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 Unconditional

Discussion in 'Roleplay Execution' started by Iniquity, Jul 13, 2018 at 5:06 PM.

  1. Iniquity

    Iniquity Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned Member

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    "Miss Beckett, your car is waiting outside." A familiar voice called into a rather spacious, white office. The female behind it sighed softly as she toyed with a fountain pen, her delicate fingers spun it in circles before dropping it down on the paper pad before her. Isabelle had been working relentlessly; and it showed. From the moment she'd been able, she'd been edging her way into PR. Her first step had been working as a receptionist on her days off during school; that PR firm helped her steady herself and climb into the world she had grown to enjoy. It didn't take long after that for her to start off on her own, with a book full of clients and a give 'em hell attitude. Isabelle was also unlike most of her colleagues, she was British. The female had moved over to continue her studies in the USA. So far, she'd been a major hit, and it was only getting better.

    The woman eventually grabbed her handbag, dressed in stilettos and a loose fitted button up navy shirt, it hung and concealed her hourglass figure to some degree. It was professional. The pencil skirt she wore, curved around her behind and flared out slightly along her thighs, thanks to the minor slit in the back. The young woman had finally come into her own; she was a force to be reckoned with. She worked out daily, she achieved more than she had to at work, and she had independence most people would die for. Money meant she was able to do pretty much everything she wanted, for now. Isabelle was good with money, most of it was stored away and the rest was paying off her apartment in the city. And yet.. she still wasn't happy, not really.

    The blonde made her way down the fairly narrow staircase with her suitcase in tow. She didn't have much time to work, but she'd made the few calls and emails that she intended. That day, she was flying off to meet a potential client in another state. He had offered her a great deal of money to oversee a project he was planning to launch. Her company would handle all the PR, and if they did well, she could earn a permanent client. It would be... one of her milestones. Not to mention that she was going to be able to see another state, another town. It was going to be something special, she was determined to make it a trip to remember. It wasn't often that she got to travel, so she was determined to embrace it.

    The meeting was set for a day after she arrived, that gave her time to enjoy a drink and a meal alone before work came calling. By the time she landed, that choice had certainly spun around her head, maybe she should've had more days off; hell, she needed a vacation. Isabelle loved her work, but it was tiresome to be so switched on all the time. The woman missed the days where she'd go for a picnic with friends, then have the rest of the day filled with pyjamas and giggles until they cracked open beers in front of some old movies. Much had changed since her university days.

    Some hours later, the female had landed and had found a rather nice bar close to her hotel. It seemed to be thriving, even if it was somewhat dark and filled with an older wood smell. It was rustic, she'd give it that. It was certainly a place she could kick back and relax. Almost as soon as she entered, she ordered herself a beer and settled rather comfortably at the bar. A game of some type was on, not that she was bothered. Isabelle didn't really like sports, not unless it got interesting with fouls.

    After some time of drinking and picking at some bar snacks, a man settled in next to her. He seemed rather nice, maybe too much on the meterosexual side for her tastes. Slicked black hair and dark eyes, paired with a well tailored suit seemed to hint he was far more used to working in the city than he was trying out their bars. When he gazed over to her, he noticed the similarities they had.

    "Hey, can I get you a drink?"

    Isabelle almost burst out laughing, fortunately she suppressed it. "I'm still working on this one," She nodded toward the half empty glass of beer in front of her.

    "Right, of course. But when you're finished?"

    Isabelle was no stranger to attention, and that attention wasn't the kind she enjoyed.

    "No thanks--" As she was about to finish her sentence, something drew her attention to the kitchen. The narrow hallway that was in the corner of the left hand side of the establishment seemed to lead to a busy kitchen pumping out pub food; it was only when her gaze lingered more that she saw someone that almost made her slip right off of her chair. And it wasn't the four beers she'd had.

    There was a moment of pure shock. Her whole body tensed into a fight or flight response that didn't fully develop. Was it... It couldn't be. No.

    Isabelle slipped from the stool, her gaze locked onto the male. The man looked just like him... and it made her heart jump. Her stomach was already down into the floor, even her breathing was somewhat hindered. The man who settled beside her attempted to see if she was okay, but she simply shoved down a few notes onto the bar before she grabbed her purse and started to head for the kitchen. Her long blonde loose curls trickled down her back as she strode with a fierce confidence. Who the fuck did he think he was?

    It was mind blowing to think that he could be right there, he could be within her reach. All of the pain she'd felt when he had disappeared seemed to rise back up. It had taken her a year of searching to finally give up; but he'd never left her mind, not really. The dreams of finding his body, or somehow him returning to her had plagued her nights more than she'd care to remember.

    By the time she entered the kitchen, he was gone. The female didn't hesitate, even as she heard voices reprimanding her. "HEY, lady! You can't be back here!" Isabelle was long gone, already stepping out the back door and managing to keep a swift pace in rather long, thin heels, the straps around her ankles certainly helped as she broke into a rather tipsy trot. Her usual feminine sway was off, she was now almost waddling.

