Kai Alexander Morgan

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Everything posted by Kai Alexander Morgan

  1. Blitz

    January 22, 2021 Sidewalk Outside Satyr Stadium, 9:30pm. And there it was. The most stupid fucking thing that could ever exist. Wind whipped its sharp breath once through the street, almost as if it had been reading his mind, rifling the edge of his dark hoodie enough to slip the hood from around his features. Gloves were pulled off, then the Navy beanie as the normally clear kelly green slid from the massive goliath he was looking up at. It was brazen, and arrogant, and apparently unstoppable. Bare fingers rifled through his hair a moment before pulling the skullcap back on and over his ears. He’d barely broken a sweat in the last five miles, cold gelling what little there was almost immediately on the back of his neck. Hood pulled back up, gloves back on, fingers interlocked to reach high above his head in a languid stretch before thoughts returned to continuing his run. Even the layers under his zip-up had done nothing to elicit more of a sweat. He didn’t know why he came… strike that. He knew exactly why. Hiding for so long. Forced to hide for so long. Hunted. His presence a death sentence for the woman he loved that was now out of his reach again if she ever mentioned what he was to those around her. Now, what the world hated and feared was on display for all to see. The blood, the infection… splattered all over the ring like it was a fucking joke. Money passing between hands to see who had the bigger fangs, and cheered in bars like a goddamn super bowl. Lips pursed, tongue running across a canine. Apparently it was okay now to pretend to be powerful and also be infected. He’d needed to put his eyes directly on the pompous monstrosity for it to be real. It blew the door wide open for every single fear the population had about the infected. For the Vanguard to have all the fodder they needed to continue its rabid hatred, for the those that came to him terrified and hunted to have more demons to run from. More suspicions and fear for some, less threat for others to think the whole Were infected community were fluffy toys to be bought and sold in swag stores. The question was, what would he do about it. Kneeling, he adjusted the laces on his right shoe, retying it before dusting off the knee of his black Adidas running pants. This was a fucking nightmare. Few, if any had the eyes he did… every weakness, strength and point of entry locked into his brain before turning them back to the sidewalk to decide which direction he wanted to go. A Colosseum worthy of an empire, a modern day Caesar. Two thousand years ago it took sixty men and twenty three stab wounds to take down a god. He only needed one well-placed bullet.
  2. Blitz

    Better myself than a street tart….. Cat quivered heavy in his gut, almost blinking from its slumber. He didn’t know her well, but she had sought him out for help once and thought enough of him to recognize him after all this time. The asshole remark toward her comment flicked at his ear like an irritant, it wasn't okay. Apparently though, his last words were enough to get his attention. Yes…. I do actually…….. …..especially….. for weres…. “No... you don’t.” His voice was gentle, it always was, in that place just above a whisper that sounded contemplative and forceful simultaneously. Some had described it to him as a commanding gentleness, others as silence before a storm. Either way, it had the timbre to be believed. The Were wasn't fucking around. He knew he was right, he was looking at two weaknesses at that exact moment. Trust me…… there isnt security like this…… anywhere…….. Cat ears picked up his words, response delivered absently as gaze traveled over the building again. “Unless you have cameras broadcasting the fights in reinforced steel boxes, they’re in cages. What happens if the Weres are tranq resistant?” Like him. “Cages aren’t enough.” Now he was straight up curious. He knew all the precautions, eyes came off a section of the stadium exterior he would be taking another look at later without anyone here, settling on the key clinker. Half the inquisitiveness was for what exactly the world thought a Were was capable of breaking through, the other was whether or not they had tricks he hadn’t thought of. Thus far, nothing for him had worked- and he knew his strength better than anyone. If he stepped in that cage, people would die. He couldn't believe he was the only one like him out there, and he wasn't about to watch people kill his kind because they thought they could contain them. “How could you possibly plan for whatever Were walks through that door…” the words were particularly to himself, reaching up to pull his Navy beanie closer around his ears and adjust his hood. It was time to leave and let the joker dig his own grave.
  3. Blitz

