meveret

You can tell a lot about someone by the music they listen to. Hit shuffle in your iPod/iPhone/iTunes/media player and write down the first 10 songs. Then pass this on to 10 people.

i have a couple of different playlists for cathode springs things, so ill do five from the main bestiary playlist and five from the bishop/werewolves playlist

—————————-

bestiary

1) evil angel- rufus wainwright

2) small town witch- sneaker pimps

3) under atomic skies- iamx

4) rats- rasputina

5) beast of honor- melissa auf der maur

fullmoon

1) my leather, my fur, my nails- stepdad

2) you can bring your dog- tori amos

3) pavlov’s bell- aimee mann

4) werewolves of london- warren zevon

5) 99 problems- hugo

I don’t think I have ten more people to tag so, If you want to do this, go ahead!

Fragments of the Pack, part four

[part one][part two][part three]

“Almost a year ago I ran away from my home in the desert, where the packs of wolves live in a united clan. It’s a secret— nobody is supposed to know we exist, I’m only telling you this because you’re a fellow wolf now. My parents were trying to force me to marry a man that I didn’t want to, for reasons that are… complicated. But basically to help keep my parents and people like them in control of our pack. Sort of a political arrangement. I dodged them for awhile, but now they know I’m not in Night Vale or Desert Bluffs and it won’t be long before they find me here, and they’ll make me go back and marry him, and be mated to him. And I’m not going to. I don’t care what I have to do.” Chie clenched their fists, thinking of Radley and his cold smile, and Lake, even worse, even more dangerous. Thoughts of Lake Vukonich haunted their dreams, nearly constantly, there was so much that was phenomenally wrong with that wolf, so much that Chie would run to the ends of the earth to escape.

Bishop ran his hand, absently, habitually over his pompadour, looking over and catching his own eyes in the mirror over the sink before he sighed, his hand drifting down to rub the back of his neck. “That’s rough, kid. Really, I uh… sympathize, but what do you want me to do about it? You gotta keep these people off my tail, that’s all I care about.”

Chie hadn’t expected such a chilly reception. Why had they expected that Bishop would somehow be obligated to care about their problems, that the two of them would be some sort of little unit and they would what…. go on the run together? Bishop wasn’t about to interrupt his life of drinking and carousing and writing, not for some little revelation like finding out who his maker was. This was a lone wolf here, and though Chie had been one too this past year they had within them the memory, both instinctual and experienced, of the pack, the sense of family, the safety of it. They hadn’t openly admitted it to themselves but they had been hoping for a renewed sense of that with him. Falsely, they now realized.

“I’m not sure how I can do that unless I keep you with me,” they said. “We could keep each other safe. I’m a much more experienced werewolf than you, I’m much more powerful.”

Bishop arched an eyebrow. “Are you now? I’m doin alright. I can’t tell you how many barfights I’ve ended just by showing my teeth.”

Chie laughed, a loud bark in the tiny space. “You think the wolves of my pack are going to be scared off by your little teeth? That’s not going to mean a damn thing. They’ll end you. These are real wolves, hunters, that have been hunting as a pack their whole lives. I’m talking born werewolves, natural werewolves. They’ll ask you to join them, and if you don’t, they’ll rip you apart. They can’t have a lone wolf living out here. This is devastating to our secrecy, do you understand?”

“Then why the fuck did you bite me?” Bishop snapped, his eyes bright, his fury blinding. “You’re the one who attacked me, who turned me!” He jabbed his finger at his chest violently.