    "Hey!" She called out, her impatience was showing. It just had to be him... It had to be. The female's heart leapt in her chest as she recalled countless memories of him, the way he'd hurl her onto the bed, the way she'd wake up pressed against him... And all the time she truly felt he was still out there, had he really been out and around like it meant nothing to him to leave?

    "Finn!" The female called out, her voice as determined as it was furious. She stood almost dishevelled, tears threatening to sting in her eyes. It seemed the name was enough to cause him to halt, causing an ache in her heart. A soft whimper escaped her lips as she clasped her hand over her mouth to stifle the sound that threatened to come out. Isabelle had never felt so confused. It felt as if the very ground beneath her had begun to crumble. In her heart, she knew it was him before she'd even followed him out.

    "Finn." Her voice was almost a plea for him to at least show himself to her, so she could see it was really him. "I... I looked for you everywhere. I know it's you," The blonde found herself easing into a nearby wall, it felt like her world was spinning. "You just left, you left me..." The female felt her lower lip quiver before she pushed back off the wall, her heels clicking as she strode closer toward him. For a tipsy, emotionally unstable woman, she was quick. The female strode in front of him, glancing up at the very man she had been falling for. Her large, oceanic blue orbs glistened up at him under the streetlights as tears stung in her eyes. "That's great, Finn. Really... fucking great." The blonde found herself feeling a bit more tipsy than she had been, all it did was loosen her emotions and give her some uneven footing.

    The blonde kicked off her heels before scooping them up, giving the man one last glance. "You could have at least said goodbye. I deserved that much," The female started to walk into the street before she paused, turning back on her heel. "I deserved better than checking in with hospitals and the police every week for a year... And... It wasn't even the best sex that I've had." It was a lie, but she wanted to hurt him the way he'd hurt her. With that, she turned and walked right into the man who'd been with her at the bar. "You okay?" He glanced from her to Finn. "I... I'm fine, now if you don't mind," The blonde tried to side step, but he seemed adamant on 'helping' her, keeping a hand curled around her upper arm. "Let go of my arm, right now." The female hissed softly, "I don't know you, and you're coming on far too strong. Go fuck some cheap whore, I'm not your girl."
     
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  2. NobleSavage

    NobleSavage Member Member

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    "Have you changed your mind yet, Finn?"

    Titus Larouche. The ruthless owner of the Maimed Maw Pub, and Alpha of the localized Bloodskins Pack. He was aged, from the wrinkles on his face and the crow's feet that raked from the corners of his eyes. The laugh lines that was more assumed to have been deepened by the scowl he sported more times than not. Built sturdy like a brick house, and just as wide. His steps creaked the old, weathered wood floors as he stalked over them. Rigid in it's predatory restlessness. A head graced with groomed locks of salt and pepper hair turned toward the scoundrel sitting in the beaten wooden chair.

    Dressed in a pair of black jeans torn at the knees from no seeking of style and simply acquired through use and work; he wore a simple black soft cotton v-neck shirt that contrasted with the white gold necklace chain that held a sizable white gold shark tooth, engraved with Celtic runes. The necklace he'd worn as long as he could remember, given to him by his father, once with a silver chain that he'd had to retire for white gold instead. Covering naturally tanned arms chiseled with refined muscle and decorated sporadically with ink, was the trench coat he sported. The empty sheath at his hip, from the blade Titus had requested he remove, it's soulmate was resting on the man's desk and kept away from threat. Finn was the foolhardy animal to carry a blade just as lethal to him as his kin. Every so often, eyes the color of underbrush in a damp forest would tick towards it. He felt naked without it, his loyal companion over the past few years. They'd leave the blade, only to look up to the man who'd called the meeting, the mottled scars of Titus' throat that described and explained the name of the pub. Remnants and reminders of his struggle to make it to the top, he'd said when asked. It only proved just how dangerous the owner was.

    Finn's nostrils flared with the exhale of breath that shook his chest, exasperated and tired. "No, Titus," he a gruff, deep voice broke his silence. Fingers sporting a lone ring of a titanium wolf, gaudy in it's appearance but it had caught his eye at a local shop. "I've told you time and time again, I will not join you."

    "Nomads don't survive for long, you know this." Titus' grey-blue eyes, the threat of storms brewing before the thunder crashes and lightning strikes, they flicked to the man sitting in his office. "There's strength in numbers. How long will you last out there on your own? I've granted you safe haven here. You're strong, you have potential. You're kin, Fi--"

    "I said," the stern, stubborn and partial growl of his tone came with a harsh stare. "No. Listen," he sighed. "I appreciate you granting me a pardon to remain in your city, Titus. You've been more than generous to do so... But I don't need your pack. I don't need your protection. I've made it just fine on my own so far, and I don't make commitments I'm not willing to keep," he murmured, casting his eyes to the side, a tension set in a rugged and bearded jaw.

    "Right," Titus sighed, rounding his desk to collapse into the worn and torn leather chair in a deep maroon shade. It creaked under his weight as he scooted it closer to his desk. "I could banish you, but I won't," he murmured. "You're free to stay, Loner. But I request you continue to reconsider my offer. It's more than generous and my patience only stretches so far... for so long." His heavy gaze fixed on the long haired gentleman across from him, his evergreen gaze that was earthy compared to his threatening horizons.