    "I'm glad you're still a good person in these shitty times." Most people seemed to delve into the black after the event, he’d forced himself in the other direction. He didn’t start as a good person… "I hope they fail too. Humanity has survived, and after everything, we're going to go back to this." “There are implications to this that are beyond what we can even imagine I’m sure. We like to stay under the radar for a reason.” He couldn’t remember if she knew, hell… did it really matter anymore anyway? Now the cat was out of the bag, and every infected thing this side of a zombie could be used to make money off of, or for. Would it come to the point no Weres would want to fight? Or would it go in the other direction? Narrow of the bright eyes was slight, pupils widening to thick black orbs at the scent of pure combustion. He’d heard the brute car from a bit out, but parking this near signaled it was supposed to be here. Scent was rolled over as the guy got out, the aggression clearly picked up. Hands slid into his pockets as he looked down from the monstrosity and toward the other that now occupied their sidewalk. No…. we are not taking registrations early….. Brow came down slightly. Just the idea that he was irritated enough to blather answers to non-questions at two complete strangers was telling. The interest was definitely there, and it didn’t bode well for Weres. No….. there are no early tours of the place…… No…… we don’t need to fill any jobs at the moment…. Yes….we are really opening next month….. No….. we currently don’t need any suppliers… "Here's a question you might not hear very often since you seem quite accustomed to those other ones. Why don't you go fuck yourself." He blinked, then looked to Pandora. Mouth opened slightly, then closed as he reached to rub the back of his neck before hands found his pockets again. That was as good of a response as any; his words would probably have been just as harsh. “No, you don’t have enough security,” his voice was calm, a gentle quiet as his eyes wandered over the place again. “Not nearly. For Weres. You’re going to get people killed.” But he wasn’t there to debate, he needed more time to decide what to do about it. It was definitely not a good idea to stay too long, especially now that his ire had a face. The cat would latch on, and once it latched, it would hunt. The last thing he needed was for his beast to break out on a rabid hunt to kill this meathead. Not yet anyway.
  4. Blitz

    He couldn’t say it didn’t tempt him. To let loose completely with the intent to fight without abandon was always something that seemed attractive. Accepted for the brutes they were… not hiding, or running. He was different though. If he threw a punch, even once, there was no turning back. He’d come so far, and the thought of disappointing those that he’d counseled and supported all this time was the one thing that was holding him back. Did that mean that a shred of humanity still existed? That he was unwilling to go back? Or was he unwilling to let himself hurt others? All of the above? Weres were Weres. Problem was he had been trained before he was a Were... He would kill things. There were no bells in the world that could be rung to call him off. It was, just a bad idea. This whole thing was a terrible idea. An odd thing about his old habits, they never stopped ticking. Each rustle of movement in a radius around him was always a blip on his radar. Add to that mortal sense, Were ones on top of it made life sometimes unbearable. Especially scents and colors, they were enough to send him over the edge. Someone was coming close, someone the cat recognized "Mr. Morgan?" The vibrant green moved in her direction, never forgetting a face. Names were fleeting, especially after what had probably been several years. Hers though, had been unusual, and at a poignant point of his growing practice. "It's a bit late for a run. Everything alright? The last time we spoke you were running a self-defense class to teach people to fight against the supernatural. I really hope you aren't thinking about fighting in these barbaric games for small minded people." His eyes followed hers back up to the giant building. “Never too late for a run. Pandora, isn’t it, if I remember correctly. Please, call me Kai,” it was so easy for him to smile, to look cordial, to feel cordial. “I’m still helping people, moved closer to Manhattan, expanded my practice quite a bit.” Fingers went up to pull down the hood, adjusting his wool scarf and tucking it neatly before pulling the hood back up. Sigh was quiet. “Honestly, I hope the thing fails miserably. All the work I’ve done… somehow I know though it won’t. Probably will be wildly popular. Demystifying the dangerous. I’ve got my work cut out for me I think. What are you doing out on this incredibly fine evening?”

