim waited until he had finished heaving up his lunch, then dragged him along, forcing him to look at each and every horror that he had caused along the way, eventually taking him into the massive room for congregating and pushing him to the floor. He was frightened and yet, she could see the attraction, could see that behind his eyes which had called him to the taint in the first place. Almost tenderly, she pressed herself against him, easily ignoring the others of the pack who enjoyed their rampage nearby. He confused, but the flare of interest was there and that was all she needed.

Within moments, she claimed his full attention, bare skin of rounded behind pressed upon the wood of the sacred altar, legs wrapped around the waist of the man with whom she currently mated, he wearing only the collar of his profession. Blessed sacrament, wafers of supposed flesh beneath them now covered in mingled essence, then she pulled a knife from where it had been seemingly haphazardly discarded and with an easy swish, she brought it across his throat, lifeblood bathing her even as he still moved within. He had one split second of realization, mocking laughter flowing his descent into what was surely the bowels of hell, before her pack brother seeing her free came sniffing around and she repositioned upon that altar to welcome the lupine entry.

[Queen of Hearts]

MAYIM:

Hunger, that most primal of urges stirred the beast from her sodden slumber, kicking off the weight of a dogpile of brothers to poke around in the litter surrounding their pseudo camp for something edible. A curve of skull served as a bowl for a portion of brain left within, her nose sniffing out the delicacy where it lay hidden beneath a torn sundress. A shift of physicality and now human hands steadied the bone dish while disturbingly prehensile tongue lapped at the meal in the manner of her other form.

Stretching from her crouch, she idly scratched a new scar, vicious twisting of skin across her abdomen from something or the other..barfight, maybe? Her memory was usually fuzzy on these accounts either from the rolling madness or the copious amounts of liquid fortification needed to blur the crystally lucid moments. This is when she at last realized she was shirtless, some minutes after the itch subsided, the message coming across regarding the lack of encumbrance to claws.

Annoyed, Mayim spotted the torso of her brothers' most recent plaything, the top intact enough to serve. A nasty smirk flitted across her face at the logo emblazoned upon the army green cloth. Doesn't play well with others. A coarse laugh ending in a snort and a headshake. "Oh you played well enough with my brothers last night, all at the same time no less." A derisive kick to the headless corpse before donning the stolen short, and looking around for some other sustenance. The meat of the girl tempted her but there was much better prey to eat in the nearby forest.

Reaching into the pocket of one of the dead-to-the-world males, she withdrew a roll of cash, his obsession for some reason. His hand snaked out and wrapped cruel fingers around her wrist, one deep green eye glaring balefully at her. A shard of memory surfaced, a recollection of a time when his touch was beloved and gentle upon her skin. She let it fade, knowing all too well how much one of those could slice you should you attempt to grab it, to hold it. With a quick twist, she freed herself, giving him the one fingered salute and then merging with the beast within, the wolf hightailed it into the woods.

A few squirrels later, she had taken the edge off her hunger, but not enough to send her into the carnivorous sleep of an overfull gut. Mayim decided another type of hunting was in order, the wolf now stealthy, sneaking into the city, an alley on the outskirts providing the perfect opportunity to acquire humanity, or at least the semblance of, once more.

Her excellent hearing providing her with a target, loud rhythms pumping forth, spilling onto the street, she stalked up to the well-muscled meathead blocking the door's entrance, handed him the roll of money liberated from the other wolf, and shoved past him with enough force that he knocked down the first dozen people in line, and she was through and out of sight before anyone could recover.

Bloodlust skyrocketing with the presence of so many pressed together like sheep in a pen, her first target was at random, just to take the edge off. A girl slumped in the corner, drunk. A knife flashed briefly, and the girl was dead before she made a sound. The dark and noise of the club made a perfect cover even if the victim had made a sound. Holding the steaming heart in her hand, she crushed it into a bloody pulp within her fist, then shoved it into the corpse's mouth. Smearing the girl's dress with her own blood distracted Mayim briefly, another shard of memory floating with a flash of herself painting the sunset of the southwest, soon dismissed impatiently.

A trip to the women's restroom provided for the next sport, a female duo expressing their lust within a larger stall provided much entertainment for the predator. She didn't leave until every ounce of blood had been exsanguinated from both pretty little things. A brief admiration of her handiwork, then she slipped through the press of tramped up girls waiting to get into the bathroom, which quickly became the press of a retreating herd as the rumor of what could be found rippled through the lineup.

Reaching past a guy to swipe his ignored whiskey, she found a dark corner that soon became empty after a certain type of glare from wolf eyes edged the other occupants away, Mayim tossed back the liquid contents and then crushed the glass, tossing the shards into the densely packed crowd. One more and then it would be time to wander again. Staying too long in one place could get you locked up. And Mayim hated to have her freedom of movement restricted.