    Finn watched the dangerous man across his way, but chose not to deny him like a broken record. "I will continue to consider it, Titus. But I wouldn't hold my breath," he muttered gruffly, his hands fixing to the wooden armrests of his chair before he pushed himself to his feet. He was tall, but not overly so at an even 6 feet. Reaching forward, he was careful as he grasped the hilt of his blade to return it to it's sheath when he moved the flap of his jacket out of the way. "Enjoy your night, Titus. I'm sure we'll be seeing each other again," he snickered, settling the thick fabric of his jacket in place before he turned toward the door.

    "Of course. I'm a persistent son of a bitch," the old beast smirked from his desk.

    "I've noticed. Say hello to your mother for me," Finn jested, opening the door. He could hear the barking laughter from Titus until it was snuffed out by the closed door. Closing his eyes, he swiped his hands over his face as he started down the hall to leave. He only reached the opening, where the hall bled into the main room for the patrons. His steps halted immediately, his body rigid with tense muscle and bristling shoulders. His eyes had opened as they locked onto the blonde at the bar that dropped his heart down to his feet, that knocked the wind from him and almost made him choke on the exhale. Of course, she was as breathtaking as ever, but it wasn't what made his lungs burn with his inability to breathe.

    It was the blast from his past to backhand him across the face. His darkest shame manifested and all too real sitting no more than 5 yards across the way. Logic and reason had him quickly turning around, twisting on the heels of his weathered boots in a desperate attempt to leave before she saw him. Oceans of unfinished business surfaced like tidal waves in his mind and stomach, making him sick with what he'd done. And here he was, trying to leave without a word all over again. His hands shot out to push against the kitchen door, pushing through. The heads of cooks and the dishwasher turned to speak up, but they stopped with the flair of their nostrils. The kinship granted him passage, if not Titus' orders. He wasn't spoken to, or stopped as he made his way for the back exit through the kitchen.

    He only managed to slip out before he heard the calls of the cooks he'd just passed call out to another, and he cursed the heavens and hell alike as he hooked a right to start down the grungy alley, past the dumpster by the door that harbored unpleasant scents and old tossed out food from the kitchen. He only made it midway down the alley when he heard the call from an all too familiar voice, his breath raked like nails in his lungs to his ragged breath, catching in his throat. He pushed on, pretending he hadn't heard her, pretended he wasn't the one she knew, wasn't the one who'd betrayed her, wasn't the one she wanted.

    It was the call of his name that made his steps falter, the hesitation that gave him away. His eyes rolled closed as rigid muscle settled beneath his jacket, and the uprooted step was lowered. Stilled, stopped. It was less the name she called him with, but the plea in her voice that sent a sharp pain in his rib cage. "You shouldn't be here, Izzy," his rumbling baritone was soft, hardly a whisper that he doubted she'd hear... or even listen to if she had. He knew her far too well, and had no idea just how much she'd changed since he'd left. He winced hearing her words that lashed across his back still turned to her, like the whips and chains binding him, gluing him in place. He could hear her approaching him before she came around to face him, and his eyes averted from her. Unable to look her in the eye, and there was no question of who he was.

    His hair was longer, more grown out and a wild mane than it'd been before. His beard had never changed, and likely never would. It was unsettling how quiet he was, without his jokes and sarcasm to back him on this one. He had no defense for what he'd done, and he let her words sting him, hit him, grind his bones to dust hearing about what she'd done after he disappeared on her. His eyes closed with a sigh that flared his nostrils. She had deserved more than a silent goodbye, she'd deserved more than being ghosted, but he hadn't a clue of where to explain or start. He couldn't bring himself to come up with some half-assed story, or turn her against him, make her hate him to make his leave easier. He'd considered it, being cruel and harsh to get her to leave one night. To start a fight, and make her hate him so he could disappear, ensure she wouldn't give a damn that he was gone... but he couldn't hurt her. Physically, or verbally. Instead, he'd hurt her worse by simply disappearing. Causing her to worry and fret over him, for a year after he'd gone. His jaw ticked and his eyes opened with a hike of brow when she hit him with the low blow, and he snorted. "I guess I deserved that," he murmured.

    He let her get it out, say her peace. He released his breath when she started away from him, intent to walk away from their encounter. His head turned to glance down the opposite end of the alley, to the other street. He supposed he could take the long way home if it meant escaping this situation. It was the sound of the man's voice and Izzy's retort that had his head snapping back to face her. He saw the way the man had grabbed her arm, his insistence that was a little too friendly for comfort. There was only a moment of ticking brows, surprise, to the brazen retort from the blonde that seemed... rather forward, even for her. His jaw tensed, a rumble grating through his chest like boulders colliding as his heavy steps started in their direction. His eyes were fixed, intent, and intense on the man's face as his own hand snapped out to grasp his forearm, his grip a steel vice clamped right and worthy of bruising.. if not more. "I think she's made her point," he spoke evenly, calmly. But it was the kind of calm, the still air before a tornado came to sweep the neighborhood away. "I'd suggest you take the hint and walk away before I escort you to the hospital with a broken arm." There was no hint in his tone or expression that said it was an empty threat, but an all too real one. And the silent threat of or worse lingering in the air between the two men.
     
