loccent | run with wolves

[ He leans into her touch, a little guilty that so sweet a gesture is something that he takes so much pleasure and comfort from.

Lifting a hand to cover hers, he presses a chaste kiss to the heel of her palm. ] No. I did not think you would.

[ When he looks at her, he allows himself the indulgence of caressing her chin. ] I only wished to be honest. I am a bit of a hermit and tend towards isolation. My garden is my most constant companion - offering me peace, quiet, and a means by which to keep the ennui at bay.

Your honesty just had a tone of...expecting me to find it a bad thing. A warning to me.

[And perhaps that's what she took exception to. It felt pitying somehow. Pitying himself or...well, she doesn't know. And maybe, for a werewolf who came here to die, he is entitled to talk about his life as he pleases. Say that it is lackluster. But it doesn't mean that she has to like it.]

Are you doing that thing I mentioned earlier? Worrying about complications that haven't even come to pass?

Edited 2020-04-19 08:01 (UTC)

[ For a moment, he finds himself studying her face and the look in her eyes. How strange is it that she should come to their neck of the woods and pose him questions his wolf might otherwise react badly to - and yet the beast is still and patient even if it noses around her words, curious if she's contradicting them. ]

I was merely being pragmatic and honest, niña. [ He gently brushes the backs of his fingers against the apple of her cheek.

He could spare her - but he doubts she would appreciate vagaries now that they have found a comfortable place to explore possibilities between them. ]

If you must, ask. No sense ignoring the elephant in the room.

Edited 2020-04-19 08:09 (UTC)

[To her way of thinking, she is not contradicting him, because she doesn't think that he's lied to her about what he's said. His waking hours seem occupied by simple, quiet things. There is peace and quiet here, which is no doubt good for him and his wolf.

But she does also think that there are things he is leaving unsaid, or lightly implied. She pursues this not because she wishes to cause problems, but because it's her hope to reassure, or at the very least address it.]

I feel a very strong connection to you. I don't see that feeling fading quickly or easily. [It feels like a stronger confession than the one she gave the night before, but if he's said not to ignore the elephants in the room then she won't.] What I'm asking is if you were not just answering my question, but also trying to set my expectations in advance. With the likelihood that what is between us will continue over time. [Her hand draws down from his cheek to his shoulder, leaning into his touches still.] What I'm wondering is if you are already worried that I'll become restless with your quieter, more isolated lifestyle. Am I wrong? Am I reading too much into your words?

[ He cannot help the way his fingers curl against her bare skin. While he had no illusions of this discussion coming to pass, he supposes he should not be entirely too surprised that she calls him out so directly.

He can feel the wolf stir, but it's attention is not on Eun. His wolf is there, at the back of his mind, staring at him patiently, but no less interested in his response. ]

Yes. [ The confession is dragged out of him, urged on by his wolf. ] Yes, I am... hoping to set your expectations. You are young and the world is constantly changing at a pace that someone like myself is unable to... keep up.

[ The wolf is pacing again and there is a slight tremor when he idly toys with a strand of her hair, his gaze dropping because he does not wish to frighten her and he's admitted unsure of what it is the beast wants of him. ]

I am drawn to you... more than I would normally care to admit. [ Mierda. He had hoped they might get to know each other better before his baggage caught up with him. The next words come out fast, as if he cannot breathe quickly enough to slow them down. ] My wolf is impatient. It enjoyed - enjoys, our play. You could be standing in a city as dense as New York and it would be able to track you and find you.

But I refuse to have it's urges dictate my every waking moment.

[ He sounds more helpless than he is comfortable with, so he takes solace in the hope that she will not suddenly bolt from this couch - or from him.

His eyes are still lowered. He knows that they have turned gold. ]

[It could be considered rude, the way that Eun confronts him as directly as she has. It came as questions, of course, but she pursued the answers he had clearly hoped to avoid volunteering. She is patient in waiting for his answer, but what tension and stillness had grown in her while asking her questions eases slowly with his answer. Because he does answer her. Because she was right. Because he didn't try to lie to her to avoid a harder discussion.