  6. Land of Confusion

    Breathing had all but halted, twitched top lip over unusually pronounced canines for a mere human threatened to sheer off the white weapons... He was aware but not aware, frozen yet kinetic and urging to move in an explosion of deadly muscles, laughter echoing inside a hollow cave, the scent of shampooed hair mixed with metal and greasemonkey. Pancakes. Bacon and piano music. Smell of soap on freshly cleaned skin. Gun oil. His cheek twitched. Deep green, full of pupil watched her jump up. She knew he was there. Mack always had good instincts, but Mack was not Mack. Mack didn't jump, or sleep on park benches. He couldn't untangle himself inside. Relief, rage, uncertainty, empathy. His foot stepped forward out of the light, chest finally allowed to take the deep breaths he needed after running so hard. Hand on his hip, the other swiping the Navy beanie off his head and scrubbing fingers up the back of shorn hair as he "innocently" just "arrived" from a run. It gave him hope that his instincts had maybe started to do the right thing, the normal thing instead of crush a skull on impulse. "Mack?" It was audible, but so far away in his head. Play it like... everything was normal. Normal not normal. Normal without... well what they had become. Something was desperately not right. Gone without a trace that even he couldn't track. Months... "Mack, is that you? When did you get back?" Innocent. Easy. Cordial. In his head he was screaming.
  7. Land of Confusion

    Hooded green irises had been staring at the clock for almost fifteen minutes. What most would consider a regular object of methodical organization, he was going to smash into a thousand pieces in a few moments. The second hand had a lag that'd started around 4, late night back to back appointments kept him from fiddling with it to fix. Now, office assistant gone, gym closed, office closed, and every muscle was being held to a compressed quiver to prevent tearing across the room to destroy everything in his path to silence it. Depths of self control and rage were bottomless, the tangled fight leaving him still for sometimes hours. If nothing triggered action, he could take control. If agitated... something as little as a smell, or sound, all hell broke loose. Breathing. Slow. Sigh finally was pulled in, the balance of the internal battle finally tipped. Leather chair pushed back, hands on the dark wood desk as he stood. The battle was not over completely. The clock had to be silenced, and he would have to burn this off. Silent footsteps stopped at the shelf, finger delicately opening the glass face to stop the pendulum, closing it to the sound of gears ceasing to move the water torture that would have sent him into a rage two years ago. There had been a lull, when his world seemed to stabilize, now fully freight training again to an uncontrollable Were. The building was finally silent, the itch of agitation still sprinkling over his skin. Stepping into his personal bathroom, he changed quickly. Rugged runners, loose black running pants, a gray tee shirt peeled over his lithe torso. Black hoodie, fingerless gloves, black Navy skullcap. One key on a lanyard tucked into his hoodie. Hood up. Knife sheath on the inside of his forearm. Building locked, he bypassed his car for the alley and picked up pace. He had to run it out, which was next to impossible for a Were. Hours. Laps of the park spiralling inward, brain unconsciously tracking... irritation spiking, then resolving until a snap in his brain stopped the world on a dime. An entire demeanor snapped into mission mode, innocent runner instantly turning shadow and standing silently in the dark just out of the reach of the path light. Eyes on an occupied bench, brain folding over itself in scents it did and did not recognize.
  8. That which does not kill us makes us stronger