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  3. Iniquity

    Iniquity Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned Member

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    Isabelle was considering delivering a firm knee to the asshole that thought he was needed in that situation. The thought of someone even thinking that Finn would hurt her pissed the woman off beyond belief. Before she could deal with him, she could almost feel the power drawing toward them. As Finn gripped the male's arm, she could see the visible pain wince across his slick, almost reptilian features before the male drew back, suddenly releasing her. "Fine," He breathed in a callous manner before sauntering off like demon returning to darkness. Isabelle glanced up toward Finn with a hint of a rather surprised expression. "You've never threatened someone like that," Her gaze swept over him, there was something different about him. As she stood there, barefoot on the street with her purse and shoes in hand, the blonde couldn't help herself from drinking in his form. He had been... just fine. Shouldn't she had been just fine? Maybe she should've gone off with the reptile just to prove a point.

    The moon was high in the sky, not that it was granted much of a show considering the lighting in the area; what they did have was a gold tinted glow ebbing down from the old street lights. Isabelle's hotel was along the lit path, she'd be fine to walk back, at least in her mind. "Well... Thanks." The female finally managed to get out, her breath giving the scent of beer before she began to stride down the walkway. What a sight, a CEO walking back tipsy with her shoes in her hand, it looked rather shameful. Isabelle had only gotten a few steps away from him when she turned on her heel and marched right back to him; her delicate, feminine features were displaying a furious picture.

    "No, I'm not done." The blonde shook her head, causing some curls to glisten with the movement under the light. "I owe a reason. I deserve to know why you just... up and left. You left me, what we had. That was... It was becoming..." The blonde caught herself before tears began to form. "I was falling in love with you." Thick, dark lashes swept down for a moment as she tried to pull herself together. She wondered if he'd ever cared for her, if he'd ever been genuine with how they would laugh, how they would roll around in bed. He knew her intimately, and it felt like a lie. In contrast, she'd look far stronger than she did before. Isabelle's shape had fully flourished, she was toned and far fitter than she'd been before. There was a fierceness behind her eyes that had not been there before; it was there partially because of him.

    "You broke me, you don't get to walk away and live your happy life with whatever bitch you've got on the go," Isabelle was not a jealous person, she was not the type to throw such comments out, even in that moment. The alcohol helped, as did her insecurities. There was so much anger, so much pain just pouring from her. There was no release, no way to end it. The female continued just to gaze up toward him; there were so many thoughts going through her mind. In a second, she rose up onto her toes and slipped her hands up along his chest. It felt... familiar, even after all of the years. Without hesitation, she drew her hands up along his neck and around as her lips pressed up against his. There was no true force behind her kiss, it was far more tender, soft, warm lips brushing and caressing against his own. Out of the several things she wanted to do; showing him that she was happy he was alive at least had been the last on her list in her mind, but the top for her heart.
     
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  4. NobleSavage

    NobleSavage Member Member

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    Finn's eyes fixed solid to the man. Bold, intense, with no hint of backing down. He stood his ground until the other was the one to back away. His chin lifted, his hand releasing his arm roughly to let him walk away. "Prick," he murmured. At least the man knew better. Wolves would devour the snakes in the grass, pick their teeth with the bones. There was a moment of hesitation before he flicked a glance toward Izzy, clearing his throat as she called him out. "You've never been so... outspoken," he remarked, arching a brow high as he looked back at her.

    He had changed. There was a wildness about him, a primal ferocity tucked just beneath the surface of a familiar body. The stalking of a beast tucked behind the cage of human flesh. It was there in his eyes that wasn't quite as vibrant as they used to be, but harsher, more pained, experienced and hardly in a good way. They reflected the moonlight, the soft ambiance glow of the streetlights that flickered gold when he turned just right. A trick of the lights, perhaps? But from where he stood.. he could see he wasn't the only one who'd changed. Beneath the wiles of alcohol and tipsy sways, there was a woman who'd grown into herself. Who'd proved herself, and build a life of success. He'd only hoped she'd returned back to her plans and life goals after he'd gone, and in some aspects, it seemed she'd had.

    Seeing her turn away, he'd only nodded to her gratitude. "Don't mention it," he murmured, lifting a foot to walk away when he was stopped all over again to her reeling back for him. His head snapped in her direction, foot planting back to the ground as his brows soared. "... Of course not.." He sighed, defeated, as he tilted his frame to face her more completely. He waited for the verbal lashing, but this time it was more inquiring than a venomous tongue. His head tilted with a sigh, his jaw shifting. "Izzy... I know what I did. And I want to give you all the answers you want but--" He paused, hearing those words that caught his own in his throat. I was falling in love with you. It made his Adam apple jump with the harsh swallow, his eyes turning away from her to the street. But even when he wasn't looking at her, he was watching her in his peripheral. It was the safest way to look her over without being too honest about it. The subtle and not-so-subtle changes about her. In her eyes, her physique. It was admirable, to say the least.