Eun does not rush him, does not interject, or do anything other than listen while he speaks. She welcomes his touches, thinking that in this case he finds it calming on top of everything else. While not being as observant as he is of the smaller details, they are so close to one another, wrapped up in each other that she notices most of his reactions.

It is not lost on her that he, the dominant werewolf, has lowered his eyes in front of her. And while she does not consider it anything close to admitting her dominance, it seems significant to her still. Just as the rest of his explanation is. If not for his last confession, she might have closed the distance between them for a kiss, something to try and settle him and reassure him that she is not going anywhere. But if the wolf enjoys their play, it seems the wrong signal to give at that moment. Her hand smooths over his shoulder slowly, as much to comfort as it is to enjoy the feel of him close to her.]

I won't do anything to challenge you when it comes to how you decide to deal with your wolf. And while I'm pretty sure it's obvious, it doesn't hurt to make it clear that earlier the enjoyment was completely mutual. [She breathes in deeply, sighing out a breath as her eyes close briefly. This is not a track she wants to get lost on right now, no matter how tempting.]

I like that I'm not the only one thinking ahead when it comes to the possibilities for us, because otherwise I might feel very foolish considering some of the directions my thoughts have gone since last night. And I like that you are trying to be forthcoming about your life so that I'm fully informed. It's part of us getting to know each other, which we both want. But my youth does not automatically mean that I believe a faster, more packed lifestyle is better than anything else. What my youth means is that I'm still figuring it all out for myself. And if I'm being perfectly honest, being here in Aspen Creek may end up being more exciting for me than all of my time in California. Because of you.

[She kisses him then, briefly, chastely, but with feeling.]

Your years of experience are a strength to make up for my lack. Just like my ability to keep up with the world could be a strength for you.

[ She kisses him, and he shuts his eyes, letting the truth and sincerity of her statements move over him like a balm. His beast is a dangerous and ravenous thing that longs for violence as surely as bees are drawn to flowers. It often paces inside of him, apalled by the necessity of hiding behind a veneer of civilization because it is used to dealing death and relishing the fear of his chosen victims. Perhaps one day, someone will tell her about the acts of violence attributed to his name, the horrors that accompanied them. But today he can hold her, just as she asks to be held. Today, he and the beast are in agreement:

Eun is precious to them. She could have challenged, could have thrown them sass, at their first meeting. She could have marched over angry at them for their absence and instead delivered a swift and impersonal note - with a gift made with care.

She is not afraid of them, even if she should be - but neither of he nor his wolf want her to be.

She meant the kiss to be chaste and brief; but he tasted the emotions that she then expressed into words. So he bridges the space between them, slants his mouth over hers, using the arm she's taken as a pillow to bear his weight.

This kiss is not chaste nor brief, and it is possibly entirely too full of feeling. He does not think of before, of the grief he's tried to process, or of the heaviness of despair that set to seduce him into madness these last few centuries. Instead, he thinks of the softness of her skin, the yield of her mouth beneath his, and the promise of possibility. ]

[This must be how it happens for other people, she thinks.

This must be what it's like when they finally meet someone they could see themselves with for more than an evening or a week. Everything she's said feels like she's pushing herself off of one cliff after another, getting further away from a place where she can turn back and all before if she's certain she wants what's at the bottom. But the connection, the rightness takes away the fear that would normally have her holding back. Waiting to see how things progress. What few stipulations they cling to are still there, but only by threads.

Eun surrenders to his kisses, feeling the emotional weight of them and returning it with her own. This is what it feels like to fall, she thinks. This is what it's like to dive headlong into another person.

The way it shakes her might leave her unsettled if he weren't becoming the foundation beneath her feet.

They lay there together a while longer, quietly in the moment of those stronger emotions. Eun wants to give him time to settle, and does not mind having the opportunity to examine how she feels about what he's said. What she's said. None of it has accelerated their timeline, but they do at least move forward with eyes a little more open to what this could become.