EROS:

::Days became weeks, weeks to months and months pushed on over a numb that only registered the passage of time in corpses. Godson of Fenrir, self proclaimed protector of his kind. A lesser pack member who'd have been overlooked if his reason to live hadn't been torn from his grip. City by city he followed whispers from hunting teams in greasy spoons, secluded hole in the wall cafes and mild encroaching upon other pack territories. Word spread fast about the forsaken who'd turned his back on the law of elders, they depicting him in such a way that any roaming sentry would end him in an instant. More than triple himself, alpha in tens would confront him should he linger too long but he fought out of his class wounding many, killing none. The human hunters who'd stalk the packs that warred him out of their space were a different tale altogether. Lethal, otherworldly force. For now he was wounded, held up in a sewer, prying silver out of his flesh with his talons by firelight.

It wasn't this city that had done this to him but the one he walked away from despite bleeding profusely from bile filled and boiling wounds. He'd be an easy track for anyone, man or pack but he couldn't feel the pain outside the loss of his homely wife and firstborn. Dawn broke before he'd finish fishing out bits of his own flesh where tiny shards of metal had embedded. He thought only of her and his deeds in the nights prior when he mused on the damage he could suddenly overlook. Before being ousted and vilified he'd been little more than a pawn following orders as dictated but those better bread himself. One single grace of silver would stop him dead in his tracks. Perhaps it was Fenrir that allowed him tolerate more or perhaps it was his loving wife lending her strength to him from the afterlife. The fire burning down to smoldering coals, as pale blues drew down the lids flinging him from this consciousness to that of another.

He slept in a perfect peace for the day, through night and again once more. Two days of rest despite the rats that passed over him, he'd been little but an obstacle on their trek. He woke in a calm fog that sat him up and drew him to his feet. The toxicity of the silver had taken it's toll on him as it filtered through his blood and nestled itself firmly in his joints as they screamed profanities toward the fog of his mind. Dizzy as a drunkard he leaned a moment only to push past the physical self and walk unencumbered out to face the evening air and stalk the next team of hunters that would seek to slaughter his kind. A battle scarred coat pulled tightly around equally worn clothing as his gaze hit the ground masking him as an average homeless man with ragged and dirty hair to match the mire of his clothing. Only a heightened set of senses would catch the air of dried blood both his own and that of mortal men he'd dispatched without considering his own grasp of mortality facing guns and crossbows loaded with silvered tipped projectiles.

A silent wander through dark alleyways and city streets guided by fate and the intrusions to his heightened hearing. A spicket dripping in solitude behind a bar where he could wash the blood from his hands, the dirt, gunpowder and spit from his face and hair. He still smelled human blood in the air though fresher than that which he wore. Pale blue eyes glancing as if they alone could track the direction from which it came. However improbable that they could they did as focus pinned on a vent and pulled him to walk deeper down the alleyway. The scent grew stronger as he neared, his ears straining against themselves to hear through the brick and city sounds. Another bar, mild disruption close to the vented room as a drunk flung out the back door followed by a bouncer tired of the conduct of his patrons. "last call doesn't mean you get one for the road, shit for brains" the gruff bouncer barked after the ousting. Eros watched the human interaction with a blank and cold stare only to receive a typical barking correction "the hell you looking at?"

The bouncer waited for a reply from the blues that observed and started to wander nearer to the door held open. The blood was that of mortal females but what wafted out the door under the rum soaked patron and smoke slathered bouncer was that no self respecting male of his kind would miss or mistake. A female pack member in a sea of humans, if anything she'd be less of a threat and easier to track back to the homestead where he could wait upwind for hunters that might come calling. He thought more than he saw as the bouncer stopped his subconscious wandering with a heavy hand to his chest. One more dead, here, by the door would buy enough time for either of them to leave out the front of the club. It was quick and quiet save for the sound of bones breaking under an inhuman grip. First the arm and then the neck without a second for pain to summon a yell for backup. Pale blues glancing over his shoulder at the patron stuck in awe over seeing what he'd like to have done come to fruition. Unprovoked he merely turned back to the club as the drunk struggled to his feet and ran.

