Shane Marion (wolfishane) wrote in bellumlogs, @ 2010-04-28 00:27:00 |
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Entry tags: | big bad wolf, cheshire cat, red riding hood |
Who: Shane, Boyd, and Rick (group narrative going into log)
What: A clandestine meeting and getting caught out by the moon.
Where: The Old Woods Cemetery
When: The night of the moon.
Warnings: TBA
Shane had been waiting for Boyd to get in contact with him all day. Since he had no idea when she'd be able to sneak out of...where ever she was (a house, she assumed, from her description of the area) he'd been checking the boards all day, waiting for some sign that she would be able to leave.
The moon was that night, and he couldn't help but feel a bit on the apprehensive side when she finally did get in contact with him late in the afternoon. Sundown would be soon, but this was his only chance to see Boyd right now. He brushed over his worries. He could get to the graveyard and back before nightfall. And who knew when it might happen? It might not be until midnight, even.
Might, if, might. But seeing Boyd trumped everything else, so he left as soon as he got her message.
He made it to The Old Woods Cemetery in record time, and walked a short ways inside, sitting behind a gravestone. He could see the street from where he was, but wasn't in immediate sight. The place was mostly deserted, with the few remaining visitors straggling out as the sun got lower.
Boyd had crawled out the window just a few seconds after she'd messaged Shane on the forums. (The only thing she'd done before that was e-mail the anonymous attacker and call for a cab). She was wearing something belonging to Briton, Liz's eldest son, and wit her hair pulled back in a low ponytail and a knit cap on her head, she looked very much like a young boy walking down the streets of the suburb. The cab was waiting for her on the corner, and she glanced up at the house to make sure that Rosalie wasn't standing in the window watching her; she was always worried about Rosalie sending up an alarm of some sort. But the coast was clear, and she climbed into the cab, her khaki pants sliding against worn vinyl as she gave the driver the address of the cemetery.
To say things had gone badly with Rosalie would be an understatement. Her friend never listened to her. It was, actually, the problem with most of the 'adults' in Bellum Letale. When they saw her, they saw a little girl, and they 'decided' what she should feel, what she should do, what she should think - all in the way of parents.
Rick got the call as soon as Boyd's feet hit the sidewalk. Liz was an experienced mother and her family had been through plenty of hell; it would take a lot to ruffle her, and she was more amused that Rick had a little lost lamb on his hands than anything. She suspected Boyd had all sorts of problems, but it hardly intimidated her. She was happy to do Rick a favor as long as it didn't endanger her family, but she also knew he was acting strange and she had a sneaking suspicion there was quite enough danger whether or not she knew about it.
"She just snuck out," she said, when Rick picked up.
Exasperated sigh. "Already?"
"She's resilient, your girl."
Rick, who knew a trap when he heard one, didn't reply, just snorted with derision. Liz sobered. "What are you into?"
Rick disliked lying, so he didn't. "I'm not far, I'll see where she goes."
"I'll call Trent back then."
"Tell him thanks." He hung up on her before she could say more. Liz shook her head. She was going to find out eventually. She had no idea why he bothered. She dialed her husband, who had put on a coat and trudged out behind the house to intercept Boyd at the corner. It was sad how this felt like a well-practiced drill. Liz could remember hearing the porch creak under the weight of her oldest son when he tried to sneak out to meet his friends and dealers. It made her feel old.
For his part, Rick did a fine job of keeping his temper. He found that the moon's influence made him more patient with human eccentricities, and he was idly curious as to where the girl would try to go enough to follow her rather than immediately intercept. It would be easier to find her if she ever did manage to sneak out on Liz's watch.
The old Chevy Nova had no difficulty shadowing the cab to its destination without detection, and he drove off down the block to disembark, go unseen, and walk into the winding maze of headstones. A graveyard. Brilliant. He was downwind, leaning in the shadow of a mausoleum with gleaming rose windows, when she arrived at the entrance. Now to see what--or who--she was here for.
Boyd had never been in the cemetery, but she wasn't afraid of them at all. Amazingly, there were fewer haunts here than in other places. The dead, «i»Boyd's«/i» dead, didn't hang around their bones; they hung around their people. Despite her recent additional workload for the Family, she'd still been going to her psychology class, and she was fascinated with the thought that they might not be haunts at all, but memories or auras or energies left behind. School was hard, though, with all the meds in her system. It made her laugh a little that she was sneaking out to meet a wolf, and not sneaking out to buy drugs (as everyone apparently expected her to do). She tugged the cap further down over her ears, the grey khakis and faded, black boy's tee helping her blend in (the long end of the ponytail down her back swung in the moonlight, however, and made tracking her easier).