    Nostrils flared slightly, casual observer thinking he was just winded, closer inspection would see it couldn’t be further from the truth. He’d just given himself more information about her. Feline. The kelly green seemed to shift in color slightly as he blinked it away. “I have heard that is a beautiful country…I also think everyone is a transplant anymore” It was. “Now it’s full of dragons,” it was matter of fact and he had to snap himself back into the façade that everyone knew, gaining a relaxed smile as one was cast at Katy. “Yes, I think some information would be great. I am sure you both are so very busy especially with your own work Kai, so I do apologize for interrupting it, but I think this place might fit the bill for my needs.” An inaudible snap in his throat stiffened his hackles. Dominance. So that’s what this was, his cat was staking its claim. Most of the time in passing on the street glares were exchanged, but nothing ever came of any of it. Now there was one standing in front of him. On purpose. He knew he was unusual, the solitary Were particularly intolerant of others. He also knew that others were not and would pack with others. He’d never left any alive long enough to find out if that was his nature. Lashes blinked slowly as Katy almost skipped off to get Sage some information. His smile disappeared as he watched after her, then returned the flared pupils to the new member. “I want to kill you.” It was said so easily, not even a blink as the quiet sentence was passed to her. “That being said, there are few that can control it like I do.” Smile as he pointed out a cabinet to Katy’s questioning expression about the new paperwork revealed unusually pronounced canines switched on like a light. That’s what was tearing at him. He couldn’t hide, the switch between killer and the mask the killer wore was clearly visible to another Were. Everything he’d worked so hard to normalize, the animal he’d successfully been able to bury in a room full of humans was in plain view. “In the interest of full disclosure, if you stay here you’re in danger. No other Were I know would give you the courtesy of knowing.” It wasn’t the time to disclose the vaults just yet. He had to see if he could refrain from attacking her first. This was not good, not good at all. The feline didn’t know what he was feeling, was it death, the need for hot blood in his throat, the simple act of kicking someone’s ass into submission? …he was feeling very bitey, as odd as that sounded in his brain. He was rocketing back to a time when he didn’t care what he hurt, or who he took. He’d made so much progress…made so many promises… to someone he didn’t know was alive or dead. Teeth clenched in a long sigh, watching Katy return with the information. *npc* If you’ve made up your mind we can get you signed up right now!
  9. That which does not kill us makes us stronger

    The hackles. Every curse he knew in every language in kind flickered through his educated self, the primal self also reacted. Cat was alert, tail twitching in the metaphoric corners of his mind, and ready to kill. Kill was something he could not allow. It would ruin everything. Everything he'd built to sustain. After the mess of several months ago, the city was on complete and utter fucking edge. Any dream he'd ever had about fighting for some kind of equality and understanding was dashed for the moment. So. Control. Control over rage that was so potent even Katey seemed to unconsciously sense it, the concerned glance around the room a tell tale sign that even a human's primal senses could still be engaged. "Kai, that is an unusual name." "Welsh," he answered easily, a little surprised at how easily it did come. Maybe it was the self conscious need for his still present, yet faint accent, to be separated from the giant lump that was British- unless somebody was drinking themselves into a puking frenzy on St. Paddy's day or trying to be cool enough to wear a fucking kilt. The Welsh were overlooked quite a bit, and mistaken for everyone else. "Over the pond transplant I'm afraid." The handshake he dreaded became just that, dreadful, a full on baring of metaphorical teeth until his hand returned to his side. “I like this place you have here..." ....fuck "I am in the market for a new place to work out.” ...fuck... a duck. Say something Kai. Fucking Christ. He caught himself scanning the room, then glanced back to her, pulling the knit Navy cap he had on and rifling the shorn hair a few times. Skin was on fire. Obsessive thoughts of everything else than standing there at the moment and being polite were triggering through his muscles. She was feline. It was so much worse... "We're small, but get the job done. I can't lie, this gym is selfishly more for me than anything, I just thought there was a need for safety away from the general meatheads for my clientele base so I expanded. I teach self defense classes in the evenings, but my behavioral health offices are in the rear of the building. Antagonised, abused, assaulted, I counsel. Women mostly, though people who have been traumatised by the last ten years span all kinds, types and races." There was the jab. Now she knew he knew. Wasn't this nice? *npc* I can get you all set up if you like? Katey was the vision of welcoming. Fuck her hospitality. Goddamn it. Brain was ticking, unusually green eyes had become much darker, pupils large. Powder keg. A powder keg that wasn't going to blow no matter what happened. He was exceptionally at control. It was now up to the other Were to decide whether or not this was something she could bear. Other Weres could deal with their own kind, he, at this juncture, had never been one of them. Why in the hell had he built the vaults then? Wishful thinking? No.... a dreamer. The thought had always been philanthropy, now that one was standing directly in front of him, all that was beginning to crumble. They needed to talk, privately... but the world wasn't going to let that happen at the moment without definitive baring of identity. Fuck.
  10. That which does not kill us makes us stronger

