One for the Money

Braeden Aldaine | 29 | Human | A Ruined-RP Blog

[braehavemercy-blog]

Quiet time || Kira & Braeden

kitsunexkira‌:

“Oh…..”

Kira really wasn’t sure how to respond. The gruff tone from the other one was enough to catch her off guard and so her brow furrowed into a pensive expression.

“I just thought…..I…..nevermind.”

She tried to offer her a smile, thinking that maybe the mood wasn’t being projected at her personally because everyone had a bad day now and again right? Though she felt uncomfortable at the way she was being looked over like she was little more than dirt on the sole of a shoe. Maybe it was personal after all.

“I don’t know you but you kinda seem…..angry?..or maybe not angry just annoyed….something on your mind–which is none of my business so I guess I will just be on my way.”

Kira figured that the best thing she could do was just leave the woman alone and go on her way. She wasn’t the confrontational type unless it was a matter of urgency and she could really do without any trouble at the moment. Yet as she turned to leave, the other female finally decided to open her mouth again and say something.

“Talk to me?…about what?..I mean I….”

Kira’s dark hues were now fixed on her but she never really got to continue what she was saying when suddenly her reflexes were tested. Quickly her hand came up to block the fist. She didn’t retaliate by throwing a punch herself but her defensive mode was the highest it could get and that was shown by the block to the next fist too.

“What is your damn…..”– the last word which never left her lips was ‘problem’ but she was far too peroccupied with making sure she came away from this unscathed.

The leg swipe was pretty damn quick and Kira felt the breeze from it but had managed to take a jump back out of the way. Only the position she was in now was full martial arts stance.

“Do not do that again….just don’t!–what have I done wrong to you?…I….I don’t even know you!…Are you insane?”

There was no indication of what Kira was at the moment. Luckily the bright burn of orange eyes had been under control for quite a while. Though this female was not making things easy.

If Braeden wasn’t so messed up she might have found the way Kira’s eyes widened amusing. She might have also been impressed by how quick her reflexes were, too. Anger overrode everything else. Undirected and inexplicable, her wild fury had nothing to do with Kira. It was all she could do to keep it from bleeding into her attacks as she continued to throw herself at the younger girl. 

It wasn’t rational, this anger she felt burning up her insides. It wasn’t fair that Kira was on the receiving end of it. There was nothing rational or fair about the fucking world they lived in either, so Braeden didn’t pause her attack to explain. She didn’t stop to praise Kira on her reflexes, or her footing, or the way she centered her weight. Instead she launched a full scale, unrelenting barrage of attacks on the young kitsune. 

Braeden didn’t want to hurt her. Her fists were loose, her impacts light. Her aggression wasn’t balled in the curl of her fingers, or in her viper quick jabs. Her aggression was within her rib cage, internalized where it could only hurt herself. The only thing she let it touch was her determination to test Kira’s mettel. As the younger girl dodged, parried, and blocked, confused and uncomfortable by the sudden attack, Braeden continued her assault undeterred. 

The quirk of her lips couldn’t have been further from amused when Kira assumed a defensive position, martial arts training evident in her foot placement. Braeden took a similar pose, eyebrow arched, smirk widening, before throwing herself at Kira once more. A volley of punches were unleashed at Kira. Each deflected blow, Braeden pushed herself forward, herding Kira backwards, busying her with defending herself as Braeden tested her, pushed her, found her weaknesses and her tells in a dance that nearly looked choreographed. 

Punches, kicks, jabs, swipes, her limbs were blurred, her pace was unforgiving, Braeden didn’t stop to answer Kira’s bewilderment. If someone was really trying to kill Kira they weren’t going to bother with a super villain speech. Bad shit happened to good people, and Kira had to be ready to fight for her fucking life. Because that’s what it would come to. That was what it would always come to. Good things weren’t allowed to exist, and Kira was about as good as it got. 

Still unloading a flurry of blows onto the girl, Braeden growled, “Fight back, Kira. Put me on my ass. Do it!”

[kitsunexkira]

Quiet time || Open

Kira had neglected her studies a little the last few days since hearing about Davina but had got back on track soon enough. Keeping her abilities polished and on form was something that was never neglected though and today she had taken some time out for herself to zone in on her kitsune. She had it under control but there was a time in the past when it wasn’t that way. Kira was once confused and had trouble understanding how to manage it, which resulted in loss of control and unpredictability. That was definitely not now though. Through hard work and a lot of determination and support, the young woman had learned control and she had excelled at being able to live her life alongside what was also within her.

—which brought her to today.

Kira was out of the way of the general public and giving some controlled freedom to the kitsune side of her. Would that actually be classed as an oxymoron though? because if it was controlled, then it wouldn’t exactly be freedom would it? Either way, she was fully aware of how mischievous and potentially dangerous it could be to give up control, so she always allowed a certain degree of freedom when alone–but not too much.

Her fingers were gently placed on the bark of an old oak tree, her eyes facing it so that nobody else would see if they were to suddenly appear–and yes, this does happen–especially in NOLA, they seemed to pop up at the most inconvenient time.

Slowly she summoned the power from within and felt the surge of energy flowing through her body and to her fingertips. Kira let her eyes become a glowing orange and it was then electricity came from her finger tips, her body covering any evidence should someone make an appearance. The bark of the tree burnt black but she was careful not to do any real excessive damage to it.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, her subconcious did hear footsteps approaching and Kira was quick to return to her normal stance and turn around swiftly.

“Oh Hi…I….well I guess it’s not just me who decided to go for a walk, huh?”

She shot the person a friendly smile and blinked.

“I mean…I assume that would be what you are doing.”

[braehavemercy-blog]

“No,” Braeden answered gruffly. She folded her arms in front of her bust and shifted her weight onto a hip. “I’m not out for a walk.”

Her dark gaze travelled up and down Kira’s form in a swift, assessing movement that came away not entirely impressed. There was a tightness in her jaw that was starting to ache dully, a hardness to her gaze that had made every person who’d stepped into her path leap quickly out of the way. Someone had actually lifted pacifying hands and murmured an apology for being in her way. 

Braeden was in a mood and had been since Cora revealed that Davina had died. There was something soft and sweet about the girl that Braeden had let herself become protective over. It was a resilient softness, a rare sort of sweetness. The kind that persisted even though this fuck-fest of a life kept trying to bring her down. 

Something in her chest had hardened a bit with the revelation. Fury and disgust had coated her heart in a thick layer of ice. Nothing good and kind was allowed to live in New Orleans. Especially not sweet little witches who wore sundresses and started conversations with strangers over books. She’d let herself start to care about Davina, soften toward her, and fate had ripped Davina from this world. 