Boyd was just inside the entrance when Shane spotted her coming his way. He didn't come out from behind the headstone until she was close, and, when he did, it was quiet. His clothes were as dark as usual, and something about the moon made him blend a little better with the shadows, blue eyes catching the high gleam of the sunset. "I like the hat," he said, softly, careful not to startle her.
Despite his best attempts, she was startled - something about waiting for someone to jump out and kill you at any time, maybe. Still, the second his voice sunk in, she ran to him and practically pounced him in a hug. It was affectionate and not even slightly sexual, but she still tensed a little at first as her arms wound about his neck. The unease was gone in an instant, though, and she buried her nose against the crook of his shoulder. It wasn't dark yet, and the moon was still an hour away, but Boyd had forgotten all about the full moon in the rush of sneaking out and planning and arguing.
He held her close, head resting against hers, for what felt like a very long time. Having her near and not in a hospital made him feel calmer than he had in weeks. "Glad to see you up and about," he murmured into her hair, voice low and a touch accented. It was an understatement, surely, by miles. The oncoming moon slipped down his priorities list as soon as he had her in his arms.
She had to stretch on tiptoe to bury her nose against his skin, and she tensed for a moment when he held her close, but that tension melted away a moment later also. "I'm always up and about," she teased, though her voice sounded tired, even as she made the claim. "Your accent's showin,'" she told him, tugging back a little so she could see his face in the waning sunlight. "Do it again."
He felt the tension, and was about to loosen his grip on her when she relaxed. A relief. He remembered how much she'd been shaking at the hospital, noting that he was going to have to be careful with her. "I missed you," he said, dropping the covering American pretense, since she'd asked. "Did you have to come far to get here?" Already, he was thinking through a way he could accompany her back to where she was going, make what time they had together last as long as possible. His accent, when he wasn't busy hiding it, was lighter than it had been when he was young, a little softer, since he hadn't bothered to cover it until he was a teenager.
The lilt of his voice made her smile, a tired-wide thing that hid nothing. She looked pale in the moonlight, and she placed her palm gently against his cheek. "I missed you too," she admitted. "Like a wild thing." She might as well tell him, since it was the Family that was going to get her in the end, not Vaughn as she'd initially thought. As long as no one knew he was talking to her, he should be safe. "I didn't wanna cut you off ever, ya know. You weren't so easy to convince, though, which wins ya points." She said the last bit with a teasing smile, and she moved her hand to his stomach, keeping it over the shirt, her fingers shaking just a touch.
He looked down at her, slipping his free hand over hers to steady her fingers. "Sometimes it helps to be stubborn," he said. "Are you going to tell me what happened?" He had his other arm around her still. She smelled a little unfamiliar, like someone else's house, cooking smells and the owner of the borrowed clothes, but underneath that still very much like herself. He glanced up. The sun was only just on its way down, so they likely still had a while.
"Which part?" she asked, because their were lots of them. She stepped back from him, and she slid up onto a headstone, where she could see him clear in the moonlight. "It's a funny thing, but there ain't no haunts here."
"Why you cut me off," he said. He leaned against the headstone, close to her but not quite touching. She seemed like she needed a little more space than usual--and since the usual was close quarters almost all the time, even this close seemed a ways apart. "Better things to do than hang around graveyards?"
She grinned at his question, and she ran her hand over his chest, smoothing the fabric of his shirt as she spoke. "Things just got complicated, sugar. That's gonna have to be enough for you right now."
He gave her a look that said he was going to argue, then didn't. He had her here-finding out what had kept her away from him could wait. "Alright. But soon." He watched her while she ran her hand over him, thoughtful.
"You going to tell me how you are, really?"
She tugged the cap off her head, and she stretched up and slid it onto his black locks. She smiled as she tugged it down over his ears, forcing him to bend down a little so she could fuss, her own hair messy in the moonlight. "I'm pretty bad off," she said honestly, pushing a few locks of hair off his forehead, then skimming a finger down the bridge of his nose.
He let her fuss as much as she wanted, smiling a little when she put the hat on him, and he kissed her finger when it passed, but his eyes were dark. "The place you're staying. Is it helping?" If it wasn't, he was getting her out of there and finding her somewhere else to go, somewhere away from Vaughn. And the Family, for that matter, since he was still pretty sure Rick had something to do with them.
"It's just a place, Shane. It ain't a fix, and I'm not gonna hide there forever. I actually hate it, the hiding, but it was better than the alternative," she explained. She bit her lip, and she hesitated visibly, obviously trying to decide on something. "Kiss me?" she finally asked, very soft and very unsure, fingers shaking just a little when she asked the question.