    His gaze turned back to her when she told him he'd broken her. His head shook slowly. "That wasn't what I wanted. I--" His mouth opened and hung when she talked about some bitch he had on the go. His brows furrowed as his mouth snapped shut. No, she wasn't the type to toss those comments out and it had caught him off guard. She'd been sweet in her feisty nature before, but this was something altogether. He could hardly hold it against her, after what he'd done. And it was no question he'd hurt and angered her in how he'd left. "Maybe we should discuss this when you're less.. intoxica... ted.." He trailed off, staring at her as her hands lifted. This is it. She's gonna give me a good smack. Not that I don't deserve it... I do. And more. Maybe a punch. Wouldn't blame her for that eith-- oh fuck. Even his thoughts were cut off by her actions. She was surprising him left and right tonight, piercing through his armor and making him hesitate. It took every ounce of will power to not fall into her touch, and even his will wasn't strong enough to keep his lids from lowering to the memories she'd surfaced by smoothing her hands over his chest. "Izzy..." he whispered, warning but wanting at the same time.

    All these years apart, he'd dreamed and missed her touch. Against what he was sure she thought, it hadn't been easy for him to leave her. He hadn't wanted to. His eyes peered at her from a half mast gaze, watching her lips coming straight for his. This hadn't been something he saw coming, and it was another spear in his armor. Even the way her lips brushed his. The softness, the tenderness, the scent of beer on her breath that was more familiar than one would expect. Before he knew what he was doing, his head lowered to return the caress, his hands moving for her waist. His eyes rolled closed as strong fingers curled around her shapely, toned waist from all her efforts of taking care of herself. Unlike her, he was sober but no less soft and tender with his kiss. The kiss stirred both memories, and emotions he'd tried to swallow down beneath steel bars, and it made his pulse jump beneath her hands around his neck. A moment of lingering, hesitation, and his head tipped to press his forehead to hers before he was pulling back. "Iz..." He rasped out, trying to find his voice again after the kiss, his feet unsteady as he tried to put distance between them, holding her back with the hands that were wrapped around her sides. "I... can't," he shook his head solemnly. "Not like this," he murmured, averting his eyes back to the street. "I'm sorry," he whispered, his hands falling away from her waist. "It's good to see you're in good health," he told her, turning away from her. He wouldn't claim she was okay, or just fine. Truth be told, he wasn't either. But there was more a double meaning to her good health.

    You're alive.

    "I need to go," he told her over his shoulder as he started to walk down the street, lifting his eyes to the moon above and cursing it for everything it was worth.
     
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  5. Iniquity

    Iniquity Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned Member

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    His words had hit her ears, and she wholly wanted to believe in everything he had to say; hell, she craved it. Some part of her told her not to trust them, but she couldn't help but see the pain in his eyes. There was a pain in him that she could almost feel as her own, unfortunately, she could relate that kind of life changing pain. He had been hers, and she would never forget it. Even his soft whisper, Isabelle knew what it meant before she kissed him. And she refused to stop. The hint of want in his voice, it was so familiar and she missed it more than she could ever explain. Finn made her heart sing, he made her feel at home. The day he left was the day she was thrown out onto the street. In that moment when his warmth returned to hers, it made her feel whole. Even for a split second, just for a moment, the pain that she felt slipped away.

    An audible sound of approval hummed from within her as she felt his hands slip along her, the feeling of those strong digits holding her body to his was all she'd ever craved; to know that he wanted her, he needed her. He was her safety, her release from the world. Even in the way he touched her, the way he kissed her; it was as if no time had passed. There was no doubt in her mind; she still cared for him, she still felt everything she had done before, it had just been buried.

    As his forehead pressed to hers, the female took in a slow breath as she heard him call her the very same nickname he used to. "Mm?" A hum of warmth escaped her as she tried to reign in everything she felt. As he began to step back, the female whimpered softly, "Finn, no," The way he held her back made her hope that maybe he'd stay, she was wrong. As he tore away from her, his words soft, Isabelle found herself feeling utterly empty. She couldn't even contemplate the words he spoke, she was in utter disbelief. She'd found him again, he was alive and he was... everything he still had been, sure he was different but her love... it was like an ember burning, igniting as he touched her. The female stumbled back slightly as he told her he had to go, but he was already leaving her for the second time. A stifled whimper left her as she watched him walk away, swallowing back her tears as best she could. Isabelle was better than this, she was better than crying on a street looking like a drunk who lost her way.

    Eventually, the female found her hotel. The staff were kind and helpful as she made her way in. At that moment, she couldn't bring herself to care about what she looked like, or how her reputation was going to be affected. All she could think about was Finn, and what he looked like just leaving her in the street. She had never been walked away from by him, not like that. He had always been her home. Tears trickled down her cheeks as she made her way into her suite. Without hesitation she slammed the door and pressed her back to it, a squeal of pain leaving her as she fell to her rear, cradling her knees to her chest. A whole plethora of emotions ran through her, but none seemed stuck. It was a mess. She was a mess.