She wasn’t so full of herself to think that those two things were related, but it was a familiar enough song and dance that Braeden hadn’t been able to sit still since. By now word had gotten back to her that Davina was alive, and it hadn’t changed anything. If anything her mood had continued to worsen. Braeden hadn’t been sleeping at Ric’s, hadn’t been sleeping at all. Instead she’d been riding her bike and fighting the itch to hightail it the fuck out of dodge, which was what she’d been doing when she saw Kira Yukimura taking a stroll by herself. 

Parking her bike, Braeden followed the girl. The last time she’d been to visit Ric at NOU she’d seen her on campus, talking to an Omega, and Braeden had wondered if Kira had even known it. She wondered if Kira would have even known what to do if that Omega made a lunge for her neck. So she’d followed Kira. Because Kira was sweet and soft and that meant that New Orleans would try to fucking eat her alive. 

Arms still crossed, scowl still in place, Braeden revealed. “I’m here to talk to you, actually. Well, not so much talk as--” She launched a fist at Kira with a force that wasn’t meant to cause damage. The strike was a test, to see how Kira reacted, to see what her reflexes were and if she knew how to defend herself. Her other fist followed the first, and was joined shortly by a sweep for Kira’s legs. 

While the punches weren’t meant to do any harm, the foot swipe would knock Kira on her ass if she didn’t react fast enough. 

[braehavemercy-blog]

Feast for Wolves | B&D

[braehavemercy-blog]

walkthroughhale‌:

Derek eyed the knife in her hand, not for any sort of fear but out of mild amusement. It wasn’t that Braeden didn’t know her way around a knife it was just that… well, she’d never use one on him and he damn well knew it. Her threats were empty words and he had to bite back the smirk that was fighting its way to the surface. “Promises, promises.”

Leaning back on his chair, the alpha watched idly as she piled on spoonful after spoonful. It was a damn good thing he’d prepared a feast because the hunter beside him was about to devour at least half of it… the wolf the other half. If Cora was lucky, he’d save some for her but at this rate… her chances were slim to none.

Still, he appreciated the enthusiasm with which Braeden shoveled the serving spoon into the heaping plates before her. It was the biggest compliment any cook could ever get. He knew what she was like whenever the wolf wasn’t around, packet meals, microwave dinners and dive bars were the only sustenance she needed most days… a fact that had Derek growling.

“You’ve missed my cooking, or you’ve missed me?” He waved away the sentiment as he reached for a second serving spoon, dishing up his own plate once the alpha was confident she was well under way of being fed. “Don’t worry, I know they’re one in the same.”

His smile faded slightly at the question of Hayley. A topic that was a little tough to swallow, given their circumstances. Circumstances that had little to do with his well intended, mental pun. There was so much history between the two seated at the table right now he’d almost braced himself at the thought of the conversation they were about to have… but the truth was, they had always known it was coming.

Perhaps it was the very reason that had kept them at arms length all these years. “She’s doing well, taking to it like… well, like she was born to do this.” It was true, being an alpha, a Crescent alpha nonetheless was in her blood, her birthright but that didn’t always make one fit to rule… “I’m fine…” He shrugged, working hard to keep his face neutral. Derek didn’t really know how far to take the conversation, wasn’t sure how comfortable Braeden would be… or he, for that matter. “Taking it one day at a time.”

His question didn’t even earn an upward glance. Braeden couldn’t look away from her food as she piled more onto plate, but her answer didn’t require a lot of thought, it came as naturally as the teasing between them. “Definitely your cooking.” Stabbing her fork into a zucchini, she finally spared him an idle look and a quick, unimpressed appraisal, muttering, “You are insufferable. Your cooking? I’ll suffer it any day, every day, all day if you let me. I’ll handcuff you to the stove if I have to.” Braeden happily popped the zucchini into her mouth and purred a happy sound that turned ravenous in a heartbeat as she dug into her plate. 

For a while, neither of them said anything. The only sounds at the table were the clinking of utensils against ceramic plates, and Braeden’s vocal approval of every bite. When left to her own devices, her diet was structured around microwave instructions, MREs, and whatever granola based bullshit would hold her over until she found her way into the nearest dingy bar with questionable healthcode procedures and grease heavy menu. The plate in front of her couldn’t be further from her norm, and Braeden could feel minutes being added to her statistically short life expectancy.  

The silence between them strained with the sudden weight of tension her questions had brought to the table, metaphorical muscles quivering to hold up what was typically casual, comfortable conversation. Not looking away from her plate, or stopping her eating, Braeden didn’t change her demeanor or react to the unexpected tension between them. They’d been friends long enough for her to know that Derek opened up on his own time. Staring him down until he answered her questions, trying to talk him into letting her in, reminding him that he was her best friend and that he could talk to her, were useless routes of coercion that would do the opposite of what she wanted. So she ate, ignoring the silence and the history between them, and waited to see if he’d break first.

When he spoke his answer did pull her hard gaze onto him. Mostly because it was a bullshit glaze job that answered the question without actually saying anything. She acknowledged the part of her that expected her insides to coil up so tight she thought she was imploding. Their history was… complicated. At one point in her life she’d thought she loved Derek, and Braeden did. She loved him. Truly, genuinely, wholeheartedly, just not… enough. Not enough to fully take down her walls, or to let herself get too invested.

Even if she wasn’t actually a hunter, she was raised to be one, trained in all the ways to wipe Derek, his pack, his kind off of the fucking map. If that wasn’t a hurdle unto itself, her job had her on the road more often than not. And, the cherry on top? He’d been promised to a stranger he’d only known because he’d gotten her out of New Orleans as a baby. Their romance was never meant to be long term. Her love was never supposed to be romantic. But neither of those things had ever meant as much to her as Derek himself and the friendship they shared.

So Braeden wasn’t upset that he was talking about Hayley, about how well she was doing, and how he was adjusting. Braeden was upset about what he wasn’t saying. They meant too much to each other to pussyfoot around the truth. And, maybe even to her own surprise, she didn’t feel the discomfort that she’d expected she would. It was a little weird thinking of Hayley as an actual person, not the faceless lost Crescent Heir betrothed to Derek since infancy, but it wasn’t the agony she thought it would be that the man who’d seen her naked both literally and emotionally was pursuing what had been promised to him. 

“Taking it a day at a time,” Braeden repeated, tone as flat as the look she was giving him. “Good talk, Hale. Glad we had the chance to catch up.” Huffing through her nose, she shook her head and refocused on her food.

Without looking up from the dwindling serving of deliciousness on her plate, Braeden advised, “Maybe skip the details next time. Better yet, words altogether. We’ll just communicate in grunts from here on out.”

[jenniferblake-blog1]

Roots Tell Tales || Braeden & Jennifer

[braehavemercy-blog]

jenniferblake‌:

“No. I doubt that we can.” she repeated quietly, “It wasn’t always so though, long ago factions still kept within themselves but there was a mutual respect and desire to remain away from the view of humans that all but a few held with. There may not have been companionship, but there was honour. Now, between the reckless actions of wolves, hunters and vampires we’ve torn that honour asunder.”