    He could feel everything. EVERYTHING. The hearts of those spattered around the quaint gym pulsing, down to the vibration of the air when feet hit a treadmill. Focusing. Focusing. Making plans in his head to make sure he knew the habits of his patrons on the sign-in sheets and to avoid seemingly new members. It was bound to happen eventually, and Christ he’d built the damn vaults downstairs specifically to help other Weres. Problem was, he couldn’t be around other Weres. His brain, was logical. They were all in it together, he had to create a safe space for those like him to learn and understand their limitations so they could all survive and surpass the stigma. His gut, just wanted to rip out throats and roll around in their blood. The thought, raised the hair again on the back of his neck as he reached to turn up the speed on the treadmill. Muscles had already began to make the belt slip slightly forward as his strength pulled at the limitations of the electronics. He wouldn’t be able to keep this up for long without attracting odd brow quirks from other members. They knew he was the owner and was extraordinarily in shape… but… there were limitations to what a “human” could do. Teeth clicked on edge, eyes trying to watch the news on one of the overhead televisions. Aware… every move, every heartbeat, each bead of sweat. Katey giving the new member information, a tour… and finally- -blink proceeded feet stepping nimbly to the rails on each side of the belt in mid-stride to stop. Hands clenched on the railings, triceps twitching slightly under his tee-shirt as he watched the spin of the belt keep moving, chest heaving. He was growling inaudibly from the depths of his psyche, the powder keg so close to blowing. Katey was talking to him, introducing him, the owner, to… Sage... his top lip shivered slightly over unusually pronounced canines, still watching the belt. Head down… Just. Breathe. Katey didn’t know. It wasn’t her fault. The female Were had kept moving around inside his domain… there was no way she couldn’t know by now. Either she was taunting him, or… Lips pursed upward slightly to an easy smile, mask clicking on like a light, hand reaching steadily for the slide to pull the speed down to a fast walk. He stepped back on, picking up his water bottle for a long swig before responding. Control. As controlled as a compressed volcano. Fingers clutched the tee shirt over his stomach to pull up and wipe his forehead, setting down the water bottle and wiping his hands on the small towel hanging over the rail before he stopped walking and rode down to the end to step off. “Hello Sage,” he smiled easily with an outstretched hand and a swig of water. “Kai. What brings you here? Other than the obvious, of course.” Besides wanting to die?
  11. That which does not kill us makes us stronger

    It had become methodical, each stride perfect, a welcome lullaby to an OCD riddled brain. Breath was even in sync, much slower than he would have preferred, but letting the entire world know he could run flat for hours didn’t help much to blend into the new neighborhood. The whine of the belt on the new treadmill was a bit distracting to his nerves, power of his stride wanting to push it faster than the speed he’d set. Water was lifted from the cup holder without skipping a beat, watching the news. The rest of the place preferred to watch it CC, he could actually hear it when it was almost all the way down. Still talking about the giant clusterfuck a few months back. A whole new reason to hate Weres. It was everything they didn’t need, and required him to lock the place down tighter. That was exactly what brought the tick to his jaw as he ran on the furthest treadmill from the main door. Half a dozen were using the others at various speeds. The clink of free weights, even the sound of the showers in the small locker rooms on either side, tickled his ears with the burgeoning irritation. Katey, his gym manager was changing out the hand towels and wiping down equipment. Somebody was using way too much cologne in the men’s locker room. Eyes flicked to Katey and she nodded. She knew. Apparently people couldn’t read. No scents or cologne while in the gym. Owner had allergies, of course. Of course. He didn't want Weres in his place either.... of course that wasn't posted. It wasn't something he shared with anyone. They were everywhere however, walking amongst the normal. It was inevitable. Even though he fought for their plight, it was just something that brought him over the edge. First cologne. Now a Were. The cat that curled deep in his gut raised its hackles. The man, kept his pace and eyes on the news. Katey, being human, was just doing her job- greeting the woman that had just come through the door as she returned to the main counter. There was absolutely no way to tell her a Were was coming through the door. Katey was new, the woman had no idea who her boss was yet.
  12. Want to stretch ma legs