    Over the next hour, the female ordered wine and a variety of room service. First, the fries. The very enemy she'd fought while toning her body. It was a sad fact of life; nobody got as toned and as fit as she did with eating fries. They were soon wolfed down, joined by some cake. Red velvet to be exact. The lowest moment of her time so far was licking the icing from the plate. It was the only thing she could do, eat and drink. Even with the food she consumed, it wasn't enough to soak the alcohol up. A rather drunk blonde ended up in front of a mirror, staring at her reflection.

    "You... dess...errve.. better.." The female eyed herself, wide eyed and attempting to give herself a good stare. A small hiccup erupted, causing a great surprise as the female gasped at herself. "You're.... dunkk.." Another hiccup echoed from her before she gave a tired sigh. "He... I... Fuck him!" The blonde pouted genuinely, glancing down at the empty glass. A hint of strong scent liquor had been in there, it was clear that she had lost herself in trying to push away the dire need for the one she cared for. Oh, she'd had lovers since him, but nobody had ever meant anything to her. Finn.. he was the only one who managed to touch her heart. The days they would spend in bed, pizza, beer and all. She adored and loved every moment of it. The way they would play, nuzzle and end up wrapped up in the sheets for hours. He was her everything. He was her sanity. How she'd managed to live without him, she didn't know.

    The next morning, the female woke in a bed that was a complete state. Fries were awry, littered over her pillow and the floor. Pieces of cake seemed to be smeared over her chest, giving a reddish and slight white appearance. The female blinked slowly, the memories from the night before flooded into her mind as did the rather painful headache. "What..." The female glanced at the mess in her room, giving a soft sigh. Then, she recalled the very event that made her turn. "And to think I loved you." She whispered softly. Knowing who he was, she understood that her being intoxicated was a factor, but she'd never expect him to walk away from her like that. There was something.... different. She couldn't explain it, but there was clearly a change in him that she couldn't pinpoint.
     
  6. NobleSavage

    NobleSavage Member Member

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    Tearing himself away from Izzy was like tearing himself in half. All those years ago, leaving in the middle of the night with his maker's whispered words ricocheting in his ears... he'd left a vital part of himself behind with her. That thumping muscle that pumped life essence through his veins was left in the bed they'd shared on night's she'd stayed over. Nights entailing tangled limbs and sheets, tousled from horsing around and passion induced intimacy.

    I was falling for you. That was what she'd said. It had taken everything from him not to return the favor. I did love you, Izzy. I do. She deserved answers. She deserved reasons, and an explanation. Truth be told, he didn't know where to start. He couldn't begin to explain the change in him; the fear of hurting her to the point neither of them could come back from; the possibility of inflicting her on accident with his same curse. How could she begin to understand any of it? If he didn't experience it himself, he wouldn't have. She'd think he was insane.

    Hearing those two words sank his stomach to the ground, twisted it. Finn, no. He was leaving her all over again, and back then.. he might've stayed long enough to hail her a cab. Or walk her to home himself. He would've hugged her, kissed her, wished her well. But he could feel himself flipping, feeling himself spiraling out of control. If I don't leave now... I don't know if I can... It was the second time he'd said it to himself.

    The walk home had been brisk, impatient. He hadn't missed the confined four walls of his shady apartment on the Southside of town so much. The outside of the building looked more suitable than a methhead's den than any suitable living conditions. But it was low key, and hardly seemed worth breaking into or stealing from. Not that it would've been a smart idea to begin with. Much like walking into the dragon's lair, and expecting not to get swallowed whole or turned into charcoal. He wasn't the only Otherworldly denizen to encumber one of it's affordable cells.

    He'd slipped inside the building from the back door that creaked when it opened, climbed the stairwell to his third floor apartment with steps that grew heavier with each elevation. As much as he shouldn't, he felt exhausted. Completely drained, as if he'd run a dozen marathons at once, and his exhaustion was more internal than external. Reaching the door, one hand extended for the doorknob while the other slipped into a pocket of the trenchcoat to seek out his keys. Both paused as his nostrils flared, and his eyes rolled closed with the locking of his jaw, fighting back a growl. The familiar scent tickled his senses, and he pulled his hand out from his pocket. It wouldn't matter. The lock would be picked, he was sure of it. Twisting the knob, he only proved himself right as he pushed through, spilling himself into his studio apartment.

    The open space littered with scattered furniture, natural light of the moon filtering in through the large, panel windows from midway up to the wall to the high ceilings. His eyes landed on the raven haired woman sitting on his couch, settling her ice blue gaze on him. They were the kind of eyes to chill into one's very core, and her smug expression was bred from her genes. She was a purebred. She was settled into the corner of the couch, draping her arm over the back of the couch with a beer fixed into the palm of the other hand that was balanced on top one knee. The one that was crossed over the first comfortably. In the light, she looked like a moon goddess. With pale, almost radiant skin and plump lips painted red as blood. Her raven hair spilled straight down her shoulders, and she was dressed in nearly all black; from the corset top to her leather pants she wore like a second skin, tucked beneath knee-high stiletto boots.

