[ M ] put your ear to my heart or set your teeth against my throat

This forest is confounding. She swears the branches are reaching for her, clawing at her fur, closing in on her—Senka tears through a particularly unforgiving patch of underbrush, and the world changes. Whatever magic lived in the lagoon at least takes the rest of the dampness from her fur, which is a damn good thing, considering the fact that she's found herself suddenly in the middle of a blizzard. She falters, her gait hitching, throwing a look over her shoulder and finding nothing but a wall of snow, and no indication of where she is.

Fuck it.

Hoping that the inexplicable events of the evening will keep Odysseus nearby, Senka picks up speed again, though she doesn't careen as recklessly as before after a few close encounters with towering trees have her narrowly avoiding them. They're somewhere in the Redwoods, she thinks, but she doesn't know the area well enough to pinpoint with more accuracy—and just now, she doesn't care.

Don't let me catch you. Challenge accepted. If Odysseus wants to drive her to the bring of insanity again, feral and uncontrolled, then she'll give it to him—she'll let the adrenaline cloud her mind and let him dig his way further into her heart, relentlessly and with abandon.

how strange,
to dream of you

even when
i am wide awake

code // art

fangs out in the moonlight

Senka hasn’t failed him before and she didn’t fail him now. Even with a million questions in her eyes, she didn’t disappoint. Without a word, she took off, racing up the banks with water splashing after her until she hit the tree line, doing exactly as he asked. For a moment, Odysseus simply watched, all too aware of how similarly the two women were colored in that moment, as they both ran from him. Reality blurred as he took the moment of solitude to falter. They each ran for entirely different reasons. What in the actual fuck just happened. After all this time, Isolde just shows up out of the blue with uncanny timing to find him losing himself in Senka. Inky lips lifted in a snarl. It wasn’t that he had been caught or who he’d be caught with. He'd let her catch him again and again. Isolde played the victim, acting as if she had no part in how they ended up here. It was her fault. How long did she expect to take her continued rejections?

When he finally moved, following in Senkas wake, not Isoldes, he was slapped in the face by a blizzard. The lagoon was simply gone, taking with it its warmth and comfort. It was sobering, but not even Mother Nature could full extinguish the fire that blazed in his veins. As the wind yanked on his fur and nipped as his skin, he tossed his head back and howled. His song filled the frozen air, shattering the redwood with his fury.

It wasn't until he raced past one particular tree that he finally figured out exactly where they were. Home. It was nearby. Shelter from the blizzard wasn't far off. But he couldn't go home yet, he had given Senka very specific instructions. Now he had to catch her.

Tracking wasn't easy in the storm - all he could hear was the roar of the wind and her perfume was everywhere and nowhere all at once. Unluckily for her, this wasn't his first time hunting. With his head ducked low, Odysseus did what he did best.

"speech"

code // art

Wind whips through her fur, chilling her down to her bones, but Senka doesn't care; her heart is thundering, her breath coming in rapid pants. The drastic change in temperature has her lungs burning, sucking in bitter cold and puffing out heated clouds in her wake. The snow works to her advantage, covering her pawprints moments after she leaves them behind her, but it also hinders her, stealing her visibility and slowing her pace.

A howl sounds from somewhere beyond the storm, and she knows he's here, hot on her trail.

A shiver ripples down her spine, heat flaring in her belly as she pushes herself harder, her head ducked against the snow and ears slicked back to her skull. Senka narrowly misses another tree, her shoulder colliding with it as she passes, but she doesn't slow. Odysseus has given her a challenge, and she's certain he knows her well enough by now to know that her stubbornness will force her to see it through.

She won't let him catch her, but the eventuality is there, and the reminder of her inevitable doom sets her adrenaline soaring.

how strange,
to dream of you

even when
i am wide awake

code // art

fangs out in the moonlight

Don’t let me catch you. His own words echoed in his skull. Dark jaws parted in a pant, sucking freezing air into his warm lungs, burning the delicate tissue until his lungs ached. His paws were numb, caked in the snow with each stride that brought him closer to his target. If he stayed close enough, it was easier to keep track of her. Today, he wasn’t interested in the longevity of their game. The sweet taste of victory lingered just out of his reach and he was hungry for it, borderline desperate for the sense of control she could offer him. Pushing himself forward harder, he lunged, tackling her with little regard for either of them.

Tumbling into the snow in a flurry of fur and legs, he pressed his growl into her skin, crawling his way up her body. His sides heaved, his breathing ragged and his eyes still just as wild as they’d been when he left the lagoon behind. Snow laden fur stood at attention, his hackles bristling with unbridled aggression.