“I… can’t begin to say how sorry I am about that,” Chie said, feeling a tremor deep within their own chest, resonating along their collarbone, a weakness deep down in them. “It was an accident, really. The brother of the man I was promised to had tracked me down in Night Vale and had trapped me awhile, and I had just managed to get away and run here, and I was in such panic and survival mode that I was a wolf all the time, just scavenging and running and…” They caught their words sharply behind their teeth, stopping breath, stopping everything, unable to continue. Chie’s hands sought out the abundance of fabric of their lavender skirt, balling it in their hands. Just the mention of Lake was like conjuring him into the room— he seemed to be here, everywhere, Chie could feel the presence of his dark hair and his burning eyes and his body that seemed as hard as bone, more wendigo than wolf. Chie felt like there was something in their throat, fur, tumbleweed, a tangle of poisonous herbs ready to choke them. An edge of a panic attack was coming on but there wasn’t time for it now, but Chie found themselves staring at the drain on the floor, the darkness it contained, somehow connecting this to the first moment they saw Lake sliding out of the darkness in Night Vale, liquid and one with the shadows, and he could be in any shadow then, he could be in all the smoky darkness contained in this bar and Chie suddenly realized they had not been breathing in a very long time and was suddenly choking, coughing, turning and gripping the sink against a bout of dizziness, blinking at their own reflection in the mirror unrecognizing and then looking down into the drain, just a black hole minus a stopper just blackness, blackness, and the rust-stained sink with the cluster of three fat droplets of blood and Chie was going down, the sink rushing up and its porcelain edge colliding with their chin, jaws snapping shut biting their tongue and the sharp familiar taste of blood and then blackness, more blackness.

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Fragments of the Pack, part three

[part one][part two]

“The unisex bathroom thing wasn’t for your benefit by the way,” Bishop said, a little testily. “I wasn’t being presumptuous. It’s just cuz I’ve been in here before and I know it locks. For fucking I mean. I piss in the men’s room.” He jerked his thumb in that direction, at the red wall.

“Lovely.” Chie was starting to wish they had taken a little more care in choosing the recipient of their bite, any care at all really. They felt about Bishop not unlike the result of an ill-planned one night stand.

“Sorry about that little show of teeth out there,” Bishop said, tipping his head toward the door. “I don’t really like being grabbed. I’ve been in a couple of fights around here, so.”

Chie half smiled shyly. “Do I look like I’m going to fight you?”

“You never know in Cathode Springs.”

“No, you really don’t.” Chie licked their lips nervously. “You don’t know who’s who. A lot of people here wear their mutations on their sleeve, but some, like you, have it more under the surface.”

He slicked his hand over his hair, pushing back into place a few strands that had fallen in his burst of anger. “Well, I’m not from Cathode Springs, either, as I’m sure you can tell by the accent. So it’s not really your average Cathode Springs mutation, it’s something that was done to me when I got here.”

The werewolf’s heart skipped a beat. Done to him. Many hours, many sleepless nights had been devoted to torturing themselves over what they had done, not only unwittingly forcing the change on Bishop but also attacking him viciously. Chie had only a faint, cloudy memory of what they had done that night in the alley, but they knew it had been bloodthirsty, pure animal. They had tried to tear him apart. And the man before them might never forgive them for it, Chie knew that. After the display out in the bar they thought it was very likely Bishop might react with violence in turn. But what Chie needed wasn’t forgiveness or acceptance. What they needed was to not place Bishop in any further danger.

If Bishop wanted a fight, Chie would give him one, reluctantly so. But he would learn just how futile it was to challenge your own maker.

They took a deep breath. “I know. I know what was done to you. That’s what we need to talk about.”

Bishop’s eyes narrowed, glimmering. “You know? You’re… from the desert, right? Do you know something about the werewolves out there?”

Chie hadn’t thought this through completely. In the desperate rush of the last few days, when they’d come to realize the wolves from their clan were really onto them in Cathode Springs, they’d realized that they needed to tell Bishop the truth, but they hadn’t really thought out what that truth had sound like. They’d imagined that they would ease into it gently, somehow. That they’d make Bishop realize that they weren’t a bad person, they were only here to help, and that the two of them could be something like friends, perhaps. And somehow the blow of I’m the one that bit you would be softened and it wouldn’t really sound so bad. And Bishop wouldn’t want to hit them. Or bite them. Lord, Chie did not want to get into a wolf fight in this damn tiny unisex bathroom.

But now, they realized there was nothing to do but just to say it. No way to soften it. They were, as Bishop had pointed out, a frilly little package, a pretty face. But they had done an ugly thing, and there was no getting around its ugliness. And there was perhaps one, simple way to do it, that cut out all the bullshit and all the questions.

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Fragments of the Pack, part two

[part one]

Bishop turned his gaze lazily over, a pair of dark eyes large and soulful but sparkling with a bit of playful mystery. You didn’t have to be a werewolf to smell that he was dangerous; there was far too much possibility in him. He picked up his whiskey glass and swirled it several times in his grasp, looking Chie over steadily. “What’re you drinking?” he asked finally, slurring slightly, an edge of a smile tugging at the curve of his lips.