“The next step appears to be this town being poisoned from the Bayou and being unable to even recognise it until it’s too late. Perhaps The Nemeton will be satisfied with this one town, perhaps it will desire the continent; we can’t know. Even when it’s forces speak directly to you… it’s never clear.”

She was one of the few who’d communed with the stump and lived. Many lost their minds in the process; perhaps she had too for a time. The misty haze of her centuries spent vying for vengeance sometimes made her think perhaps she’d been but a pawn of the stump but… No. She’d wanted to tear those wolves apart, she’d been willing to do what she did for the power needed. For herself as much as the Nemeton she’d left the streets of New Orleans red with the blood of treacherous alphas.  

A long sigh left her lips as she turned to gaze once again at the twisted roots. “It’s the most logical step to take. The Harvest Witch is what the Nemeton is owed; that debt is what woke it.  Should that fail,” the Darach shook her head, “It will need something more powerful to lull it to sleep. I don’t know what that could be.” Alphas, Original Vampires… A Darach. “Something like this hasn’t happened before since, as I said, Factions held enough honour to remain out of one another’s business.”

If that would-be king had simply left the coven to their affairs all would be well and little would be different. Her eyes flitted back to the young woman as she stated the ultimatum, “That would be the raw unvarnished fact of the matter yes. In either case the city is in a far more dire state than I anticipated. I could possibly learn more if I communed directly with the Nemeton but… I’m somewhat hesitant to greet it in person.” Even from here she felt its seductive call.    

END

[braehavemercy-blog]

The Huntsman | A&B

venandi‌:

God, his lungs were burning. Maintaining a stoic expression whilst the warmth of her hand seeped into him was far too difficult. He’d known Braeden all her life. It was so hard to reconcile the woman standing before him with the scared and lost girl he’d taken in, so many years ago. 

The hunter had to focus on his breathing, the mere act of keeping a steady rythm flowing through his lungs helping more than anything else. “You leave my dark circles alone,” he bit back, a sly grin crossing his features. It wasn’t just Braeden keeping him awake at night that had them there. 

There was so much going on, things wearing him down- ageing him up… it was enough to leave him seriously considering his career choice. On a sigh, his eyes raised to level with that of the young hunter before him, he watched as she pulled herself away from the mahogany monstrosity that was his desk. Shaking out whatever tension was knotting her up inside.

On a sigh, he rose from the chair. Grabbing his cell off the desk as he closed the distance between them. “Let’s not pretend my sleep schedule wasn’t fucked before you came home.” The fact that she was looking at a fresh apartment gave the older man a kind of hope he wasn’t supposed to have.

“You know I’d rather be a drunken insomniac with you than sitting there, staring at a wall going batshit crazy on my own.” His way of telling her she was welcome any time, new apartment or no new apartment. He wanted Braeden to have her own space but sometimes he wondered if there was too much space between them… 

Shaking his head, he motioned towards the door. “After you, my lady.”

When Alaric stepped up beside here Braeden’s body seemed to move on instinct. It wasn’t conscious thought that lifted her hand from her side to grasp lightly at his forearm, thumb skating gently over skin his bunched up sleeve had left exposed. It was instinct. The same instinct that softly curled the corners of her mouth as she peered up at him, staring into eyes that had always offered unspeakable comfort in the worst of times, and other unspeakable things she couldn’t let herself think about. 

“Let’s not pretend I’ve been doing it any favors,” she rebuked, quiet tone teasing. 

Though the curve of her lips didn’t falter, she wished that the stress of his responsibilities didn’t keep him up at night. Gaze falling to the half moon shadows under his eyes, she had to wonder how much of his sleeplessness had to do with her. Not because she’d been keeping him up, but because she kept leaving. Braeden knew he worried about her when she was gone. What she didn’t know was what was more selfish, her leaving or her staying.

Amusement huffed from her nostrils and plucked at the corner of her mouth. “Is there a third option, because both of those are shit,” and you deserve better. There was gratitude in the way that Braeden squeezed his forearm before dropping her hand back to her side. She knew what point he was making, and she appreciated that he never turned her away. After losing her parents Ric had become the safe harbor she would always come back to. A harbor some ignored part of her was tired of sailing away from.

He motioned to the door and she cocked an eyebrow. “Lady?” Braeden asked, smirking. “You must have me confused with someone with more sophisticated.” She led them out of the office all the same, knocking her knuckles against the secretary’s desk as she passed it, a wink marking their departure with a wordless ‘don’t wait up.’

As they strode toward the parking lot Braeden stuffed her hands into her jacket pockets and glanced at Ric sidelong. “So,” she allowed an impish smirk to toy along the edges of her lips, her eyes glittering with amusement, even as her ribs felt tight around her lungs and hesitation twisted her gut a bit. “You seeing anyone? Couldn’t help but notice the way your secretary was making eyes at you. My staying over hasn’t disrupted your sex life; has it, Ric?” She bumped his arm with hers, her simper teasing even as her heartbeat stuttered, wary if his answer. “That’s really why you haven’t been able to sleep, isn’t it?”

[halexstorm]

Two’s company, or is that three? ||Cora, Brae & Stiles

[braehavemercy-blog]

halexstorm‌:

bicuriousbilinski‌:

He was halfway through downing his stolen glass of water when the pair of them decided to tag team him; one asking what he meant and the other just straight up dropping the penis into casual conversation. Snorting, he nearly choked. “Am I impl–no, god, no, how d’you even get– Cora, why is she holding a knife at –ohmygod.” The words tumbled over themselves on an exhale when she grabbed his chair and yanked him forwards, closer to both her and the steak knife in her hands. 

Yep, nOPE.

“It means ‘how’re you’, holy god, what is wrong with you, we’re in public!” In deference to being in public, his voice was a low, furious – lowkey terrified, shh – whisper. “And she doesn’t need my balls, thank you very much,” he cupped himself with both hands before she got any big ideas, “she’s got big enough ones of her own, are you kidding me with this right now?”

As soon as Braeden let go of his chair, it was with a wounded look at Cora that he immediately pushed himself away from the pair of them, though still technically at their table. He was pretty sure Braeden was laughing at him, but given how she still had a knife – sure, it was stuck in the table right now but that didn’t mean shit – he wasn’t about to call her out on it. 

“Remind me to never attempt pleasantries around either of you.” He gave them the stink eye and then sniffed. “What’s your last name?” He might’ve pushed his chair back a little bit more, so she couldn’t grab him as easily and he would’ve gone for the double whammy of ‘and how do you know Cora’ but she’d slid straight on into insults. 

His mouth opened, offended. “I’m not scrawny! I’m svelte, thank you very much. Underneath all this plaid I’m actually as–” he took her in and quickly changed his mind, continuing as though there’d been no pause, “–no where near as buff as you, but I’m getting there!”

He’d never felt more like a meme in all his life. I came out for a good time and I’m feeling so attacked right now.

