Mercedes is sinking like a stone at the (reservoir) wrote in repose,
In the trees: Mercy/OPEN
Mercy couldn’t remember the last time that he’d been to a party that wasn’t held in a frat house or somebody’s dorm room, and it showed in the anxiety and the indecision that had him strung tight. College parties had been all about means to an end. People just wanted a place to drink, to get stoned and to hook up in dark corners or a stranger’s bedroom on top of a pile of coats. It was never about the ambiance, and socialization was extremely secondary to getting as fucked up as possible, quickly and efficiently. Maybe going home with somebody hot, maybe just passing out on a seriously questionable couch and getting a Sharpie makeover.
Ultimately he had gone to those parties because it was better than staying in and watching Netflix, but most nights only barely. As far as drinkers go, he had never really been a big one, and he passed on the joints because they made him crazy paranoid, man. But drinking beer and playing Mario Kart with frat bro douchebags was surprisingly fun when the frat boys were terrible, and cross-eyed from too many beer bongs besides. So Mercy had usually tagged along with his roommate, or one of their friends from class, and sometimes he went home alone to their dorm and sometimes he brought home a girl whose name he wouldn’t bother to learn.
But before that? Before college, there hadn’t been a lot of parties. Maybe the occasional cookout on the rez, or somebody’s wedding. But a lot of those came and went without an invite extended Mercy’s way, because most of the wolves hadn’t liked a coyote in their territory and it usually wasn’t a good idea to antagonize them by showing up anyway. Which meant that he’d done exactly that, and often. Naturally. He’d gotten really good at sneaking past the party perimeter and stealing a few beers for himself at a time, then holing himself up somewhere safe where he could drink alone and watch from afar.
He knew that he didn’t have to sneak into this party, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t been anxious about it anyway. And old habits died hard, okay? He hadn’t even decided that he was actually going to go, until his second or third lap around the outermost fringes on four legs. As a coyote he ran with his nose nearly to the ground, but he hadn’t smelled any wolves nearby yet even though he knew there were some in town. And there was definitely free beer. Both factors that had a hand in Mercy picking a spot among the trees where he could hunker down and drop the bundle that he held in his mouth: jeans and a pair of Converse, wrapped up in a nothing-special hoodie.
Mercy’s shift was quick, just a blink between coyote and kinda lanky, very naked dude standing in the woods. He grabbed his jeans first and had just finished pulling them up over his hips when he heard a twig snap under somebody’s foot, too close for comfort or plausible deniability. He turned and peered into the darkness with eyes that were too human to afford him any particular advantage at making out the approaching figure. “Uh, would you believe me if I said this isn't what it looks like, man?”