“I’m not drinking anything,” Chie said. “I just got here.”

Bishop raised his finger. “Anemonia!” he called down the bar, to the barkeep chatting and laughing with her customers, her hair pinned up in a pile of carrot-orange victory rolls. “Get this gentleman—” He glanced back over at Chie out of the corner of his eye, at the lolita frills and the makeup, their carefully teased little hairdo. “—our new friend a drink,” he corrected.

Anemonia ambled over on sky-high pumps, and Bishop leaned in close enough that Chie nearly choked on the thick alcohol scent pouring off of him. “Sorry about that,” he muttered, winking. “Gentleman’s not really the right term, I take it…?”

“It’s really not,” Chie said dryly, and smiled up at the towering owner of the Blackadder, Anemonia Castro, her arms spread wide with elaborately manicured hands resting on the bar and her smile inviting… both the red-lipsticked one facing them and the one Chie could see over her shoulder, in the mirror behind the bar, buried amongst the swirls of her ginger hair and curling wide with very sharp teeth. Futakuchi-onna, they called that, Chie had learned growing up. “I’ll have a Diet Coke, please,” they said, reaching for their matching lavender handbag.

Anemonia set about pouring the drink, but Bishop leaned close to them, giving them a little poke with his elbow. “Oh c’mon now, you can’t order a Diet Coke in a bar, at least not without a little Jack in it. C’mon, order something else. Don’t you want a….” Bishop licked his lips and looked Chie up and down again. “A sex on the beach or a banana daiquiri or something?”

Anemonia slid the glass of soda in front of them. “Bishop, quit being a pest. This is my bar and anybody can order whatever they want. I can afford to lose a little bit of money on this one as long as you’re here, drinking for the both of you.” She smiled at Chie. “That’ll be two-fifty.”

Chie set three dollars on the bar, avoiding the wet stains. “Keep the change.”

“No, no.” Bishop placed a fingertip on the wad of bills and slid them back in Chie’s direction, dragging them through a puddle of alcohol. “It’s on my tab.”

Chie shook their head. “No, really, it’s all right. I’ve got it.”

Bishop flashed a wedge of smile. “No, no, I insist. I’ve got a, a…” He waved his fingers in the air trying to retrieve the words. “A company tab. It’s on Strexcorp. No worries.”

Chie didn’t like that much, setting their lipglossed mouth in a line, but said nothing.

Anemonia’s eyes flashed from the retreating pile of ones to Bishop’s face, looking at him dubiously. “Alright. Well, don’t harass our new friend too much, you guys play nice.” She tipped her head to Chie. “Well let me know when you need another Diet Coke or you decide you want an actual drink or anything.” She drifted off back towards her group of customers with a final warning glance at Bishop from below her darkly sculpted brows, part stern schoolmarm and part “oh you” wry grimace.

“Sorry if that was rude,” Bishop said, tipping a little whiskey to his lips, as though he couldn’t get through the sentence without wetting his tongue. He dipped his head in apology. “The gentlemen thing and the drink thing. Not off to too good of a start, am I?”

“You’re not doing so bad,” Chie said, sipping the sweet fizzy Coke, wondering just how much they should let Bishop flirt with them for the sake of getting closer. Also wondering just how fucking drunk Bishop was that he really had no idea that he was sitting next to another werewolf. To Chie the scent was clear as day, not just a scent but a feeling in their gut, and tingling in their spine, raising the little hairs on the back of their neck. They remembered what it was like to be surrounded by that constantly, the collective hum of being in the middle of the pack, the extended pack, a hum so constant that it became barely noticeable, as though they were all vibrating on the same frequency. When with the family unit it presented as more of a deep sense of contentment… most of the time. Of course things hadn’t been very content at all with their family the last time they were together, and of course that was the bad taste that had stuck in Chie’s mouth. Bad memories of the pack in general, the whole clan. Fortunately, Bishop vibrated on a much different frequency. They supposed it was the frequency of their shared bite, Bishop being the only wolf they had ever spawned. Practically their child.

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