you should come home. you aren't what i want.

wolfman

Wolf's still up to his old tricks. Still hangs out in the bad parts of town. Still hunts there, vicious and predatory as any of the prey he tracks. Corners. Kills. Difference is he's ostensibly one of the good guys.

Doesn't look like one of the good guys. Doesn't wear a superhero mask. Doesn't have an S on his chest. Just that battered motorcycle jacket, cracked at the elbows. Hoodie under it because it's too damn cold otherwise. Thick jeans, thick socks, heavy boots. Gloves, which aren't quite enough to keep him from clasping his hands together, blowing into the hollow of his palms to keep warm.

Sits in the shadow of that church. Kind of likes it. Kind of thinks of it as his now, a little. Something to watch over. Something to protect Doesn't think of the girl anymore. That's what he tells himself, anyway. She's no longer his to watch over, nor to protect.

witch

[perception + primal urge]

Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (1, 1, 2, 3, 4) ( botch x 2 )

witch

Walks out of a bar on the opposite corner called Prohibition. She's with people: some he saw at that loft party. Been a while. Been quite a while, in fact, and hasn't seen her, heard from her. No text to tell him she was at her friend's place safely. Just the key she left on the guest room nightstand. That half-eaten Chipotle in the fridge, the packet of Tim Tams hidden away in the back of the pantry.

And then there she is. Hears her voice if not the exact words. Sees her smiling. Actually wearing pants, though they're really basically leggings. A pair of boots, that caramel-colored coat with the faux fur collar and cuffs. Her breath and the breath of all her friends steams around them. The bar is closing down, like most bars.

This close to the capitol, East Colfax isn't all that bad. The McDonald's by the church is clean and well-lit. There's one of the city's dozens of ampersand restaurants close by. Look west and one can see the dome of the capitol. She's safe. She's not alone, and though it's late, she's with friends.

They're starting to head west, though, crossing the street to go back towards downtown proper, and whatever loft Naomi is staying in these days. And that's when Devon, perhaps preternaturally aware of her surroundings, or of the supernatural, or just of him --

walks into a lamppost. Quite hard, in fact, banging her face against the metal and jerking back. Her friends are laughing at first, just as buzzed -- if not flat-out drunk -- as she is. But color blooms on her forehead, and she sways a little, dazed by the impact.

witch

[damage from lamppost to face]

Dice: 3 d10 TN6 (1, 5, 10) ( success x 1 )

witch

[soak!]

Dice: 4 d10 TN6 (4, 5, 7, 8) ( success x 2 )

wolfman

Not her fault she doesn't see him. Wolf's sitting in the shadow of the church facade. Not even in front of the doors but off to the side, tucked away out of the worst of the wind and the cold. Back to the wall. One leg drawn up, other straight.

Hears the girl before he sees her. Never smells her, though his senses are keen enough to smell just about everything else, even in this form. Gasoline and engine oil. McDonald's fries and chicken mcnuggets. Trash in the alleyway. That peculiar scent of a city in the cold.

All those things leach away. Matter a whole lot less when he hears her laughing. Wolf sits up straighter. Looks across the street and there she is. Leggings and boots. Faux fur, faux jewels, faux everything except herself. She's all real, even if sometimes he thinks she's not. Thinks she was a dream all along. Figment of his haunted imagination. He watches her move, watches her toss her hair, throw a smile at a friend. Maybe she's a little drunk. Did come out of a bar.

Walks into a lamppost. Even across the street he imagines he can hear the impact. Her friends are laughing. Wolf isn't. Wolf's watching, hands balled up into fists, tense on the verge of anger. Why are they laughing.

witch

[TRY AGAIN DEVON: perception + alertness]

Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (1, 1, 8, 9, 10) ( success x 3 )

witch

Friends are laughing. For a moment. Some of them are just... drunk. It's Naomi, with her bright red hair and so on, who seems to notice that Devon is pretty out of it. She wrinkles with concern then, going beside Devon to make sure she doesn't fall down.

Devon's got her hand on her brow, and the group of friends gathers, though a couple of them are still walking forward, oblivious for a few paces before anything else. But they turn back. And Devon starts assuring people she's fine. No concussion, no weirdness. Her cheeks are bright red.

Of course that would be when she happens to catch sight of Rafael across the street, in the shadows of the Basilica.

He can see her see him. And see her breath catch up in her throat. Naomi sees him, too, when she notices that Devon's looking at something. Looks over, then at Devon again, talking to her quietly. Devon looks away from Rafael. She shakes her head to one thing Naomi says: a question. Then she nods to the next. Nods again. Of course. Naomi's right.

But Naomi asks another question. And Devon looks upset. And shakes her head. Naomi winds an arm around her, and starts walking with her, westward, downtown-ward. Devon doesn't cry. They just keep walking together.