Further down the dimly lit hall his eyes saw in perfect clarity, senses reaching out to gather a fuller profile of what he was walking in to before he broke cover. Were she younger she may have missed the cross breeze that made an entrance long before he'd come into view, mated male to one who's pack may have found such a thing fool-hearty for the young. He'd no intention of speaking, she was higher caste and likely to turn on him in lieu of conversation. The glint of her eye was a brave and public one, past the feral glance there was a cold blood flowing. Not his first encounter with those that killed to sate hungers for the carnal instead of necessity. Surely she wouldn't be the last he crossed paths with and in the universal language of their forefathers he lowered his glance with a minor recoil that would identify him as one of her kind, lesser and intent on giving her a very wide birth. Despite his stance his ears remained trained as he stood still waiting to track her back and keep watch for his true prey.::

MAYIM:

In the smokey shadows, laying in wait like a toxic spider, the twisted soul encased in alluring wrapping lifted her eyes from the mostly empty bottle of jack which consisted of the only object aside from various questionable stains upon the surface of the pitted table before her to regard the foolhardy human male who had taken leave of his wits and assumed her for an tractable object of his hamfisted solicitation. The predictable banter issuing from this neanderthal as he claimed the perch next to her, imposing on her self-imposed semi-seclusion, was enough to ensure his termination if he hadn't already done so by the mere imposition of his personage and its attendant noisomeness within her sphere of access on an evening that saw her in a splenetic temper.

Ersatz attentiveness gave him encouragement and one beefy hand traversed her upper thigh while repugnant lips sought her neck, her arm encasing his neck prodding him to further endeavors, taking her motions encouragingly until the blade slide into and severed his windpipe. The gamut of emotions that slid across his eyes brought an almost concupiscent swirl to her emotions, driving the addict's need to repeat performance. Recalcitrantly releasing the corpse to lay head down on the filthy table as if alcohol had won that battle, she drifted to another secluded shadow, deliberately casual in demeanor, that none would recall a hastened exodus from the dead man's side.

Even such as she hesitated to spoil a favorite hunting ground in the normal course of events, however this night brought tension and unease to a kind already short on patience. Once long ago the bite of the whiskey would have soothed frayed nerves, no longer as her metabolism already prone to absorption of poisons grew used to the bitter libation. Habit more than anything else drover her to continue the attempt at mind numbing distraction, or perhaps the intoxicating press of victims within the establishment countered with heightened endorphins in anticipation of a hunt.

Another bottle, another table, dark eyes idly watching the confluence around the ubiquitous pool table, staple of any establishment serving liquor, when an unexpected scent cause her nerves to jolt to high alert. Cool demeanor belying the jangling within, causal glance to locate the source amongst unwashed human. Following seemingly aimlessly brought the lethal female close to the entrance which afforded her the object of her quest, a young male, dangerously encroaching upon her territory and foolishly jeopardizing his own survival by doing so. Initial reaction stalled by necessity prodded her temper even more, and the submissive gesture did nothing to assuage the fury only somewhat provoked by his presence.

Another scent drifted to her attention, the cooling body of his victim just outside and Mayim let loose a snarl that would not have seemed out of place emitting from her other form. This many dead bodies would definitely create a problem for subsequent visits to this hole in the wall. The floodgates of anger let loose and she stalked close, balling up a petite fist, its power belying its size and gave it all her frustration as she aimed it for his midsection, an easier blow for one of diminutive size than the traditional one to the eye.

Her free hand curled itself within the flowing locks to bring his ear close to her lips, harsh whisper, full of fatal promise. “You are a walking dead man. If I ever see you near my territory again, I will tear you to pieces with my bare hands.” An irritated shove and she stomped off down the alley, heading for other grounds to slake the overwhelming bloodlust.

EROS:

::The air in the club was thick with the aroma of humanities seedy underbelly, the copper undertone only served to dull down how foul of an aroma it was to their kind. Having been part of a mated pair he knew without having it beaten into him that his best bet was to allow a female to establish herself regardless of how obvious your intentions were. Little but being hit by an alpha of his tribe multiple times could have prepared him for the force behind the fist to his gullet. A sharp breath escaping him as he hunched over the brute force that drove her fist. He expected a warning, not a female hitting him as hard as a male. Dirty brown locks falling forward at the sudden motion only to tense the roots and right his breathless form so she could fully point out true magnitude of his folly. He took the abuse in stride never, not even for a fraction of a second made eye contact as the subservient statement remained in play. She put him in his place, he was content to remain there.

It hit him, harder than her fist had in such close quarters. He bore a sudden ominous look to his eye as he watched her storm off irritated by his intrusion. Drawing an inflating breath as if to shove off the hit he'd taken before he pushed from where she'd left him and went along his own way. As planned he shadowed despite the threat to his life both verbal and non. She wouldn't understand, nor would she care to but like her he had his own way to adhere. A vengeance and hunger to sate that had less to do with what she was and more to do with the piddly hunters who'd think for a second they might have plans and weaponry big enough to pose a threat to her. Let alone her clan. Man was foolish, then again he knew he too was making a foolish choice. If she ended him for it as promised it would be a confrontation he'd face as any warrior would. It would be an honorable death no matter the effort he put forth.