    Wanna play. Who's game?
  13. Want to stretch ma legs

    She would have to approach him in his office or use the gym he owns on the front half of his building for his self defense classes and general membership- but still couldn't guarantee he wouldn't track her down later. At his business, he'd play nice.
  14. Want to stretch ma legs

    Hmmm... Kai kills other Weres, no talking or reasoning, he just does. It's one of those inflexible parts of his personality. Let me think on it with Sage if that's the one you want to go with. There has to be a reason he wouldn't be aggressive.
  15. Want to stretch ma legs

    Doesn't have to be with Sage though, but would be interesting. Never actually had him meet another Were on the board.
  16. Want to stretch ma legs

    Kai is extremely hostile toward other Weres... he is committed to helping them, but usually doesn't deal with them directly because he flips his shit. Still interested?
  17. Brittle and Raw

    November 8th, 2019 3pm New York Center for Behavioral Medicine The light filtered through closed lids, breath controlled. Always controlled. Agitated, skin prickled. Not unusual, he always fought with it. Fought with sanity, fought with calm. Always fighting. Pretending. He was unaware fingertips had started to rub his temples, he didn’t get headaches, elbows resting on the grand mahogany office desk he was finishing his notes on. Fingers pushed through his hair to clasp at the back of his neck. Whispers floated past his ears. Dark. Fading in and out with the shadowed tendrils that were dancing in the afternoon sunlight filtering through his eyelids. *npc* Mr. Morgan, here’s the new roster for the next class. Inhale was sharp, lips almost sheared off his teeth as he looked up at her suddenly… unusually pronounced upper and lower canines always there. She was hyper sensitive to the mental health professional, very aware of what he was. Paper was brought back within her personal bubble until she assessed the situation. Thumb and forefinger pinched the bridge of his nose, a long breath taken before he smiled at her and reached out for the new list. [kai]Thank you. I’m sorry, I was up all night going through case files. The world isn’t going to get better on its own you know.[/kai] She smiled back and passed it off. He could lie better than anyone. Sociopaths could do that. It was such a terrible word, but it was the only word he had to describe himself. Especially lately. The nightly runs through the streets of New York to calm the agitation under his skin were starting to grind on him. If it was possible for him to be exhausted, it was now. He was painfully aware that in this state, he was just as dangerous. Physically worn down, the volatility was controllable. Mentally worn down, he was a powder keg. And this, whatever this was, made it worse. Months maybe. Felt different. The night. The moon, felt different. Fulls came and went, and it was always the same routine. This. Felt. Different. Routine would take him downstairs for five days in a few hours. Not a great plan, and he suffered for it. It was the best plan he had. Eyes narrowed on the window. Then it came, like a punch in the gut. Brows snapped downward. No. It wasn’t… no. Chair pushed back suddenly as he stood, muscles shaking under his skin. This wasn’t possible. Urgent footsteps only made it to the leather couch before the pain in his gut wracked him almost in two. Hand slapped the arm, knee hitting the floor. Nothing on this earth could take the Were down. Nothing. Except… [kai]Trina![/kai] Footsteps to his open office door were quick, incredibly confused. [kai]I need my case. NOW![/kai] She didn’t ask questions, appearing within moments to slide a silver case across the floor toward him, perplexed and incredibly terrified. He felt it bump his arm, back already on the floor in the euphoria before the excruciating storm. Trina knew the case was the panic button, and slammed the door behind her. The office was closed, the psychiatrist catching up on paperwork. She was the only other in the building. This wasn’t right. It wasn’t a full moon. Kai always clipped his extraction from the world close, but this was still too early. She trusted the man implicitly, but this wasn’t right. His door clicked open quietly, her eye peering in to see the unconscious Were on the floor. Nothing had happened. He was so incredibly still, seconds ticking by. Movement of his fingers made her heart jump. [kai]I can smell you…[/kai] Case clicked open, his eyes still closed a moment before flicking open and rolling to his side, a syringe with enough sedative to drop an elephant snapped between his teeth to pop the cap off and spit it out, [kai]GET! OUT![/kai] it was a snarl, an honest to god snarl, choking on her own breath as she backpedaled and scampered to the panic room. Suddenly on his feet, the Were's gate was almost drunk, stumbling out the door… slapping his hand on the panel that opened the elevator to the basement. Muscles were seizing so hard they threatened to break bone. Doors opening to the basement and scent of steel below. Shoulder hit the side of the door and he stumbled out of it, smacking to the floor. He was not going to make it to the emergency vault. This was not possible, it was NOT happening! The sound was sickening. Straight into flesh, the slap was merciless as the needle stabbed into the center of his chest, plunger depressed. Skull bounced once on the floor, the hollow echo incredibly loud in his ears, fingers going slack on the syringe that remained embedded in his flesh... the entire world swirling down a drain to complete darkness.
  18. Alright Biotches