--

A long time later, an hour and change, he gets a text:

you're not following me, are you?

witch

Of course she flinches a few seconds after she sends it. How it sounds. How he'll probably take it, since he takes everything the worst way. So she sends another:

told naomi you weren't. just want to make sure.

wolfman

NO i was hun

is what he starts tapping out, angry, when the phone buzzes in his hand again. Wolf holds his thumb over the backspace until all the letters disappear again. Leaves a small smear of blood on the screen.

Been an hour and change. Girl looked over and saw him and for a ridiculous moment he wanted to shrink into the shadows. Didn't. Straightened up and turned and put his feet on the steps, sat there staring boldly across the street while Naomi asked whether he was following girl around or what. Can't blame Naomi for wondering. Something about him just doesn't feel right.

Girl walked off with Naomi and the rest of her friends. Wolf watched her go, didn't follow. Got up a little later and wandered off, deeper and darker and farther down that road. Denver isn't really an unsafe city. Not much in the way of slums and ghettos, but every city has a seedy underbelly. Wolves get good at finding them. Best place to hunt.

Found himself good hunting. Savage prey. Fights, savage himself, claws things open, crushes bone in his teeth. Tears something apart, grabbing the jaws and wrenching until flesh gave. Maybe Naomi's right after all. He's just not right. No one who does such things could be right in the head.

Blood still cold on his hands. Stands in an alleyway, head down, phone in hand. Dead things around his feet. Girl sends a followup text and he reads it. Draws a breath, annoyed, but it comes out a sigh. He taps some more.

Just hunting.

witch

Just hunting.

Which is fine. Sort of what she thought. She used to see him plenty up and down this street. Before she decided she was going to stay the fuck away from this guy, and before he saved her life, and before Halloween and that furious encounter at the top of his stairs. Before everything, like... making out with him on the beach in Brazil or sleeping in his arms for weeks or --

this line of thought leads her back to the end of it, and things he'd only say to her when he was angry at her, things that mattered so much to her to hear but which he called meaningless. That's how she remembers it. Remembers the way he spat every word at her in the end. Threw you love me at her in a way that felt like a cold slap to the face, said you know I love you in a way that made her lose any trace of faith in it.

Devon taps backspace over and over. Erases the words in reverse: much so you miss. Leaves the I sitting there, considering whether there's anything else. Then deletes that, too.

A moment later, hits send:

ok

wolfman

And there's nothing back.

--

Not for hours anyway. Then girl's phone lights up again. Maybe she's asleep by then. Message gets through anyway. Modern-day note in a bottle. Drifts across an invisible ocean. Maroons on the shore of her Samsung or HTC or LG or ...

you ok?

witch

Devon is asleep by the time he texts her again. She's curled up and passed out in the dark, and her phone is silent and face-down. She doesn't answer.

Sees it in the morning, and at first she's confused. Takes a bleary while to notice the time stamp on it. She's sitting up in bed, still half in her clothes from last night, sniffing, drinking water by the bed. Decides to put the phone down and curl up again.

Ends up crying. Muffles it into the pillow so Naomi doesn't hear. She doesn't want to talk to Naomi about it. She doesn't want to be the heartbroken girl crying in bed all the time. She doesn't want anyone to know, or ask questions, or offer advice. She just wants --

Devon knows what she wants, and the answer was pretty much no.

--

Long time later into the afternoon, when she's gotten herself together and has had a couple of shots, texts back:

saw my bit with the lamppost? XD

another:

I'm quite all right. thx.

Because, see.

She is fine.

wolfman

Wolf's sleeping then. Keeps strange hours, nocturnal more often than not. Messages pile up on his phone. Two of them, anyway. One with a ridiculous little emoticon that feels as fake as it is. Second one with a lie.

Round dinnertime is when he wakes. Sees them. Squints at the phone bleary-eyed while he tries to make out the XD, the breezy little reply. Puts phone down, thumps into the bathroom, pisses, washes up, brushes his teeth.

Eating dinner when he thinks of his phone again. Picks it up, taps a few words, erases them, taps them again. Hits send before he has a chance to regret it,

you should come home.

witch

Devon's alone then. She's watching some movie: didn't want to go out.

Tries not answering. Rewinds the movie a couple of scenes because she can't remember them. Does this twice.

Tries tapping out: stop.

Almost sends: why? but it feels searching, she thinks it will come off more pathetic than she wants to. Like she's fishing.

Takes her til the third try to even think of writing: not my home.

Thinks, but never even begins to tap out that she loves him, she loves him and what does he think she's supposed to believe when he spends all that time arguing with her about it instead of just fucking telling her how he feels, what is she supposed to believe when he can say he 'likes' her, he 'misses' her, he'll kill, he'll die, but I fucking love you is a bridge too far, how does he think that feels. Thinks: son of a bitch.

Devon curls up for a while. She has the movie paused. She has her legs tucked up close to her chest.

Takes her some time to tap it out, but no time at all to decide to send it: you think how you feel about me has been obvious all this time. it's not. I was never sure (...)

Meant to tell him there's more, with that bit at the end: and it made it hard to be with you. not feeling loved. (...)

you know you're not good at showing/saying it. then yell at me for wanting you to show/say it. made me feel stupid. HURT.