    "Not tonight, Celine. I'm not in the fuckin' mood," he growled, his top lip curling with a scowl. His arm jerked to slam the door closed agitation, and the woman's head tilted with a purse of her lips.

    "What's wrong, baby? Meeting with Daddy not go so well?" She crooned, sliding to her feet with the stalking predatory grace she was born with. She bent down to set the half drank bottle on the coffee table, walking after him as he peeled off his jacket and draped it over the back of a kitchen chair.

    "Went as it usually did. He tried to con me into your pack, and I told him no. Not taking a hint runs in the family," he mumbled the last part, but it wasn't quite soft enough to escape her above average hearing.

    "I get it," she sighed, her heels clicking over the floorboards as she made her way behind him, slipping up against him as she smoothed her hands over his soft cotton tee, the ripples of muscle beneath that tensed under her touch. She ignored the growl that rumbled from the core of his belly. "You're skeptical. It's a big commitment to join a pack, but you don't have to worry, Finn. With my father's blessing, and my..." She quirked the corners of her mouth. "...Persuasion, you'd be welcomed with open arms. You're kin," she whispered to him, smoothing her hands down the cords of muscle to his more narrow waist, curling her fingers along his ribs. "You're one of us."

    Before she could wrap her arms completely around him, Finn's jaw set as his hands snapped to grasp one wrist, the other when he spun around to snarl in her face. "What part of no do you Larouches not fucking understand?" The grip he held her wrists with instigated a growl from her own, her fingers curling toward her palms as she settled her own narrowed gaze on the one he settled onto her. "I didn't kill my fuckin' maker just to become some fuckin' trophy for your pack roster," he looked her over with distaste, his hands shoving her back roughly as she took a stumbling step backward.

    She caught her balance rather quickly, rolling her shoulders to loosen the tension built from his aggression. The moon was edging closer, and apart from the blatant observation of bright moonlight filtering in through the dirty building windows, they could feel it radiating from their bones. The bright orb in the sky that crooned promising whispers to their beasts locked within their chests, pacing and snarling in anticipation to be released. No control, no holding back. Though they could change as they wished, the night where the moon shined full in it's orbit was the beast's night. There was no taming it.

    And she knew how to manipulate another's beast just as well as her own.

    Brushing off the glowering stare he settled on her, the snarl of bared teeth that rumbled like a motorcycle engine. Her head tilted as she gave him a sweep of her eyes, from boots to that desirable mane. "Wolves belong to packs, the lone wolf dies alone. And quickly. If you're too much of a fool to realize, so be it.." She lifted her head, shaking out her long black hair before she made her approach to him. "But how long are you going to keep pushing me away too, Finn?" Her hands snapped out to grasp the front of his shirt, the strength of her purebred blood overpowering his own in the moment as she pushed him back against the stove, rattling it with the impact of his backside. "Our wolves are calling for each other, can you feel it?" She purred to him, lowering her eyes over him as he grasped her arms and seemed ready to give her another shove. Before he could, she was quick to press herself against his firm frame. "Are you going to deny him as much as yourself?" Her eyes lifted to him, and what was once glacier blue was a tawny gold, sharper in it's outline at the edge of the irises.

    He stilled seeing that color in her eyes, feeling it doing just as she'd said. It called to the writhing beast inside the cage of his chest, clawing and snarling it's way to come out. "Celine..." He warned, sharper, harsher and far less intimate than he'd given another woman that night. He could feel his control slipping, and he didn't have to see it to know his own eyes were changing. Bleeding from their evergreen forest shade to the vibrant gold-orange that her and the moon's instigating incited. You're not the one I want..

    "Give into him, Finn. Loosen his chains, just a little," she whispered seductively to him, stretching up on her toes as her eyes fixed on his snarling lips. He started to turn his head away until he felt her fingers snaking up into his hair, giving it a sharp tug before her tongue lashed out against his throat. While he knew it wasn't particularly a threat, it was the cherry on top to rile his beast. To push him over the edge, to shove him further into his spiraling self control he'd been clutching so tightly to throughout the night.

    A sharp, loud snarl tore from his lips as his hands grasped her waist roughly, shoving her back but not away. His body rolled away from the stove to slam her back into the fridge, summoning a sharp gasp from her before the wolfish grin. Her fingers remained in his hair through the maneuver, her head turning away as his head lowered to her throat. Sliding her gaze to the side of his face, she rumbled as he bore his teeth to her throat, snapping before his hands circled to the zipper of her corset in the back, snaking it down with a jerk of his hand. "Good boy," she snickered to him, as he lifted his head and shot her a glare.

    "Shut your fuckin' mouth," he barked, irritation and anger flashing through his bright irises as his hands jerked her, flipping her around to face the fridge. She let out a yelp before she cackled to the force behind it, the power and strength before her palms fixed flat to the cold surface. Looking over her shoulder to him, then down to his hands as they went for the fastening of his belt. Smirking, as if she'd won, her hands lowered to unfasten her own leather pants to push them down past her hips and backside. While she did shut up.. the smug look on her face never faltered.

