Wolves Don't Perform in the Circus(Dallas Pack/Natasha/Open)
May 31, 2017 5:28:44 GMT -6
Nadine Noel, Josh Patton, and 1 more like this
Post by Noah James Alexander Jr on May 31, 2017 5:28:44 GMT -6
When heading north to the big bad town of Dallas most people and most lycanthropes took the I45 north. It was the smart thing to do and safest. Especially for lycanthropes. Driving through sometimes ever-changing territory, crossing boundaries, daring anyone and everyone to make a challenge or take a pot shot was just plain stupid to most folks. So, it was get on the forty-five and hightail it to where you wanted to be. It’s also why many if not most lycanthropes that could afford it flew everywhere.
Problem with flying well drug dogs often marked them as other. The feds had spotters at most airports looking for preternaturals and hell it was just plain claustrophobic. Being that close to the press of other travelers. Their scents, their fear, their agitation could ratchet up a lycanthropes natural responses and own inherent unease of being trapped in a flying metal coffin. So, more times than not a shift was nearly always on them. Especially those with little to no real power in their blood. Noah remembered reading about a plane back in the seventies that had crashed due to the leopard on board shifting midflight cutting a swath through the passengers until she reached the cockpit and tore the pilots to shreds. This was of course back when it was not common procedures for Sky marshals to be on nearly every flight loaded with silver shot just in case.
Needless to say, confident as he always was in his own abilities he drove north avoiding the forty-five with his shields cranked down and his sense open for the least sign of trouble. He knew better than to look for trouble as it was the one thing that could always be found. His shields down and his fur flag waving was a sign to any would be jackers, fools or soon to be dead men that he was in no mood for any guff but would appease them if they wanted blood pain death or any combination in between. It was a simple leave me be I’ll let you live affectation.
It was with little surprise that he made it all the way to the turn off from the three oh four onto the two eighty-seven that some jackalope decided to try their luck. He’d picked up the tail two miles back it wasn’t the first of the trip but it was the most foolish. It was two yotes who clearly wanted to die. He didn’t put on speed or slow until he got to Old Latexo road. Easing of the road he pulled into the Churches lot hopping off his bike to stretch his legs. Securing his helmet to his ape hangers he moved to the church steps he figured right that no one would be in service at this ungodly hour and took a walk around the building given the coyote lycanthropes the only chance they could earn to leave well enough alone.
As his old man often said you can’t teach common sense to uncommon fools. They followed him in blocking the exit with their gleaming clearly stolen beamer and he snorted as they thought to corner him. One each moving around the building to cut him off. He’d expected only one of them to really be interested in dying they proved him wrong. Crouched down as he was when they came around the buildings corners it took them a minute to see him. In that time, he’d already unsheathed the boot knife he kept strapped to his ankle.
It was cheating some but all was fair in war. And every breathe they drew as lycanthropes was just that war. It was master or be mastered, it was appearances and lack thereof. It was a fight for survival against their own drives as well as the world around them. These two clearly had been conscripted into the wrong side. The side that wanted to lose.
Twenty-five minutes later after insuring the message was sent to whoever they answered to he was back on his bike making a left onto Corsicana and thinking on how would he convince her to come back. He didn’t want to do things the hard way but well to be honest he was really good at doing things that way.
He thought of Natasha and how strong of a wolf she was. She made him better. Though in truth that had little to do with his decision. He hadn’t given her permission to leave. He hadn’t openly said he didn’t want her. He as Ulfric had power over life and death for the Pack as such decisions such as hers after winning the chance to be his lupa meant her leaving was a slap in the face.
She was strong willed her eyes almost as filled with mischief as his yet she ran. She fled like a thief in the night. There had to be an accounting. She had to come back home and ask to leave. The pack needed to know he was as much the boss as they thought and more. He eased his mental anguish by deep breathing focusing on what he’d heard of the Dallas Star Pack. Nothing good nothing bad. Not a pack to be trifled with but he wasn’t here for the pack. If they got in his way he’d… well no need to jump the gun. He simply hoped they’d listen to reason.
He was here for his things and then he’d be on his way. Trouble being they didn’t have an Ulfric that was out of the closet even as much as he was. So, he would have to nose around until he found them their Ulfric and his runaway Lupa. Luckily the furry grapevine did have a few insights as to where he might start his hunt. He’d head to Wired Angels later after a nap he promised himself. As while the five and a half hour ride was nothing to stressful he however wasn’t foolish enough to think there might not be trouble with him just showing up. As such he pulled into the motel’s parking lot kicked off his bike grabbed his bags and checked himself in. The place was a veritable pigs sty. So much so he slept on the floor against the door. It was a place where dreams died and that suited him fine. It was just disreputable enough that most lycanthropes would stay away. He slept like the dead for exactly three hours long enough to recharge and the heat of the day to dissipate as much as it ever would.