“Your friend is mean,” he said, focusing on Cora, but keeping one eye out in case the other decided to move quickly; why were all the beautiful people so freaking dangerous? “I only came over to ask a question and I’ve had my manhood threatened unjustly.” 

@halexstorm

There was a moment when Cora thought Stiles might give up there and then and disappear from the table as quickly as he’d arrived. She couldn’t help but find amusement in Braeden’s words and shook her head softly whilst giving a small chuckle. 

“Relax….she won’t use the knife…not in public…not here.”

Her brow cocked at the other female as if to say, ‘you wouldn’t would you?’–purposely just drawing out the situation a little while longer. After all, Stiles had agreed to push Derek to see how far he could go without her brother tearing him a new one. So surely Stiles would see what was happening now, right?

“So I have balls but not a penis?”

She shot a look between the both of them, wondering how the hell it was suddenly on her.

“I could be offended…..”

She swallowed thickly, faking a pissed off expression but whilst she could continue this forever and a day with most people who she didn’t know or perhaps didn’t like, Cora did let a smirk slip with these two. 

“I know what you meant, Stilinski….I was just yanking your chain. And Brae…that is his surname…it’s his first name that is somewhat a secret….comes after McCall alphabetically apparently….I don’t have a type either…and he’s a friend…that’s all.”

Just then Cora felt her phone buzz as she received a text. She didn’t look at it straight away, instead opting to reply to Stiles. 

“What was your question?”

Casually she reached down into her inside pocket for her cell phone and took it out. It was only as she read the text from Derek, her expression fell to a more sombre and serious one. 

@braehavemercy

Catching the mock uncertainty in the wolf’s gaze, Braeden shrugged. Her disapproval of her best friend’s assurances was just as insincere. Knife still jabbed into the table, she pulled Stiles’ chair that much closer to her, muttering low in her throat, “Now, now, Cora. Let’s not go making any promises I have no intention of keeping,” without freeing him from her piercing glare.

When Braeden released the bottom of his chair Stiles launched himself backward, crotch shielded by his hands, looking put out at being ganged up on. Her smirk was pitiless, as sharp as her gaze. He had no one but himself to blame for inviting himself to their table. Even Derek knew better than to get too close when she and Cora really got going. The pair of them wicked on a good day, once they really got going… threatening castration was tame by comparison. Especially since she was joking. Mostly.

Even though she’d discarded the knife onto the table and had relaxed into her chair, knees spread, comfortably slouched, Braeden’s attention on Stiles was still predative when she offered, “I could give you the matched set, Cor.” She gave him a critical once over, muttering, “You’d probably put them to better use anyway.” When her eyes met with his again amusement tugged at the corners of her mouth. She swallowed back a laugh. Braeden was half tempted to fake a lunge for him, just to see how he’d react. This was fun. 

Her simper faded at the sound of his last name. The brutish mischief in her gaze turned thoughtful as she inspected his face more closely. While she was impressed enough that Cora had called him her friend, it wasn’t the reason she was scrutinizing him so closely. 

“Stilinski,” repeated Braeden, the puzzle pieces falling into place. “You’re the Sheriff’s kid.” She remembered him, always jittery and never able to hold still for more than a minute at a time. Before she’d let their legacy fade into obscurity, her parents had been part of New Orleans local law enforcement, too. Her dad had always spoken fondly of Lieutenant Stilinski. Her mom, too. 

Distracted by Cora moving out of the corner of her eye, Braeden moved her gaze from Stiles onto the wolf across from her. Her brows furrowed as she watched her best friend’s expression darken into something grim. Unease gripping her heart and pulling it toward her stomach, Braeden leaned forward to quietly ask, “What’s up, Cor?”

@bicuriousbilinski​

[halexstorm]

Two’s company, or is that three? ||Cora, Brae & Stiles

[braehavemercy-blog]

halexstorm‌:

bicuriousbilinski‌:

Honestly, the coffee shop within the NOU was more Stiles’ level and sure, yeah, they burnt their beans and the barista visibly looked put out whenever Stiles would stumble through the doors, but he felt more at home there than in this joint; it wasn’t so much as a cafe, but a fancy eatery who took pride in foam art. And the only reason he was in here, was because he’d seen Cora through the windows and figured seeking out her rather than Derek, or Scott, or Lydia, or anyone else really about the creep in the woods would fair better for him. 

Derek he’d get the Eyebrows, Scott would just kill him with puppy dog eyes and he felt like Lydia would slap him upside down the back of his head and yanno, he wasn’t in the mood to get assulted, even by the queen bee of the town. He hadn’t even done anything wrong! What was a bit of midnight detective work in the grand scheme of things? 

Swinging into the place, and pointing over to where Cora and whoever else she was with before someone tried to offer him either a table or the door, the dumped himself unceremoniously into a seat at their table, gatecrashing their conversation. 

“Lost? Naw.” He let himself sink into the chair a little more heavily. “Now thirsty, that’s a yeah – s’up, Cora?” he added, leaning over to swipe the jug of water on the table, as well as one of the, as of yet, unused glasses; he grinned over the glug glug glug as he filled the glass. “How’s it hanging?”

A casual lopsided smirk started to emerge on Cora’s face as her visual shifted to outside the building and the view that met her. Salvatore’s beautiful Camaro was situated further down the street.

“Brae, you sly dog you….”

Amusement flickered in her dark hues before she rolled her eyes playfully and let out a chuckle.

“A steak out, really?…c’mon…now that is cheesy….but yeah…I’m definitely down for a pub crawl.”—seeing how she couldn’t get drunk, may as well get a fight or two out of it.

She was just about to lean forward with her elbows on the table and suggest they make a move soon, when Stiles was suddenly there and seemingly making himself comfortable in the spare seat. For a moment she raised a slender brow and just shot him the usual unimpressed look. Yet the youngest Hale had got used to Stiles’ ways lately and didn’t care to admit she quite liked him.

“Take a seat, Stiles why don’t ya…..”

Her words dripped with sarcasm, but not in any nasty context at all, in fact, she was slightly amused, especially when she caught Braeden’s expression.

Oh this looks like fun. 

“How’s what hanging?”

She would never get used to that phrase. Luckily now though she was just playing around with him and knew what it meant. 

“Braeden…this is Stiles. He ain’t backwards at coming forwards…and Stiles…this is Braeden–another one not to upset too much if you know what’s good for you.”

Seconds --milliseconds-- away from grabbing the kid by his wrist and twisting until he was kneeling on the ground beside the table, Cora’s greeting stopped her from an aggravated assault charge. The familiarity in her tone gave her pause, it was her amusement that made Braeden relax back in her seat. While she didn’t move her piercing glare from the gangly man at their table, the sharp edge to her stare was more assessing than threatening. 

Clearly Cora liked the kid enough to welcome him to the table instead of telling him to fuck off. Question of questions was why.