No little dots at the end of that message. Might be the end. He may already be replying when she finishes:

can you get why I don't want to be there?

wolfman

No telling if he starts replying while she's still sending those messages. No telling if he gets angry, if he throws the phone across the room, if he breaks it.

Or if he doesn't even notice the messages coming in. If his phone's silenced, blinking in his pocket or on his nightstand. If it's buzzing away in the pocket of some jacket he left it in.

Or,

if he has it in hand. Reads the messages as they come. Frowns over them. Broods over them. Sits on his breakfast bar stirring his stew, turning over the thick broth, the chunky vegetables, the tender beef. Pushes his food around until it's cold and thickening, setting.

Her phone buzzes:

yeah. but i still want you to come home.

witch

even if it's not good for me to be there?

wolfman

Wolf's irritated:

never said you had to come back. just said i wanted you to.

Couple minutes go by. Then another:

what do you want me to do?

witch

Her phone chimes twice. Devon wipes her cheeks again. She tugs the blanket she's wearing tighter around herself. The first text sticks in her craw. She wants to tell him that it's not her fucking problem or ask him that she fucking meant it: does he really want her there even if it makes her miserable? Does he care at all how he makes her feel, or just when it suits him?

She puts the phone aside. Curls up, blanket over her head, willing her phone to chime again and also willing him to just be done with it, go silent, leave her alone to just get over him.

It does go off again though. It does chime, and she knows it's him. She slinks her arm out and checks it after several seconds anyway. Huffs a breath out. So many things she wants. She knows if she tells him to back off and give her some space to get over him, he'll just... get angry and go away forever. If she tells him again that all she wanted was for him to love her, chances are he'll just get angry. Thinks: if she tells him she doesn't want anything from him, it'll just make him angry, and it won't even be true.

So she just ends up

calling him.

wolfman

Stupid but it startles him when the phone goes off. He's done eating by then. He's back in the recliner. That's how he spends his days now. Gets up. Eats. Watches stupid shit on TV. Goes out when he can't take it anymore. Kills something. Comes back. Washes. Goes to bed.

Gets up. Eats. Rinse and repeat.

Then the phone ringing. Buzzing in his pocket, some stupid cheerful ringtone someone else set for him going off. He hears it so rarely he doesn't even recognize it. Pulls the phone out and stares at it for a second, figures out what to slide where and picks up.

Empty air for a while. Then wolf puts phone to ear. "Yeah?"

witch

That yeah isn't out of his mouth all the way because as soon as it stops ringing and she hears it picked up, Devon starts talking.

"I told you what I really wanted. And you didn't want to." A sharp intake of breath: "I want you to be sorry that you hurt me instead of annoyed that I'm hurt. I want you to give me what I need from you instead of making me feel small and pathetic for needing it. I want you to explain to me why you want me there if you know that being there would just made me sad."

Another quick breath, this one tremulous, and tight with tears that are rushing out of her again. "I want you to tell me how you're going to make it up to me that the first time you said you loved me was when you were trying to make me feel like an idiot.

"And if you think all of that is bullshit or unfair, I want you to admit that you don't love me, you just liked having me around, and that you're a gigantic douchebag and you're sorry and you don't want to string me along and you're going to back off and let me go."

wolfman

Barely has a word out his mouth before she starts up. Wolf can't get a word in edgewise. Doesn't really have a word to put in anyway, and meanwhile girl goes on

and on.

And wolf closes his eyes after a while. Wolf clenches his jaw, wolf pinches the bridge of his nose, wolf tries not to shout at her over the phone. Wolf waits until she's done, and when she is, a silence stretches blasted as a nuclear landscape. Ten seconds is an eternity across a phone line.

"Fuck, Devon. You want me to be someone I'm not."

Manages that, finally. Sighs it. Too battered to even be angry.

"Want me to be this ... sweet loving thing that tells you nice things and puts all my feelings into perfect little words. Couldn't do that even if I wanted to. Don't know how.

"Don't want to have to say shit all the time. Hate talking so much. Feels fake. Feels forced. Try to show you when I can. You asked me to be gentle and I was, wasn't I? Means something, doesn't that? If that's not enough I'll try harder. But don't ask me to be some ... silver-tongued Romeo. I can't. Just can't. And it's not because I don't love you, fuck. Don't even see how you went there."

witch

You want me to be someone I'm not.

She nearly hangs up on him. Nearly throws her phone across the room when he tells her what she really wants is for him to be sweet or loving like it's this mincing little thing. He doesn't listen. He doesn't believe her. Makes her out to be someone she's not, wanting things that are so much smaller and more pointless than what they are to her. What he gives should be enough. Not fucking her to the point of pain should be enough.

He'll try harder, but he can't. And she doesn't even have it in her to say anything. She's just crying again, sucking in a breath. Not hard to mistake what's going on.

"I guess you're right," is what she manages to get out, after all of it. She's choking on it, weeping the words. But nothing else gets through. So she gives up. "You aren't what I want."

And she hangs up.