As far as he could tell the coffee shop served sandwiches which suited him just fine he arrived just as the early after work crowd was beginning to mill about the city. He buttoned up his shielding just enough to smell of pack but not enough that anyone but perhaps another alpha would know how big of a stick he was packing. Ordering a black coffee not because he thought it was how coffee should be served but because he wasn’t sure how long he would need to wait to catch someone attention he took a seat at the back of the room. Moving back several times ordering handfuls of sandwiches and cracking open the book he was reading. It was the John Quincy Adams biography he sipped ate and waited for someone to catch his eye or get curious enough to come over to introduce themselves.
Problem with flying well drug dogs often marked them as other. The feds had spotters at most airports looking for preternaturals and hell it was just plain claustrophobic. Being that close to the press of other travelers. Their scents, their fear, their agitation could ratchet up a lycanthropes natural responses and own inherent unease of being trapped in a flying metal coffin. So, more times than not a shift was nearly always on them. Especially those with little to no real power in their blood. Noah remembered reading about a plane back in the seventies that had crashed due to the leopard on board shifting midflight cutting a swath through the passengers until she reached the cockpit and tore the pilots to shreds. This was of course back when it was not common procedures for Sky marshals to be on nearly every flight loaded with silver shot just in case.
Needless to say, confident as he always was in his own abilities he drove north avoiding the forty-five with his shields cranked down and his sense open for the least sign of trouble. He knew better than to look for trouble as it was the one thing that could always be found. His shields down and his fur flag waving was a sign to any would be jackers, fools or soon to be dead men that he was in no mood for any guff but would appease them if they wanted blood pain death or any combination in between. It was a simple leave me be I’ll let you live affectation.
It was with little surprise that he made it all the way to the turn off from the three oh four onto the two eighty-seven that some jackalope decided to try their luck. He’d picked up the tail two miles back it wasn’t the first of the trip but it was the most foolish. It was two yotes who clearly wanted to die. He didn’t put on speed or slow until he got to Old Latexo road. Easing of the road he pulled into the Churches lot hopping off his bike to stretch his legs. Securing his helmet to his ape hangers he moved to the church steps he figured right that no one would be in service at this ungodly hour and took a walk around the building given the coyote lycanthropes the only chance they could earn to leave well enough alone.
As his old man often said you can’t teach common sense to uncommon fools. They followed him in blocking the exit with their gleaming clearly stolen beamer and he snorted as they thought to corner him. One each moving around the building to cut him off. He’d expected only one of them to really be interested in dying they proved him wrong. Crouched down as he was when they came around the buildings corners it took them a minute to see him. In that time, he’d already unsheathed the boot knife he kept strapped to his ankle.
It was cheating some but all was fair in war. And every breathe they drew as lycanthropes was just that war. It was master or be mastered, it was appearances and lack thereof. It was a fight for survival against their own drives as well as the world around them. These two clearly had been conscripted into the wrong side. The side that wanted to lose.
Twenty-five minutes later after insuring the message was sent to whoever they answered to he was back on his bike making a left onto Corsicana and thinking on how would he convince her to come back. He didn’t want to do things the hard way but well to be honest he was really good at doing things that way.
He thought of Natasha and how strong of a wolf she was. She made him better. Though in truth that had little to do with his decision. He hadn’t given her permission to leave. He hadn’t openly said he didn’t want her. He as Ulfric had power over life and death for the Pack as such decisions such as hers after winning the chance to be his lupa meant her leaving was a slap in the face.
She was strong willed her eyes almost as filled with mischief as his yet she ran. She fled like a thief in the night. There had to be an accounting. She had to come back home and ask to leave. The pack needed to know he was as much the boss as they thought and more. He eased his mental anguish by deep breathing focusing on what he’d heard of the Dallas Star Pack. Nothing good nothing bad. Not a pack to be trifled with but he wasn’t here for the pack. If they got in his way he’d… well no need to jump the gun. He simply hoped they’d listen to reason.
He was here for his things and then he’d be on his way. Trouble being they didn’t have an Ulfric that was out of the closet even as much as he was. So, he would have to nose around until he found them their Ulfric and his runaway Lupa. Luckily the furry grapevine did have a few insights as to where he might start his hunt. He’d head to Wired Angels later after a nap he promised himself. As while the five and a half hour ride was nothing to stressful he however wasn’t foolish enough to think there might not be trouble with him just showing up. As such he pulled into the motel’s parking lot kicked off his bike grabbed his bags and checked himself in. The place was a veritable pigs sty. So much so he slept on the floor against the door. It was a place where dreams died and that suited him fine. It was just disreputable enough that most lycanthropes would stay away. He slept like the dead for exactly three hours long enough to recharge and the heat of the day to dissipate as much as it ever would.
As far as he could tell the coffee shop served sandwiches which suited him just fine he arrived just as the early after work crowd was beginning to mill about the city. He buttoned up his shielding just enough to smell of pack but not enough that anyone but perhaps another alpha would know how big of a stick he was packing. Ordering a black coffee not because he thought it was how coffee should be served but because he wasn’t sure how long he would need to wait to catch someone attention he took a seat at the back of the room. Moving back several times ordering handfuls of sandwiches and cracking open the book he was reading. It was the John Quincy Adams biography he sipped ate and waited for someone to catch his eye or get curious enough to come over to introduce themselves.