When the wolf asked Stiles how what was hanging, Braeden chimed in with a flat, “I think he’s implying you have a penis, Cor.” Hand none too discretely grabbing the steak knife by the handle, her unwavering leer kept his gaze captive to hers. “You implying my girl has a penis?” 

She angled her chair, leaned forward to grab the bottom of his seat, and dragged him closer to her with a loud scrape on the polished hardwood floor that drew a few gazes. Steak knife jabbed point first into the table, Braeden’s voice was a low, menacing purr when she suggested, “I could give her yours, if you’re so curious.”

Holding his gaze for several heartbeats, Braeden allowed a slow, rapacious smirk to unravel over her lips. She looked exhaled a laugh and eased back into her seat before dropping the knife onto the table. Braeden peered over at Cora and her smirk widened, an eyebrow rose as she waited for her best friend’s reaction. 

An introduction was haphazardly made and Braeden’s gaze was drawn back onto Stiles. Brows furrowed as she inspected him closely. “Stiles,” repeated Braeden, testing the name, searching her mind for that niggling something that suggested that she’d heard it before. “What’s your last name, Stiles? And how do you two know each other?”

She shifted her attention onto Cora then, observing, “Manic energy isn’t your usual type.” Gaze sliding onto Stiles again, her glare turned stony. She kept the full weight of it on Stiles as she continued to speak to Cora. “Neither is scrawny.”

@bicuriousbilinski

[halexstorm]

Two’s company, or is that three? ||Cora, Brae & Stiles

“Okay, so lunch here ain’t so bad…I’ll give you that one this time.”

Cora shot Braeden a smirk and finished what was on her plate. It was a light lunch and Cora knew herself well enough to know she would no doubt end up at Derek’s later, probably claiming she was hungry and not eaten for a while. The Cafe Du Monde wasn’t her usual hangout, not for food anyway, but the company was good enough and she really wasn’t that fussy when it came to places where she would spend time. 

“You do realise I haven’t forgotten about taking Salvatore’s car for a test drive, right?”

Braeden had definitely hit the right buttons when it came this kind of subject and with her mentioning it recently, the youngest Hale had quietly been looking forward to it ever since. Some though–in fact most, would probably say it was a bad idea, but that was one of the things Cora liked about Braeden–she took risks and shared that spark which was missing with quite a few around NOLA.

“On another note…sometimes I really do need to kick some damn ass too.”

She raised her brow in the hunter’s direction and gave a nonchalant shrug. Abiding by the treaty and not harming any innocents, didn’t mean the fire in Cora’s gut had disappeared, it was always there and she really did like to get herself involved in the thick of things sometimes.

“A fight or two is good for the soul.”

Smirking at Braeden, she let out a sigh.

“So what you got planned for the rest of the day?”

@braehavemercy

[braehavemercy-blog]

Thanks to Braeden’s physical training and exercise regimen having a New York Strip for lunch kept her well within her ideal daily caloric intake. She’d had steak at more restaurants than she could name throughout New Orleans. There were only a few places she physically sought out for that kind of thing. To date, Cafe Du Monde was near the top of the list.

Plus it was easy on the eyes. Her job --the one that didn’t come with a badge-- ensured Braeden’s passport had seen plenty of use. One of her favorite things about traveling internationally was the diversity of architecture. With all she’d seen, there were still some places in New Orleans that made her ogle the rafters like a pilgrim at the Vatican. She couldn’t name a better way to spend her chill day than with her best friend, eating great food, in a place that looked so goddamn timeless.

It didn’t matter that neither of them exactly fit in here. A leather jacket wearing, biker chick scarred to shit, and an equally darkly dressed tough girl with nothing resting about her bitch face, it didn’t take much to guess why the tables surrounding theirs were a fucking ghost town. Dressed in black from head to toe, someone would think that they coordinated their outfits. With how well they knew each other, and how well they got along, they may as well have. 

Slicing her steak knife through the last portion of meat, Braeden peered up from her food to cock an eyebrow at Cora. “The fuck you think we’re doin’ out here, Cor?” she prodded before stuffing the red centered meat into her mouth. With a gesture toward the road outside the restaurant, she motioned the wolf’s gaze down the street to a beautiful and unsupervised 1969 Camaro convertible. 

“If we want to borrow that beauty without Damon getting in the way we’re gonna have to learn his routine.” Stabbing her fork’s tongs into the last peace of bloody meat, Braeden lifted it slightly and didn’t give the smirk fighting for her lips so much as an inch. “We’re on a steak out.”

At Cora’s mention of kicking ass, Braeden swallowed her food, set down her utensils, and wiped her mouth clean on the cloth napkin. When the napkin joined the silverware on the plate, reached for her glass of scotch, muttering, “Sorry about pulling you away from Lafayette the other night. You know I’m always down for a fight, Cor, but that was a bad spot to let one go down.” Shooting back a sip of that delicious burning liquid, when she set her glass back onto the table it was with the reassurance, “I’ll make it up to you, alright? Plenty of tourists coming through town this time of year, getting drunk and stupid. If you want a fight or two we’ll make a pub crawl out of it. Just like old times, yeah?”

Her grin was meant only for Cora, could only exist in her company. So when a lanky body plopped down in one of the two available chairs at their table, it disappeared in an instant. Replaced by an appraising glower and a curious up and down. “You lost?”

@bicuriousbilinski

[braehavemercy-blog]

lcstwxlf‌:

The wolf’s fingers adjusted on her glass as the other mentioned she was a hunter. Aside from the movement, there was no outward signal that the wolf’s guard and climbed back up a little higher. She trusted Derek and Cora’s judgement, but there was a small alarm going off in the back of her mind. Hayley hadn’t ever faced a hunter herself, but she’d heard enough to know they were no joke. She licked over her lips and offered a nod. “We all are born into things. Who we choose to be though, that’s up to us.”

“Highs wear off though. Always leaves you wanting a bit more.” Hayley pointed out. That was the trouble about things giving you an elevated sense of feeling. It always felt worse hitting the lows after that. Hayley had been an adrenaline junky before the boating accident. Ever since, she’d learned to soothe the itch with other, less dangerous things. It was how she’d gotten into carpentry. All of that frustration and anxiousness was easily funneled into a task, and Hayley just so happened to have been living with a group of other runaways, one of which was a carpenter and had enough patience to teach her. 

Hayley had never had a pet, herself. It oddly didn’t feel like a part of her childhood she actually disliked not having gotten to experience. Cats weren’t entirely fond of her, and it seemed a little on the nose to wind up with a dog of some sorts. Hayley shook her head, freeing herself from the thoughts of a pet. She relied on Derek to feed her, and that was a large indicator that she was in no condition to be taking care of a pet. Maybe at a later time in her life, she’d get a bird or something that didn’t require much handling. Or, she could just get her fill on other people’s pets and never tackle the issue at all. The brunette shook her head slowly, surprised she’d been able to get into her head as far as she had with another person sitting next to her that she wasn’t sure of.