    * rolls up sleeves and smacks hands together * Let's do this
  19. Alright Biotches

    Will be starting a thread, not sure if it will be open though. He's the only active Were, definitely need to chronicle the strife...and blood... and crazy... and death...
  20. Soooo the Blood Moon

    Yah. Kai is I believe the only Were in play so I think he should prolly jump in. Ideas? Anyone? ...ideas that don't involve mass amounts of people dying?? ..anyone? ...or mass amounts of property damage....
  21. Soooo the Blood Moon

    Not. A. Damn. Clue.
  22. Soooo the Blood Moon

    He dead center New York. Knows something's coming. I don't think his vault would hold him for this.
  23. Rise of the Blood Moon

    ..but....but.... *bats a ball of string*
  24. Rise of the Blood Moon

    *cackles maniacally*
  25. Cat and Mouse

    It was a noise he rarely made, deep in his throat, deeper than any human sound. There were times he had to remember he wasn’t human. No matter how hard he tried, scrubbed away the itch of nerves… he would never be human again. It was her odd sniff on the air at him that brought about the sound. A warning. A growl to incredibly sensitive ears. The cat was tolerant of the quivering and quick movements, but it was not to be trifled with. There was a limit to his patience and prodding, even though he seemed to have it under control for the time being. The strangeness in the air, made it impossible to tell whether or not that would remain for long. Itching, waiting for something to irritate it. …like a stomp of protest. Eyes narrowed to slits, licked only by the light when it peered through the trees. Calm. A breath was drawn in, then let out with equal control. ❥ "The nebo (sky)… you notice do you? Perhaps changes approach even now, even after all that has already transpired?" Focus was still for a moment, then gaze rose to the trees above and the split in the sky. [kai]There is no perhaps.[/kai] It was definitive. Where she was content to speak in questions and riddles, he spoke in absolutes. There WAS something happening, he could feel it in his blood. The Were was a part of the Nevus, he was made by the rip, had one foot inside to see things no words in any language could describe. It was horror and joy at the same time. Weakness, feeble and yet succinctly powerful beyond measure. He could feel it even now, humming in his blood. Pulling at the cat. Pulling at the cat. The moon was still too far off, but the sky pulled. The thought was a terrifying one. ❥ "Have the Zorja been lazy? Do you fear Simargl has fled the Littlest Bear and will consume all you know…?" His lip quirked quietly up at the corners, cords that lined the back of his hands flicking slightly as his fingers moved to flex and return. The man was formidable, lean and tall with a thickness that could only signal pure muscle lying beneath. The Were wasn’t at fault for that, the man was, the Were only adding to the effectiveness of the hunter. [kai]It already has begun.[/kai] When his voice fell below the normal speaking volume, it took on a timbre of fluidity. Harsh but gentle, vulnerable and warm, yet dangerous to the core. It was then he was contemplating, and then he was truly dangerous. It wasn’t when the lion roared that people had to watch their throats, it was the silence that lay before and after. In that time between times, decisions were made -sometimes in haste- that led to life or death. [kai]The changes are here, happening even now. I can feel its vibration.[/kai] Another deep breath was drawn in, watching the footsteps move away, and relishing in the fact he’d averted almost certain bloodshed. The cables however were wearing thin. Snapping one by one. Even he wasn’t sure how long it would be until the man no longer had control of the cat, and the sky would have everything to do with it.