Eventually, Eun suggests that they get on with their morning, stating that she's not about to let it slip by without getting her time in his greenhouse. It's with reluctance that she shifts her limbs to free him, to allow him to rise and and then help her to her feet, but rationally Eun thinks that it's good for them to have a breather from everything. Carefully, she bends to retrieve her discarded clothing, slipping her bra back on, then the tank top. She hesitates a moment, considering the warmth of the greenhouse, and sits to slip her leggings off, then heads back to the kitchen to retrieve her button-down shirt. It's large enough to tie around her waist, leaving enough of her skin uncovered to be comfortable among the roses.

This is how Eun comes to be lounging on the cushions of Asil's wicker loveseat, thumbing through her book of poetry in an absent-minded sort of way, and distracted by watching the other werewolf move through his domain. She likes seeing him like this, she decides, drawing her legs up onto the cushions so her weight rests on her hip. Not just the part where he is shirtless and glorious to behold, but how he moves. There is purpose and familiarity, comfort and ease among his roses, but he still exudes such power to her that it's all very, very attractive. She's taken with it enough that she doesn't even realize that she's looking at him with the faint glow of gold to her eyes, lips curved up slightly with her enjoyment.]

So what do you plan on doing first?

[ He has his back to her, so he is thankful that she cannot see the smile playing on his lips. Just because she is behind him does not make him any less aware of her presence, nor his nose less attentive to the rise of her wolf. If he poses - casually - in such a way that displays his fine and handsome form, then it is entirely for her benefit.

Hands on hips he surveys the ground, taking stock of the state of his plants' roots. ]

I completed deadheading before you arrived, but I may do a sweep after I ensure that I have rid my children of pesky weeds.

[ He would also need to clean. There are leaves strewn about, not enough to suffocate the earth, but enough that a bit of maintenance would be prudent. ]

[They will get along very well for a long while if this is how he plans to be around her. Asil has been very clear in his admiration for her form, and she is happy to do the same, especially as he is taking the care to show himself to advantage. It's only a shame that she doesn't have paper and a pen. She might offer him a judge's score for amusement's sake.]

Another time I'll offer to help, but today I hope you don't mind if I plan on being entirely lazy over here. [To enjoy the show, of course.] But I'll read from my poems or my novel unless you'd like to put one of your podcasts on.

[She has a fresh cup of tea, she is comfortably dressed and warm without being overheated, and content to laze where she is while he works.]

[ He sends her a look over his shoulder amd if he pauses for a fraction of a second at the sight of the wolf in her gaze, then it is only to express his approval. She looks comfortable on the wicker loveseat, looking (to his eyes) as comfortable as a cat in her immediate domain. ]

I would be so poor company to prefer the tones of another man to yours, querida. [ He croons the words, just a little, letting his gaze linger on her bare flesh.

Eun, his wolf decides, has such lovely legs. ]

[After all they have done that morning, and all they have spoken of, is it any wonder that she feels quite at home in his garden? She has no doubt that he wants her there, after all, and enjoys the way he returns her gaze.

Her smile deepens at his endearment, her favorite perhaps, tied with mi amor, and she too adjusts as his eyes linger on her. Letting her book hang loosely in her grasp, she raises both arms to stretch out, legs rubbing together somewhat as she readjusts her positioning. Perhaps she is on the petite side, but she's confident in her legs and happy to have him admire them.]

Novels or poetry then, cariño?

Poetry.

[ He is very interested in this poet that she is so fond of.

With one last lingering look, he makes his way to the table and shelves that house his tools. He will clean first and sweep the leaves and petals that have fallen so he can move them all to the compost bin he maintains off to the far end. ]

[Eun begins thumbing through her book anew, casting a casual glance over to Asil as he prepares and works, while she tries to find a poem. Eventually, she settles on a page and speaks. Her tone is quiet and even, and she reads the poem with the barest of pauses between lines so that they flow as true sentences.]

"there's a universe
swirling inside you.

you have to learn to be
your own earth,
wind, fire,
and water.

you are a natural
phenomenon--
not a natural disaster."