Mortal cities were all the same. They smelled the same, looked the same and held the same sort of inhabitants. The other worldly, seedy underbelly types were little of his concern, only the tribes and those that would hunt them down. The distance he left was wider than it should have been for any of his cast, perhaps she shouldn't have closed the distance in the club to permeate her exact signature though to his memory. Over the night's air with a musty sort of decay he lulled in place to listen and admire the stillness underneath the buzzing. Behind the objective she was there humming softly from the other room. Soul seeking, dull blue pools saw through the rustic view of an alleyway. A mild wander paused in total as he crouched down to his knee to succumb obediently to the impending vision. A soft wind whipping through the colossal buildings brought wisps of her scent back to him as his hair wafted with the breeze.

In shades of frail blue and murky gray amid the sea of hollow darkness she stepped free of the umbra. As pure as the white flowing gown that rested about her opaque frame, as frail as the whispering winds, she neared her mate at his knee. Her pale hand framing his face to pause on his chin. He stuttering a blink before uttering in a heartbroken tone "I fear I may fail you-" a fractured smile swept her face before the vision faded in streaks back to the solitude of the city. Having suffered such a great loss in one lifetime each of these visitations left him less and less concerned over his own wellbeing. Regretting the unflattering obedience that had kept him from being there to spare her that final look eternally frozen behind her eyes. A mother's pain having to loose a child and eventually her life reflected in crystal clarity behind her eyes. Devastated and betrayed he pressed on tracking the other with utter disregard for his own safety.::

MAYIM:

Akin to the passage a cyclone carves through a trailer park, the murderous female tore a swatch of destruction along her route, slaking her anger on inanimate objects not through choice but necessity. Prey with their sixth sense had scattered before the predator had crossed their path, knowing the calm before the storm for what it was. Elderly people would complain about the young and their deviant ways, laying blame for the demolished property at the doorstep at something plausible rather than admit the sight of a diminutive female putting her fists through their car's windshield. Vehicles, mailboxes, even the children's toys left out by a thoughtless or perhaps overtired parent, nothing escaped her wave of destruction, then suddenly, it ceased. At no predetermined point or length, the fury just faded and Mayim halted, like a raccoon distracted by something shiny.

Sitting down right where she was on the sidewalk, she pulled out a piece of chalk from amongst the myriad magpie items within her pockets and began to draw upon the sidewalk just as child might do on a sunny day. Only where a scene with flowers might emerge or a series of squares for a jumping game, the wolf drew a spiral, over and over like an obsessive compulsive washing hands. Only when the entire area within her reach was covered in the whorls, did she rise, tuck the chalk from whence it came and resume wandering down the street, whistling a jaunty tune at odds with the lethality of the woman issuing it forth.

A halt, the hint of a scent brushing her nostril and she became the hunter again, kicking down a wooden gate leading to a backyard behind a rundown apartment building. Here an old man lay dying, face planted in the cement, cane out of reach though he was valiantly trying; the scent came from the crimson tide spewing from the broken nose. Obviously he had fallen and with no one around to save him, was slowly succumbing to the bony hand of death. Mayim hastened that along with a quick snap of the neck, then shifted, letting the canines elongate and the claws grow from brittle torn fingernails to vicious claws, along with all the subsequent changes one of her kinds went through, those of which for her sect were excruciatingly painful. The now fully canine females howled her misery once, the bay eerier than the normal wolf, and set about making a meal of the steaming corpse before her.

Post meal, a girl sat up, wiped her face off on the remnants of the suit coat, then rifled through his pockets, removing a wallet of the kind that all men his age seemed to have and also a pocket-watch which flicked open to reveal a wedding dedication. Something sappy Mayim didn't read and tucked it in her pocket, then removed the cash and tossed the wallet back. Something so simple and yet it had saved their kind before. The money is gone, the police call it a robbery and move on. Kicking down the locked door next, she rifled through the cabinets, finding what she was after, a bottle of whiskey. Letting herself out through he front door, she cracked open the full bottle and took a long swing, the rest of her passage back to the home camp uneventful.

Wandering past the various kinds of perversion occurring at all parts of the camp, she threw the wad of cash at the brother who'd she'd originally stolen it from, an honor among thieves thing, as it were, and flopped down against a rock. Staring into the stars, as she drank, not to drown out the horror of the spiral they'd all walked, but to swamp the flashes of per-spiral personality that crept out in certain occasions to conflict with and complicate the madness, she'd happily sink in to if that last part other would just let go. The whiskey never let her forget, Mayim hadn't found anything that did, but it fuzzed up the memories that could stab at her, letting her spirit be a little more at its own sociopathic type of peace.