“Did you ever consider just staying?” Hayley asked. From what she knew about the woman, she didn’t really have roots anywhere else. Why not just choose to settle down here and commute for her job whenever the need arose? Then, Hayley thought about her own past and realized just how hypocritical she sounded. Hayley couldn’t have been asked to put down roots either, not until Derek and Cora all but drug her home and led her to see how good things could be. She wondered in they’d tried to do the same with Braeden. Though, the brunette knew it wasn’t quite her place to ask such a question either.

Hayley glanced at Braeden’s shoulder and the line of discoloration from the scarring before looking back to the woman herself. For someone who was so trained, it surprised her that someone - a civilian at least - had gotten to her that good. Then again, Braeden wasn’t inhumane nor did her body possess healing properties. “Interesting way to try and one up the other. Ever consider something like, I dunno, darts?” At least that way no one was getting smacked with a beer bottle. Hayley understood the concept, but she got her fighting out in sparring, under the impression that any blows weren’t really meant to produce lasting harm. At the sight of an empty glass, Hayley reached for the bottle again and poured both their glasses once more. 

Sighing, the alpha set her attention to gauging how much shade was left on the porch and when the sun would finally win out and bask them in its afternoon rays. Hayley had other things to do, but she wasn’t ready to simply leave the conversation where it’d gotten to just yet. There was much about the other she wished to understand, and while observing from a distance would get her an idea; it would be a lot easier to inspect up close and personal. “You know I’ve never been on a bike.” Hayley said with a wry smile across her lips as her eyes ran into the other’s ride. It seemed silly, but the woman had never quite trusted machines without seat belts. A quirk in her otherwise daredevil teenage years.

Did you ever consider just staying?...

The question rattled around in Braeden’s head, bouncing off of the inner walls of her skull like a pinball machine. Had she ever considered staying? Yes. All the fucking time. Several times a goddamn day. Especially when that kernel of longing got so large she all but choked on it. 

Braeden wanted to stay. If she were honest with herself she’d acknowledge that she was scared to. More scared of it than she was sprinting headlong into gunfire or taking a knife to gut, both of which were checked off her bucket list. It was easier to hunt the thrill of high risk job than it was to face the reality of what was waiting for her here in New Orleans. 

The reality that quite possibly nothing was waiting for her here. 

Biting down on her molars, Braeden lifted her shoulders, aloof and dismissive, the turmoil in her chest not touching her features. “I have a place here. An apartment, if you can really call it that. It’s just collecting dust at this point, but…” she shrugged again. “I like to travel.”

It was easier to talk about the trouble she got into with Cora. The kiloton weight that had dropped to the bottom of her gut lifted at the mention of the gorgeous Hale sister. By the way Hayley’s hazel eyes glanced between her scar and her gaze, Braeden got the distinct impression that Lady Alpha wasn’t impressed. A suspicion that was further confirmed by the question that followed. Smirking softly, she fixed her jacket back into place. 

“Sure. We play darts all the time. Kind of low stakes, though. Don’t you think?” Braeden took her refilled glass and nursed its contents with a measured sip. Licking the remnants from her lips, she considered the female across from her, commenting, “You know Cora. A little excitement goes a long way with her.”

When Hayley turned her focus onto their surroundings Braeden shifted her gaze onto the cabin. She inspected its tidy exterior, the patio’s ceiling, the framing around the windows. The female had a nice little place on her hands. She remembered what it’d looked like before the alpha had taken up residence within. Fixer upper had been putting it mildly. Clearly with some love the place had gone a long way. Braeden’s gaze was drawn toward Hayley again. 

“You don’t say,” she replied smoothly, a smirk easing onto her lips. Leaned back comfortably in her seat, Braeden lifted her arm onto the back of her chair and linked her fingers together, not moving her focus from the female across from her. Head listing to the side, she wondered, “Do you want to? It’s easy once you get the hang of it. Liberating, actually. The Bayou’s the ideal place to learn if you’re up for it.” She waited tentatively for Hayley’s decision.

[braehavemercy-blog]

Late night encounters || Cora & Braeden 

halexstorm‌:

Cora thought on Braeden’s words and the only thing Cora cared about when it came to her own reputation was that there weren’t any lies woven into the comments made. She wasn’t bothered whether she was feared or not or whether she was liked or not. If she had to instil fear into someone who deserved it, then she would, regardless of whether they were scared beforehand. She understood with Braeden’s line of work though and how important it was when it came to reputation, so she did give a nod that indicated she agreed.

“Everyone knows you’re a badass bitch, Brae and they don’t dare fuck with you.”

The youngest Hale offered her a smirk because she was injecting a little humour but her words were very genuine and truthful. 

“What?…..”

Cora knew instinctively that Braeden was on with something just by the way her expression shifted. There was a flicker of excitement which ran through the wolf because she’d seen that look in the past before. Even if it was a little premature, Cora started to smirk as the first words left Braeden’s lips.

“I like where this is going….”

Her visual was fixed on the other female and a spark of mischief hit Cora’s eyes the more the other spoke of what they could do together. 

“I know Damon Salvatore….beautiful car too….”

She shook her head and gave a small tut.

“Brae….you know my weakness…and you are using it against me.”

Cars were definitely a big weakness and the worst thing was, cars that didn’t belong to her were a bigger weakness. Cora could be sensible and serious in many ways, but she had never quite got rid of her rebelliousness. Derek knew this very well–which was why she wouldn’t be telling him. 

“Hope this ain’t just a talk the talk moment…hope it’s gonna be a walk the walk too…because I’m in.”

It was wrong yes, but come on, it was the Salvatores and Damon more than deserved a little trouble, after all, he didn’t mind dishing it out sometimes. 

Sidetracked by the knife Braeden was showing her, Cora quickly took it from the hunter’s hand and smiled. It was like she knew just the right thing to say to the wolf and Cora was fully aware that Braeden knew her better than she cared to admit. 

“Oh, this….hell of a gift to give someone….”

She turned it over carefully in her hand, fingers slowly running across the metal but not stupidly enough to cut herself. Reluctantly she then handed it back.

“Sure he wouldn’t have turned down a blow job…probably would’ve found an excuse to gift you something else sooner than later in hopes of getting another.”

The edge of her mouth turned up into a wide grin, simply because it wasn’t something she would even dream of saying in front of Alaric. Not because there was any embarrassment, but banter in that context just wasn’t something she’d even done with the guy. 

“Good idea.”

Cora nodded approvingly when Braeden’s explained what she was searching for.

“Like I have said before…you ain’t just a pretty face are you…”–a wink followed which was interrupted by the noise nearby.

“Footsteps…footsteps that aren’t casual…more light…deliberately light…”

As she spoke, Cora’s line of vision was on the other female.

“They’re coming this way…your call. Hightail it out before they see what we were doing….or stay….”

