Úrsula Caldeira thinks she's awesome (ex_shebear839) wrote in blurred_lines, @ 2009-04-07 19:08:00 |
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Fenrir paced around his tent, growling under his breath as he waited for Úrsula to get there. He was feeling unsettled and irritated, partly because the full moon was in a couple of days and he was impatient for it, wanting the transformation, wanting to hunt. But he was also bored out of his brains. He'd been sitting around doing bugger all for far too fucking long and he was sick to death of it. He wanted to get out and cause some chaos, kill a few people, even get after Lupin and his bitch again. But he couldn't because of this stupid 'rehabilitation' shit. He knew in the long term it would be worth it. He'd have his freedom and it would be 'legitimate'. He'd be able to walk down Diagon Alley without a care in the world and fuck if he didn't intend to do just that the first opportunity he had. He needed a new wand anyway and he hadn't been to Diagon in ages. Maybe he'd even be a 'respectable member of society' and buy himself some new robes. Though... that'd be fucking tedious. It was alway easier to steal them. He threw himself into his chair, ignoring the way it creaked at the abuse, and slouched down for a moment before his restlessness forced him back up on his feet and he started pacing again. Úrsula was somewhat confused as to why Fenrir wanted to see her. She had the vaguest of ideas, but that wouldn't be that big of a deal, right? She had every right to have a civil conversation with someone. She was just as bored and restless as the rest of the pack. She hadn't said anything particularly incriminating at least. So she walked to Fenrir's tent, hands shoved into the pockets of some new jeans she had "found" a few days prior, bare feet kicking rocks as she went. Finally ducking into Fenrir's tent, she straightened up to her full (lacking height) and looked at him curiously. "What's up?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. Fenrir whirled around when Úrsula walked into his tent. He didn't even blink at the lack of knocking or anything like that. It wasn't like he had anything to hide in here or much more than anyone else. He was a fucking werewolf, not a poncy pureblood who needed half the shit in the world to validate their existence. "None of this boring rehabilitation bull fucking shit?" he snarled without any sort of preamble. "What the fuck do you think you're doing? Especially saying that to that Pepper fucker." "Well, I am," Úrsula spat back, rolling her eyes. "As far as anyone knows, I am not being rehabilitated yet," she continued, crossing her arms over her chest defensively. "I'm merely playing the part of the disenchanted werewolf whose pack leader has run off to get coddled by the wizards." This was a lie, though she was feeling more and more annoyed with the wizards and their questionable abilities to keep a promise. "I'm sorry I said anything to the kid though," she continued, gritting her teeth slightly. "Yeah, right. Course you are," Fenrir said with trenchant sarcasm. "I know it's fucking boring as all shit but there's a fucking purpose behind it." Or at least there had better be. The thought that maybe the Death Eaters were jerking him around and just stringing things out to keep him out of things and sideline him now they had their boring little utopia had been coming to mind more and more of late and was quite possibly adding to his pre-full moon irritation. "Saying shit like that just gives them ammunition for proving that it's all a crock of shit," he growled. "You're not supposed to be whiny about the whole fucking thing, you're supposed to be pretending to be interested. Unless you want to hang out here for the rest of your fucking life." Úrsula growled slightly at his tone. "Yeah it's been three fucking months and nothing's happened." Her own irritation was rather quickly mounting and she took an unconscious step towards Fenrir, straightening her back and staring up at him with a look of mixed defiance and annoyance. "I think I would much prefer hanging out here over rubbing shoulders with the elite, cigar-puffing sexist fucks who are making us wait so fucking long, yeah," she said bluntly. "Whatever they're promising better really be worth it." Úrsula had either inadvertently or deliberately hit on the precise thoughts that had lingered in Fenrir's mind more and more frequently as the days passed. The problem was he didn't exactly have anyone he could ask. He figured that even Rodolphus would lie to him on this subject. When Úrsula stepped forward, Fenrir felt his metaphorical hackles go up and a low growl began to build in his chest at the apparent challenge to his dominance. And that was probably the catalyst behind his next statement, which was only partially true and entirely provocative. "Not your place to be fucking well questioning them." Úrsula's temper flared, her hands dropped to her sides, curling into fists. "Not my place? I'm sure they'd say the same thing to you if you asked them how much longer it would take. I'm not sure where the fuck you think my place is but I'm well within my fucking right to question whoever I want," she snapped. This wasn't completely true and on a good day, Ursula hardly questioned anyone. But she was frustrated and angry and while taking it out on Fenrir, of all people, was an awful strategy, she could hardly help herself. Now Fenrir's pack instincts flared fully into life and he all but forgot why he'd called Úrsula into his tent. The proximity of the full moon made them all snappish and snarly and generally spoiling for a fight. He moved forward, getting right into Úrsula's face and snarling at her. "Your place is in my pack and you don't fucking question me." He lashed out with one hand and smacked hard up the side of the head. Úrsula stepped back, a little dazed from the blow to her head, looking at him with a dropped jaw and narrowed eyes. After a second of consideration, she growled. "I wasn't questioning you," she snapped before lunging and driving her fist straight into his abdomen. "You smack like a woman," she added. Fenrir barely heard what Úrsula said but he did feel the punch. It got his blood going even as he grunted and his lips parted in a snarl/smile that showed his sharpened teeth. Yeah... this is what he wanted - a fight. Something to get the blood going. He didn't give a shit about the rest of it. "Yeah?" he growled then grabbed her and headbutted her. "How about my head butts?" "You're going soft in old age," Úrsula said, nearly laughing. Aiming a punch for the side of his head, she stepped out of "headbutting distance" (that shit had hurt!). Then she quickly followed her own punch with a kick to the chest that nearly knocked her off balance. Fenrir grinned savagely as he blocked her punch. "Fuck off," he growled. Her kick made him grunt as it caught him by surprise but not so much that he couldn't grab her ankle and yank her further off balance. Thrown completely off balance, Úrsula fell flat on her back, the wind knocked out of her. After taking a second to catch her breath, she kicked straight out into Fenrir's ankles as hard as she could. "No, you fuck off," she said after a moment, slowly pushing herself to a crouching position. The kick to the ankles knocked his feet out from underneath him and Fenrir went down hard, knocking the breath out of him for a moment. His eyes were alight with a feral intent as he grinned. "My tent. Can't fuck off," he said as he got his feet underneath him a little and launched himself at Úrsula. Úrsula fell back with a thud and a grunt, her leg kicking out rather wildly, connecting with his abdomen. "Then back the fuck up so I can fuck off," she said through gritted teeth. Though it was clear to everyone she was enjoying herself. |