    Maybe if I close eyes, I can pretend.... He thought, even though he knew nothing in this world, no one could compare to the woman he'd walked away from tonight.
     
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  7. Iniquity

    Iniquity Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned Member

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    Local Time:
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    Despite her aching head and the carnage of the night before displayed in leftover carbs and sugar, the blonde know she had to get up. That deal wasn't going to make itself. With a stifled huff, the woman pulled herself out of the queen sized bed, her toes brushing into the warm carpet before she padded to the bathroom. A shower had never felt so... rebirthing. The headache began to ease under the cool water, and the sins of the night before began to fade. All she could focus on was just how miserable she was, how he left her standing in a street. Is that what she meant to him now? It couldn't be, she'd felt his warmth in his kiss; he'd embraced her. So why would he leave her if he wanted her? It made no sense. He told he that he couldn't give her answers; so what was holding him back? The very thought was devastating, what could be so bad that he had to leave her if he really did want her? As long as she knew him, Finn hadn't given in to such things.

    After some time, the female had washed and blow dried her hair in her usual loose curl fashion. The blonde had managed to dress herself in record time, instead of picking something especially formal, she chose to sport a rather sleek summer dress. It cupped around her breasts, curving around them and being held by two small straps before trailing inward at her hourglass waistline, then trailing out ever so slightly. It was a rather soft light blue, giving a rather gentle look. Next, she slipped into a pair of wedge heels. She certainly looked well dressed, even if it wasn't as professional as usual. With her casual look, she tugged her light blonde curls into a ponytail. This was going to be a rough day, she could already feel it coming.

    Time was ticking on, and Isabelle needed to do her job. The meeting was set for mid day, so she gathered her things and left the hotel promptly for ten. It was enough time for her to grab a coffee on the way and get to her meeting point and plan the introduction. Of course, she'd already prepared, but doing more wasn't going to cause any harm. She'd refresh the points in her mind and go from there. Her assistant wasn't with her on this trip, meaning that she needed to have everything on hand and ready to present, so far she couldn't think of anything she'd missed. It was perfect; aside from the devastating night before. Isabelle, now sober, could handle it more than she had. It sounded like there were several reasons he backed away, and she wasn't going to push him. If he didn't want her, she wouldn't try. Even though it seemed like he may have, maybe it was just how familiar she was, or what they'd shared. If he truly wanted her, he wouldn't have left her.

    As she settled down in the seemingly old school diner, she couldn't help but feel like she was being watched. Isabelle ignored it, ordering a coffee and browsing the menu while she waited. Soon enough, she heard heavy footfalls approach. The female rose up from her seat immediately, offering her hand as she saw a rather tall, broad man approach her. Compared to her five foot five petite frame, he was a giant. He had rather a lot of dark strands, christened with grey. It suited him. Immediately, the female noticed his necklace. It was something that stood out, it was beautiful. "Nice to meet you, Mr Larouche. I'm Isabelle Beckett, we spoke on the phone." The female eased back into her chair once they'd shaken hands. His grip was incredibly firm, it was just as she expected.

    With the appearance he had, Isabelle almost contemplated telling him that she didn't approve of illegal activity, but she kept her mouth shut. "So, Mr Larouche," She began as she started to flick through a folder in front of her. "Here are my referrals, you can see the staggering difference I've made to some businesses. I can promise you that you'll see a difference if you choose to hire me." The blonde took a sip of her coffee before peering toward him. She wasn't intimidated by him, and it showed. Isabelle was a woman of strength, even more so since she'd ventured out on her own. "That pendant of yours, it's beautiful." The blonde offered him a warm smile as she gazed over her notes. "The idea I had regarding your business was... clinging to the idea of something of a powerful wolf. I see the name is already leading to it. We could have icons made up, social media covered with artwork of your bar, promoting the rustic, wild atmosphere." The woman gazed toward him, seemingly truly interested. "So, is there anything I can clear up for you?"

    Once the meeting was over, it seemed that Mr Larouche wanted her to come to his bar later that evening. She seemed to have hit the right spot. Of course, she happily agreed. With the bill paid, they left one another with a promise to meet later that night. Isabelle unleashed a cheerful squeal on her walk out to the street, it was perfect.

    Later that night, the female was ready to leave. She had changed into a pair of black figure hugging jeans along with a loose, sheer white top that was rather loose and breezy. Coupled with it, she wore a nude bra. Thankfully, it seemed to blend rather nicely. Just like the night before, she wore reasonably tall heels, bringing her to five seven and causing her rear to curve up. The long blonde curls had been released to trail down along her back. She certainly looked the part. Once she set off, the trail began to unsettle her. It was... The same bar ? Her heart leapt. The night before, she hadn't even noticed the name of the bar when she stepped in. The female swallowed, hard. Before she stepped in, the blonde took a long, deep breath. "Heaven help me." The blonde murmured before forcing open the door and stepping in to the warm, rustic bar.

    "Mr Larouche, nice to see you again," The blonde beamed to her new client, offering a firm handshake before turning around to see there were more people than she expected. "I suppose you should fill me in now, I feel like I'm missing a chapter."
     

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