That lupine grin was manna from heaven. Braeden lived for it. The only thing she loved more than seeing it was being the cause of it. Half of the trouble that they got into was because Braeden wanted to see Cora smile just like that. Sure that grin often came at the cost of a disapproving scowl from Derek but, if she were being honest, that was probably better incentive than discouragement. 

“What are friends for,” she rebuked with a shrug, unconcerned nonchalance in the movement, a subtle deviousness to the curve of her lips. An eyebrow cocked when Cora wondered if she was just talking a big game with no intention of following through. Still smirking, she folded her arms in front of her chest, observing, “Come on, Cora. You know me better than that. I never say anything I don’t mean or make promises I won’t keep. I want to take Damon’s car for a test drive, and I’d like your help making that happen. What do you say?”

Excitement crackled in her veins, red blood cells charged at the prospect of the hijinks to come. Braeden wasn’t close with a lot of people. She didn’t let herself get close, or let other people in. But Cora Hale owned a special place in her heart that no one else ever could. She was more than best friend. More than sister. There was something so much more profound in the bond between them. The same inexplicable, unnameable thing that she’d once had with Derek. And still did, it was just strained by a failed attempt at an unattainable more that hadn’t been realistic or sustainable.

She knew Cora better than most, but that went both ways. The younger Hale had seen her at a dark place in her life. Not the darkest, only Alaric had that privilege, but the runner up for Lowest Point in Her Life, for sure. She’d stuck around, and Braeden loved her for it. She trusted her with her life, and there wasn’t a damn thing that she wouldn’t do for the wolf. Except for giver her that knife. Braeden had every intention of getting her fucking knife back. 

“Right?” she agreed, watching Cora run careful, admiring fingers along the knife’s razor sharp blade. Though small, Braeden’s smile was pleased, proud even. It was a helluva gift. Alaric was a helluva man. Something inside of her twinged at the thought and, when she took the knife back from Cora, she also glided a contemplative touch along its edge. 

Exhaling an amused breath, she deadpanned an agreeing, “Knife for a blowjob? As far as I’m concerned, I’d call that a fair trade. But a blowjob for this knife?” Braeden shook her head. “It’s worth at least two, maybe even anal. Shame that I haven’t been able to replace the strap-on I left in Barcelona.” Nothing in her expression or tone gave her away as joking. Cora knew where to look, though. She’d find the spark in Braeden’s eye with no effort at all.

Joke though she might, trading sexual favors for goods swung a bit too close to prostitution. Then again, comparing job descriptions with any working girl, one could easily be mistaken for the other. The only difference between a mercenary and a sex worker was that she only got paid to fuck people over in a metaphorical sense. Clothes on, for the most part. Except for those unlucky few she caught at inopportune times. 

The topic was dropped at Cora’s praise. A sly smirk slithered a slow path from one corner of her lips to the other. With the bulk of the crossbow flung over her shoulder, she moved her index finger from beside the trigger and traced the edge of the scar that slashed down her mandible onto her neck. “Haven’t been guilty of having a pretty face in a while, Cor. I’ve had to compensate by being twice as deadly.”

Banter coming to a jarring halt, they were both quiet for a beat as Cora listened and Braeden struggled to do the same. Her hearing was nowhere near as sharp so if the she-wolf said someone suspicious was coming their way she wasn’t going to waste time asking questions about it. For nearly a minute that she felt every second of, she stared into Cora’s night darkened eyes and decided their next move. “Fuck,” she murmured, mind already putting together a strategy to ambush whoever thought it was a good idea to sneak up on either of them. 

It would be so easy, and there was no one she’d rather have watching her back than the female beside her now, but it wasn’t the smart move. They were a hunter and a werewolf in witch territory. She was armed with stakes and vervain grenades. If it was just a night patrol doing their rounds, she was going to have a helluva time explaining how this was US Marshal business. If it was someone looking for a fight, they were going to have a helluva time explaining how they hadn’t broken Faction code first. On the risk to reward scale staying to see if excitement would round the corner weighed too heavily on the risk pan. 

Braeden was reckless when she wanted to be. But she wasn’t fucking stupid. 

Eyes still locked with Cora’s she shook her head. “Too much to explain if shit goes sideways. We should head out. Let me buy you a few drinks.” With a jerk of her chin, she gestured for Cora to follow her toward the exit and away from potential fun. There was always next time. With how things were panning out in town, there would be a next time.

[braehavemercy-blog]

The Huntsman | A&B

venandi‌:

Braeden downed the last of her drink, slapping the glass onto the table as she rose from her seat. Suddenly, whatever he was saying didn’t feel quite so pertinent anymore- not whilst he was watching that perfect frame of hers round his large, wooden desk. 

He was struck stupid at the sight of her, every god damn time. It didn’t matter if it was the first time in days, months, years- or in the same sitting. She rested against the edge of his desk, a petite little thing against the size of the base. He fought against the urge to admire every inch of those curves as she leaned across him to dial the secretary that was just a few feet away.  

Were it any other day, he’d argue with the huntress. His schedule was always jam packed, today was no exception- but frankly, he didn’t have it in him. Brae had been back a few weeks now and aside from their sleepless nights, he’d hardly spent any decent time with her. Life just kept getting in the way, more so now with the shit they were all dealing with. 

A breath left him in a rush as her small hand found his shoulder, squeezing hard before moving to the warm skin of his neck. She was such a soothing presence in his life, he wondered how he ever managed to get through his days when she was gone. Her missions were few and far between but for the older hunter, they felt like never ending phases in his life without her. 

“Yep, that’s precisely why I needed you back here.” His voice was full of gravel as he spoke, the words barely a murmur. God, he missed her more than he’d realized. His eyes roamed her face, skirting over the scars that reminded him of all she’d been through and his heart ached at the thought. He hated her missions and every time she walked out that damn door, knowing that every time could very well be the last. Yeah, he was going. Any chance to soak up time with her, to hell with responsibility for an afternoon. 

“Where’re we going, chief?”

He was warm. He was always so warm. Not just physically. Alaric’s presence was the soothing, cleansing heat of warm water on an open wound. For over a decade that was exactly how she’d felt, like an open wound. Always bleeding or infected, unable to fully heal without his curative presence to act like a salve for her soul. 

Watching as her thumbnail scaffed over the scrape of his five o’clock shadow as she traced the line of his jaw, Braeden bit down on her molars. She grit her teeth against desires that always cut her visits home so short. Impulses that wrapped like rope around her middle, tied the other end to a paycheck, and yanked her so hard and fast from New Orleans that she got road rash, whiplash, and a grocery list of unresolved issues that were getting harder to ignore. 

Braeden needed this. If she had any hope of getting more than 2 hours of sleep at a time, she needed the calm Ric’s company always gave her, the peace his proximity provided. The other stuff, the shit she couldn’t say out loud or think about too often, the crap that chased her out of town toward jobs and assignments, could wait. She’d take those emotions out of their deeply buried vault later, when she had nothing and no one but a bottle of Jack to watch in silent judgement. Now she needed some alone time with Ric. Just the two of them, without the distractions of work or a cataclysm countdown.