“What did I tell you?” The disapproval in his growl contended with the primal delight that inched into his stare. Pressing her into the snow, the storm continued to rage, snow flying in all directions as the wind canceled out any other noise.

Of all the bad choices in his life, this was the best one. Senka hadn’t been his from the very start, another man’s ring was still shackled around her delicate finger. But that hadn’t stopped him from claiming her as his, from tying his very soul to her in a way that would truly cripple him if she ever cast him out. She may look like Isolde, but what he felt for her was something entirely different. It was an all consuming need that wouldn’t be ignored. With each passing day, an untimely demise for Augustine was more appealing - for the simple fact that Senka could be his. “Get up.” But just like he had done on the doorstep of the drunken seagull, he made no effort to move, to give her the space she needed to rise gracefully. It was a punishment she didn’t truly deserve but he’d bury that beneath the half truth that she failed to follow instructions. In truth, he needed an outlet, someone to take the rake of his frustrations against their skin. Never would she truly suffer at his hands, but he simply couldn’t resist turning her skin a lovely shade of pink.

Looking down at her, husband eyes were narrowed, both from the wind and his sour mood while his ears stayed slick back against his crown. The blizzard only added insult to injury, this was not how this day was suppose to end. Now he was faced with another decision. They needed shelter and soon. But the nearest place was his, his home, his safe haven, his most guarded secret. Taking her there would mean letting her into his past, letting her look at the demons that started it all. His teeth ground together in frustration. Odysseus regarded her with speculation, indecision dancing in the shadows of his stare. No matter what he chose next, his survival depended on it.

"speech"

code // art

He comes out of nowhere, hitting her like a freight train and sending them tumbling end-over-end through the snow; she lands beneath him, the air rushing from her lungs. His growl vibrates against her skin, the heat of him at her back opposing the frigid cold of ice against her belly. "What did I tell you?" Senka growls softly in answer, as though to say it's not her fault he didn't draw their game out—but she has to admit, if only to herself, that this feels less like a game and more like a punishment she hasn't earned.

If this is what he needs, her laid out beneath him and at his mercy, then she will let him have it.

Despite his fury that she does not yet understand, she trusts him.

"Get up," he demands, and Senka's eyes narrow, her nostrils flaring. It's infuriating, the way his heavy-handed manner has her aching for a taste of him—she simultaneously wants to obey his every command without question and stoke the flame of his anger until he's burning against her skin. It doesn't matter that he just had her not half an hour ago; when it comes to Odysseus, she can never have enough, and she will greedily take him any way she can have him.

And so she crawls like the depraved sinner she is, but not without the added edge of taunting him. Senka pushes off the ground enough that the length of her spine presses into his belly, dragging herself goadingly along his sensitive underside as she creeps with no sense of haste from beneath him. She wants to rile him, eager to offer him the excuse to dominate her and take whatever it is he needs.

Her defiance, her compliance, her body, her heart, her soul—he already has every part of her, as certain as the sunrise.

how strange,
to dream of you

even when
i am wide awake

code // art

fangs out in the moonlight

Whether she agrees or not, her only agreement is a low growl, one that he feels more than he hears over the howling wind. She doesn’t fight him though, letting him press her into the snow as brand her with his frustration. Even when he demands that she get to her paws, demands that she crawl to get there, she obliges. It’s soothing, in a fucked up sort of way. Until she rubs against him like a cat, arching her back into him as she slips slowly from his grasp. His growl is lost in the blizzard, carried away by mother natures wrath. It was almost fitting, the rage of the freezing storm as he burned with indignation. All the resentment that Isolde caused bubbled over. The moment he left the shattered serenity of the lagoon, he found himself in a storm that was rivaled only by the torrent of emotions he felt.

All the time and energy he’d invested, all the little moments they shared over years, it was all for nothing. As unlikely a pair as they were, there was something easy about the way he connected with her. The innocent blush in her cheeks when something scandalous parted his lips was damn near irresistible. The spark of her temper was as tempting as it was shocking. But reality had been too much for her to bear. Odysseus had never tried to hide who he was, she had always known he lived a life that was less than honorable. Whether she had been simply content to live in a delusion or simply hadn’t cared, that all changed the moment she found him speckled with another man’s blood.

A sliver of doubt had him wondering if Senka would do the same. He had made threats, making it no secret what would happen to any other man that she let between her legs. She didn’t stare at him with wide, fearful wides, she didn’t plead for their lives or chastise him for the violence he was capable of. She challenged it.

Nipping at her hips just before she was free of his reach, he moved to her side, guiding her through the blizzard. He was silent, lips sealed into a hard line as he led them through the redwood, with seemingly no destination in mind. Until they arrived at one of Rionnachs many decaying castles. In the thick of blizzard, it was impossible to make out anything about it, but he knew it well enough to navigate the stonework blind. Pushing open the doors, he led them inside.