"You should be somewhere safe," he said, but any further protest was cut off by her request. She looked so nervous that he nearly refused, but maybe she needed to. Maybe it would help. Either way he took things slowly, kissing her after a moment of taking in that shaking vulnerability. It was barely there, just a brush of lips, that said she could back out any time she wanted.
She did back away at first; not far, just enough to put a hairsbreadth of distance between their lips. Her breath was warm against his mouth as she waited, obviously trying to work up courage stowed deep. Then she pressed her lips to his again, and she kissed him slowly. Her shoulders went tense, and her fingers curled in on themselves against his chest at first, then she slowly relaxed, until she was kissing him back without her lower lip trembling and her spine being ramrod straight.
He wrapped an arm around her as she gradually began to loosen up, trying to reassure her. He was going to keep her safe. He was going to make sure no one touched her. Not now, not ever again. He thought of sinking his knife into Trenton's flesh and kissed her a little deeper. He wasn't going to hurt her. No one was.
She melted into the kiss a little, and she tugged down on the sides of the cap he wore as the sun started to set behind them, and she was completely unaware of the time.
Rick sounded annoyed--and that's all there was to go on. "There are better places for this."
Shane broke away from Boyd immediately. He didn't let go of her, in fact holding her a little tighter, turning to follow the source of the sound. There was no one there.
His first thought was that the voice might have been one of Boyd's ghosts, but it was one of those irrational, panicked thoughts that came when still startled. No, the voice sounded familiar. It sounded like...
He narrowed his eyes. "Want to come out where we can see you?"
Rick didn't bother replying to that.
Boyd just rolled her eyes. "Quit that," she said to nothing at all. "Who tattled on me?" she didn't sound scared or worried, but she didn't tell Shane who it was either. She had promised, after all.
"Maybe I just knew you were going to be a little idiot and wander out?" he suggested. Now his voice came from the opposite side.
Shane caught his scent at last. So he was no ghost. No, he sounded like Rick, the guy from the phone.
He let go of Boyd, checking around the back of the headstone where the voice had come from, but there was no one there. "Good trick," he said, tone measured. "But you can quit hiding like a coward any time."
"Come out," she told him. "He isn't going to say anything, and he isn't dangerous, and he isn't stupid like Rosalie. I warned him, and he understands," Boyd explained to the empty air, as if talking to nothing was a regular and normal event. "Rose is gonna get us killed anyway. She's talkin' to everyone, and she told Shane we were together. If she told him, you know she's told other people. We might as well give up." She said this last bit in a very resigned manner, because she was sure there was no out from this situation she was in.
"Are we talking about the same Six-oh-one?" Rick asked the empty air, three feet in front of them. "He isn't dangerous?" Rick pretended this news about the blonde--Rosalie--didn't bother him, but it did. His voice sobered. "Has she told anyone where you are staying?"
"Not that I know of, but if people know she's with me, she's gonna end up with a price on her dumb blonde head regardless, ain't she?" Boyd asked the empty air. She leaned back against Shane protectively, even as she spoke. "601, and ain't nothing allowed to happen to him. He's real delicate."
"No, they don't care about people you talked with, they're convinced you don't know anything," Rick answered, distractedly, from the same spot.
Delicate? He looked at her askance, but then his attention went back to Rick. "Who are 'they'?" he asked, even though he knew very well who 'they' likely were. "And why is Rosalie going to have a price on her head?" Shane didn't look particularly dangerous, not at first glance, anyway, though he felt ready to pull Rick out from where ever he was hiding and get some answers from him by force if necessary-likely the wolf's influence, as the moon got a bit higher.
Rick didn't notice the moon rising behind him. Thoughts of the Family slipped away, very slowly, and though they lingered, they did not seem so dire. "Maybe it's on sale," he suggested. He had moved again, and a tree limb shook as he stepped over it.
Boyd went to make a smart ass retort, but the glow of the moon at her back made her turn, even as her clothing changed to the now-familiar red hood, white child's dress and black mary janes.
Her head turned slowly, oh so slowly, and she looked at Shane.
Shane's head snapped up when he caught movement out of the corner of his eye, and he watched the tree intently for further movement--as such, he didn't notice right away that Boyd's clothing was changing, and by the time he did, it was too late.
"Boyd--" And then the moon hit him as well. He was on the ground before he had a chance to say anything else, with fleeting thoughts about this being far too soon. They should have, must have had more time. It couldn't be now, because Boyd was here and they were outside. There were people he might hurt, and he should be locked in 601, and Boyd should be running-
Then those thoughts evaporated under the blistering pain, a brief, mournful howl all the warning he could manage before he couldn't make a sound for the agony, hands rapidly becoming paws clawing at the grave soil.