[ He's smoothing down some soil as he listens to her, content to listen to the lift and dips of her voice. It is a beautiful poem - a little different from the ones he is used to, but beautiful nevertheless.

The last verse is the one he likes best, in spite of himself, and he cannot help but think how apt it is for wolves such as he who are given to moods. Natural phenomenon indeed. ]

[As he is listening, and they are not discussing, Eun turns the page, and finds another she likes. She continues, a small smile on her face clearly for the first line.]

"if you eat men"

[she begins, pausing there. Then starts again.]

"if you eat men

and still feel
like you're starving,
you're craving something
that they cannot give.

don't expect men
to fill vessels
that were gifted
to you to overflow.

darling,
find passion

and self-worth within
instead of locking them

inside of men
who like swallowing keys
to keep you to themselves."

[It's a poem about love and relationships, one could say, but what Eun likes best about it is the general message to find strength and satisfaction in herself, rather than seek a sense of self-worth in others. Especially those who would rather she be bound to them rather than standing on her own two feet beside them.]

[ He is not sure if it would amuse Eun to know that his wolf and he do not mind her admissions that she knows the taste of skin and passion. The body craves what it craves, and it is only when people talk themselves out of those cravings that the mind gains the upper hand.

There's a note in the way she reads the poem, a jab - not at him, evidently - but possibly to the wolves who had seen the gift that she was but not the value. Again, it is the last part that he turns over in his head as he leans in to enjoy the scent of one of the roses that she'd noted when she first arrived. ]

[Eun pauses then, to look up from her pages. Asil has said nothing to her poems, but then she likes that she can read more than one without having to discuss each of them.

This is the sort of quiet companionship she had wondered that they might slide into as easily as everything else. Perhaps, for that reason, she takes her time to admire him again, working quietly and listening to her share. Perhaps, for that reason, she decides on a poem of softer things. Eun flips between pages, some of them dog-eared, and when she speaks this time it's not to recite.]

Pick the next one? Or two. I'll give you the titles. "electric bodies," "sun & moon," until you," or "dear future lover."

[No doubt he'll sense the shift in theme.]

[ He does, it makes him go a little still right before he glances over. The wolf is not in his eyes, but it is alert, drawn to the titles of each of the poems. If it were any other circumstance, it would amuse him to feel like he has a hand to the ruff of his beast's neck and is holding it down in the hopes that it will behave.

Allah, is this a lesson for your disobedient servant, that he finds himself dodging the trap of amor sprung on him unexpectedly?

Asil wonders also, if he should be thankful that he does not have to see or speak with Charles anytime soon. The pup would no doubt find his current predicament amusing.

He will... err on the side of caution. ] Read me the first two.

[ The latter titles make him oddly skittish. He has and always will be a romantic at heart. ]

Edited 2020-04-20 05:41 (UTC)

[Eun meets his glance with a lightly raised eyebrow, expression calm, as if there were nothing out of the ordinary about this. She is reading poetry, and wouldn't he find it more strange if not a single one touched on the subject of love or lust? Eun may enjoy the ones that speak about the casual cruelties of men, and there is one that she finds particularly relatable about men looking at young girls as women before their time, but she is happy here right now. It is not the sort of mood she wishes to set.

So when he answers, she nods, flipping to both pages. Eun considers them both a moment before starting, wondering which she should lead in with, and which she should end on. It would not be a stretch to say she is considering this strategically. In the end, she decides to take pity on him. If he is done after the first, she will not move on to the second.]

Sun and moon first then.

"i carry the sun
in my mouth.
i know how to
lure you away
from the twilight
and make you rise
over my horizon.

you carry the moon
on your body.
you know how to
make me howl like a wolf
and lull me to sleep."

[ It is the imagery that catches his attention first and he tilts his head to watch and to listen as she reads. Love and longing, courtship and desire - they are themes as old as the sun and the moon.