No one stood within the entry hall waiting to greet them, it was vacant though it wasn’t void of decor. It was seemingly well lived in, far more functional than grandiose. The air was cool, as if someone had let a fire die while they turned in for the night. It was just as he’d left it the last time. Though he had to thank his house keeper for that, she could consider this place home far more than he did. Speaking off, she came rushing toward the staircase off to the side, her steps rushed and her expression sharp. ”You didn’t tell me you were coming!” She chided. ”Its freezing out, i could have had a fire lit for you.” It was then she noticed Senka and fell utterly silent. Her chocolate eyes grew round, surprise etched into every line of her aging features. Her jaws popped open, her lips forming a small ‘o’. ”My apologies, I didn’t realize you had company.” Even as she remembered her manners, she couldn’t help but staring at Senka as if she were a mystical being.

His housekeepers reaction did little to soothe his mood. A growl rumbled low in his throat, the only response he had for the woman with whom he trusted his home. She was unbothered by his sour mood, more or less accustomed to it. “Go.” The singular word earned him a scowl before the she wolf departed, heading back the way she came without another word. In her wake, Odysseus would walk further into the old structure, obviously as ease within the four walls. Though not even home could quiet the electricity that danced across his skin and kept his fur bristling.

"speech"

code // art

Senka isn't certain what she expected, but it isn't for Odysseus to stalk off into the storm in silent expectation for her to follow. A slight frown tips down the edges of her lips, but she sticks close to his side, unwilling to lose him in these woods she doesn't know—even if he is being wildly unpredictable right now. Despite his foul mood, which she's beginning to suspect has more to do with just them being seen, Senka knows that she is safe with him, to whatever end.

She tries not to stare too hard, but every time she glances back to the planes of his face, she finds Odysseus's features set in a near-scowl, his expression cold and closed off. Colder than she's ever seen him, she thinks. Wisely, she keeps her mouth shut until they get wherever it is he's leading them, letting her thoughts run rampant and wondering how they went from a moment that felt dangerously close to love, to this.

She says nothing as they approach the vague, looming shape of a stone building; says nothing when Odysseus ushers her inside the front door—though she is immediately grateful for the reprieve from the wind. A female voice rings off to the side, both alarmed and chastising, and Senka's head whips in her direction, her gaze sharp and assessing as the woman comes into view. She is immediately reminded of Lucielle's demeanor, and how similarly she often chides Augustine. Her expression softens slightly, slipping back into something more demure, and she offers a faint smile and dip of her head in greeting. She has zero intention of offering her name to this stranger in a strange house—Odysseus's house.

It feels wrong, somehow, to be here.

Private. Something he's kept just for him.

Biting her lip, Senka trails after him when he dismisses the housekeeper and drifts further into the cool shadows of his home. "Odysseus," she murmurs hesitantly, more cautious than she's ever been with him; he's strung taut like a livewire, and she worries that the wrong move might make him snap. She knows he won't hurt her—not truly—but before he sets his teeth to her throat, she'd like to know why.

how strange,
to dream of you

even when
i am wide awake

code // art

fangs out in the moonlight

Odysseus.

Amethyst hues immediately snap towards her, meeting her stare. There’s a hundred questions hanging from his name, questions that he wouldn’t be able to easily avoid. But there’s caution too, a hesitancy he’d not seen from her before. It served to both aggravate him more and quiet the storm that was his anger. She didn’t understand and she treaded in uncharted waters. He didn’t blame her. Though he’s wasn’t eagerly jumping at the chance to answer any of her questions. It was inevitable though. They were stuck here until the storm died down. With any luck, it would be soon. “Ask.” Might as well get it over with. Walking down a hall, he passed a couple doors before pushing into one. The wood slab slide open with a soft groan, revealing a bedroom.

A bed of pelts was near a fireplace, well slept in despite this place being exclusively undisclosed. Until now. The air was thick with the stale scent of cinnamon, claiming this room as his own, if she hadn’t already guessed. Blowing out a quiet breath, he stepped inside. In the corner, there was, thankfully, a well stocked minibar. His housekeeper had always been worth her weight in gold. Pouring two glasses of bourbon, he didn’t ask Senka if she wanted gin because he didn’t have anything else. The house had been set up exactly to his liking, it catered to every single one of his tastes and no one elses. There hadn’t been a reason to. Anything else in the house had been selected by his house keeper, her feminine touching sprinkled throughout the structure, not that he had stopped her the first time he noticed flowers or candles scattered about.

Wordlessly, he offered Senka her drink. Crossing the room, he dropped unceremoniously onto a couch. Amethyst gems found her, watching her closely, like a predator waiting for a chance to strike. He may have given her free rein to ask whatever she wanted, but he still wasn’t convinced he’d answer all of them. Unease was stitched into the hard line of his jaw but he hid it beneath an even mask. Sipping from his cup, he craved the alcohols soothing warmth, but he wouldn’t get that now, not with how tightly he wound he was. Grasping at strands to control the situation he found himself in, he regarded her with an expression similar to the first night they truly met. But instead of him standing in her home unwelcome, she stood in his and he had yet to decide if she was welcome or not.

"speech"

code // art

"Ask." She doesn't. She can't, when his tone is so curt, his expression closed-off. This is not the same man who had dragged her into his embrace in the lagoon like she was the only thing he needed, like she was his salvation. In his place is someone wary and guarded, and she grows acutely aware of the fact that she doesn't know him—not really. Physically, she knows him as intimately as she knows herself, but his dreams, aspirations, something so banal as his favorite color? These things all linger in everything they've never said, every conversation they've skipped in favor of learning each other in other ways.

Thoughts warring in her mind, Senka silently follows him down the hall, taking in every little detail about his home with pinpoint accuracy. She wants to remember everything—in case her first time here is also her last.

Odysseus disappears into a doorway, and she trails at a distance, meandering into the room that surrounds her with the familiarity of his scent. She pauses there, just past the threshold of his bedroom, and slowly surveys the modest furnishings that are unapologetically him. The soft clink of glasses draws her attention back to him, and she accepts his proffered drink as quietly as he offers it, her gaze tracking him across the room, where he drops onto a couch, his posture vaguely resembling a sulking teen.

Senka meets his gaze, her head tilting slightly in a thoughtful manner. With a soft sigh, she turns and deposits her untouched drink on the bar, and then pads across the room towards him, her nails tapping lightly on the floor. Despite his cool demeanor, there is no hesitation when she climbs onto the couch beside him, curling into his side and laying her cheek against his shoulder. "I'm not going to interrogate you," she offers after a beat, her tone soft and murmured into his fur. "But...if you want to talk about it, I'll listen."

There are times in which Senka gives in to the conflict between them, the constant desire to demand answers from him and grow ever-more frustrated with every half-truth. Tonight, she doesn't want to be the antagonist; she wants to know him, and what has driven this change in him, but only if he wants her to know.

how strange,
to dream of you

even when
i am wide awake

code // art

fangs out in the moonlight

He half expects a barrage of questions, but she seems to have lost control of her tongue. Under her thoughtful stare, he waits, his expression unchanged even as she sets her drink back down with a soft clink. Without a fire going, the only sound in the room was the low click of her nails against the stone floor as she made her ways towards him. He tracked her every movement. Keeping his skepticism to himself, he only watches as she joins him, folding herself into his side as if she had done it a million times before, as if it were her place.

I'm not going to interrogate you,

A brow arches, as if to call her bluff. But...if you want to talk about it, I'll listen. She left the ball of in his court. It was usually a tactic he preferred, one that kept him in control. But without a specific question, he couldn't provide a specific answer. Biding his time, he took a pull from his drink. He balked against the sense of anxiety that plagued him. Did he tell her? What should he tell her? Could she be trusted with any of it? Odysseus had become intimately familiar with every inch of her body, he knew exactly where to touch and when. That was it though. He had nothing besides she was a majors wife and her father died in the war. He had endless speculations of who she was, and he had assumed correctly on several while everything else remained a mystery.

He didn't anticpate a betrayal from her. But he hadn't expected it from Isolde either. He had been wrong before. With his stare boring into hers, he searched for the answers to so many questions. "This place used to belong to my family. We came here every fall, when the leaves were their most vibrant." It dragged up memories of his childhood. A half smile gently touched one corner of his mouth. "My mother insisted upon it and it wasn't often my father denied her." His childhood had been a pleasant one, his parents loved all their children and his father was always infatuated with his mother. "I've only it back a handful of years now." The bitter end to his pleasant childhood. "It's not that easy to get something back when you're presumed dead." A dark amusement blossomed briefly. It faded, quickly and he would fall silent, brooding.

Explaining away the house was the easy part. "You might have heard of my family. My parents had ties to the college..." It was part of the reason he was so well educated. His next words were heavy and bitter tasting. "Before they were murdered." His voice deadpanned. "My name is Odysseus Barin." His name rolled eloquently off his tongue even though it felt strange on his lips. How long had it been since his familys name slipped off his tongue? Years at least...

"speech"

code // art