He thinks on that as he watches her sitting comfortably in the middle of his garden, on a loveseat made more for comfort than beauty. He notes the way the sunlight falls on her shoulders; patches filter through the trees mimicking a veil of light. ]

I like that one. [ His voice is not very loud, but even from this distance, he knows it will carry across the space between them. ] It reminds me of a verse from one of my favorites.

[One of the reasons that Eun likes poetry like this is not just the imagery or the feeling, but that the poet manages to pack a punch with so few words. They're short and full of meaning, and linger in her mind.

She looks up when he finally comments, and there is warmth in her smile as she nods her head in acknowledgment. Her curiosity is piqued as he continues, however, and Eun places a finger between the pages of the next poem to hold her place.]

Do you happen to remember it by heart?

[Could he recite it to her without having to leave to find a book?]

[ He smiles, turns to his rosebush, and then softly, as if confessing to a lover under the cover of dark: ]

Noche arriba los dos con luna llena,
yo me puse a llorar y tú reías.
Tu desdén era un dios, las quejas mías
momentos y palomas en cadena.

Noche abajo los dos. Cristal de pena,
llorabas tú por hondas lejanías.
Mi dolor era un grupo de agonías
sobre tu débil corazón de arena.

La aurora nos unió sobre la cama,
las bocas puestas sobre el chorro helado
de una sangre sin fin que se derrama.

Y el sol entró por el balcón cerrado
y el coral de la vida abrió su rama
sobre mi corazón amortajado.

[ He had come upon Lorca's work before the poet had risen to prominence. And had, at one point, skirted the edges of readings and performances to listen to the young man's work. He had to admire the poet's interest and attempt to capture the music and spirit of a time history only recalled in susty old manuscripts and monuments.

He wonders now, if it was because it was such a terrible period in his own very long life that had drawn him to the words. To follow such a bright star as it shone and plummeted to an early death.

Among the European immortals, there had been whispers and rumors, that Lorca or one of his fellows had stumbled past the veil and glimpsed the monsters that wandered the dark, hidden as normal people in daylight.

For Eun, he translates, roughly, cobbling together various translations to approximate what modern day writers aspired to: ]

Night approached us, the moon full.
I began to cry, and you to laugh.
Your contempt was a god, my laments
a chain of doves and moments.

Night left us. Crystal of pain
you wept over great distances.
My sadness was a clutch of agonies,
over your fragile heart of sand.

Morning joined us on the bed,
our mouths pressed to the frozen spout
of unstaunched blood.

The sun crept through the closed balcony,
and the coral of life opened its branches
over my shrouded heart.

Edited 2020-04-21 00:34 (UTC)

[Werewolf ears make it easy for Eun to hear his voice, even as he speaks softly to his roses. To her, perhaps. There's something beautiful about the romance languages that Eun can't help but envy. She grew up in a household that often used Cantonese, Korean, and she learned a fair amount of Spanish in school, but her primary language is still English, and there is something decidedly flat and clunky about it by comparison. Especially when listening to someone for whom Spanish is his native tongue.

The moment makes her feel positively spoiled, laying there on the cushions in soft sunlight among roses, listening to an attractive man recite poetry to her, the taste of him still on her tongue. His translation is appreciated as well, for while she caught most of the basic gist, she can appreciate it once more in words more familiar to her. By the time he finishes, Eun's expression has grown soft and thoughtful.]

It's lovely. Heartbreaking, I think, but lovely. I especially like the imagery with the sun and the coral in the last verse. The sunlight and the balcony... [Her lips curve up as she regards him from the short distance between them.] I think I'd gladly listen to you recite more in Spanish sometime, even if I'll miss bits here and there.

I would happily read you more. [ He steps away from the bush and comes over to crouch to a squat in front of her so he can peer up at her. ] And perhaps teach you, if you like, so you can appreciate the nuances more.

[ It was always tricky, translating the heart of poetry from one language to the next. Much of the essence - the soul - of a piece was lost along the way, and while expected, he cannot help but mourn the limitations of language. ]

A great number of his - Lorca's - poems are charged. Emotionally, politically. A cry in the dark.

run with wolves | open post.

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