Braeden smirked at the rough timbre of his voice, the octave so low she felt more than heard it, both in the center of her chest and somewhere deeper. “I figured as much,” she intoned in quiet reply. Her hand trailed up from his neck to his jaw, her thumb scatting just under his eye. A breath breezed from her nostrils, resolute. “Going by these dark circles under your eyes, I clearly have my work cut out for me.”

For seconds that dragged on too long --yet felt like no time at all-- all she did was maintain his gaze. When neglected, unacknowledged emotions tried to wriggle from their cage to see the light of day, she blinked herself back into focus. It was a concentrated effort to move her hand from her face and return it to her side. Braeden cleared her throat and pushed away from the desk, rolling her shoulders and her head on her neck, hoping it’d help to get her head on straight. 

At his question, she answered, “Apartment hunting.” She stopped behind the chair she’d been seated in before, a part of her wishing there was more furniture she could put between them while the other, much larger and louder part wished for the exact opposite. Braeden ignored both parts and everything else so she could explain, “My place has gone to shit and I can’t keep couch surfing. Cora and Derek are probably over it. And I’m pretty sure I’ve fucked up your sleep schedule with all the late night chit chat. If I’m gonna be here long, this won’t be sustainable for any of us.”

[recoltesorciere-blog]

Burning On Both Ends | D & B

[braehavemercy-blog]

recoltesorciere‌:

Were the circumstances any different, Davina would have laughed at the otherwise brass Hunter who had a ‘kick ass, can do, nothing phases me’ attitude 99.8% of the time but was, right now, clutching onto her hand that little bit tighter as they lifted through the air. The same Hunter who didn’t instantly let go the moment their feet touched solid ground.

“You’re damn right it’s faster.” She choked out a laugh, a distraction from the sharp pain in her chest. She was a burnt out shell and standing was taking too much of a toll on her weakened state. 

Braeden turned to inspect her, without ever dropping the witches hand. Keen eyes roamed Davina’s body again, assessing the crimson stained white fabric of her sundress and the pale colour of her skin. It was the same way Marcel looked at her, a kind of penetrating gaze that saw beyond the facade she always had up.

The grip on her hand tightened further as she was all but dragged towards the female’s motorcycle. It was obvious by the firmness of her words that there was no arguing or leaving here, unattended. Rather than wasting her breath, she waited for the female to slide onto the bike.

When Braeden was in position, feet firmly planted on the ground as her strong body held the heavy chunk of metal in place, she jumped onto the back. It was an effort, sports bikes were higher on the passenger side. Kicking the metal pedal above the wheel down, she climbed up and over, tucking her dress in under her to give whatever modesty she could- it likely wouldn’t last but it was late and she doubted anyone would notice.

Thank god Braeden was a good rider, given her lack of protective clothing and poor shoes. She didn’t have a helmet, either. She moved as close as possible to Braeden, wrapping her arms around the older girl’s waist as her chest came flush with the other’s back. Her thighs squeezed around Braeden for added support before tapping twice against her, letting the other know she was locked and loaded… and that they needed to get outta here before she passed the hell out.

Death warmed over would be an improvement to how Davina looked. Right now, coated in dust and dirt, and stained with blood, the tiny witch looked like a ghost; brought back by unresolved traumas to haunt a city that’d wronged her. Between the cool wind, eerie silence, and empty streets, Braeden could’ve been on the set of a horror movie. 

She was glad that D didn’t try to fight her. The tiny witch was either too tired to protest or hurting too badly to be wary of her. It was a dead give away to the rough shape that she was in, and all the more reason for Braeden to get her back to her place right the fuck now. 

Once she’d dragged her tiny witch to her bike, Braeden didn’t bother rifling through the saddlebag for the med kit. The kind of attention that Davina needed wasn’t something she could do by street light. Instead of wasting time fussing over her, Braeden removed her helmet from the tank cover and handed it to her. While D busied herself getting the helmet on, Braeden threw a leg over the seat and straddled her bike. 

The kickstand was heeled back into place, and she waited for Davina to settle her small frame into place behind her before she switched on the ignition. Braeden touched a hand to Davina’s on her middle in wordless instruction, unsatisfied with the girl’s grip. 

D was practically swaying on her feet. Braeden wasn’t going to take the chance of her falling off of her bike. She’d strap that witch to her fucking back if she had to. Fairly confident that the thighs bracketing her hips had a strong enough hold to keep her in place for a few miles, she gave Davina’s knee a reassuring touch before revving the engine and speeding into the night. 

Traffic laws and speed limits were ignored as Braeden raced through town toward her apartment. Thankfully the cops had somewhere else to be tonight, and it wasn’t that far of a ride from where they started to where they were going. Less than ten minutes later they were pulling up in front of Braeden’s building. She toed down the kickstand and killed the engine, glancing over her shoulder to see how the witch was doing.

“How you holding up, D?” mused Braeden, waiting for her dismount before she got off of the bike herself. Once Davina was on her own two feet, she took the helmet from her possession and gripped it one hand before tucking her arm under Davina’s to help her climb three flights of stairs. “I got you. You’re safe with me.”

Once they were up the stairs and past her door, Braeden walked Davina over to the small table in the small space attached to the small kitchen. She helped her into one of the two chairs, set her helmet down on the table, and immediately started to gather everything she’d need to get Davina cleaned up. 

After shrugging out of her leather jacket, the electric kettle was filled and set to boil as she got the first aid kit out from under the sink and washed her hands up to her elbows. It wasn’t long before the kettle was screaming and, before filling a large bowl with the piping hot water, Braeden prepared a mug of chamomile tea. The mug was set down wordlessly in front of Davina and Braeden claimed the only other seat available at the table. 

As she opened a package of gauze, Braeden gave the witch a clinical inspection, grumbling the reassurance, “I have EMT training, and I’ve patched myself up enough times to know my way around a suture needle.” She glanced up to meet Davina’s gaze and murmured, “You’re in good hands, D.”

[jenniferblake-blog1]

Roots Tell Tales || Braeden & Jennifer

[braehavemercy-blog]

jenniferblake‌:

Jennifer watched the younger woman for a minute and was satisfied at the lack of a verbal retort (what thoughts ran through her head Jennifer didn’t know and frankly she had no desire to know) never ask a question if you didn’t want the answer. Another piece of advice she’d learned from her coven in her younger years.

Witches had always been fonts of information they kept to themselves; druids instead learned all they could to share it and help the supernatural community… In the face of that one alpha had decided they should all die for a little extra power.

But, that was a past. It was finished on both side. The coven who’d raised her and wolves who’s ripped it all away were little more than bones now. She was the only being left who’d borne witness to all the misery. And now here she was dealing with even more. At least in this case she could be certain it was nothing to do with her.      

“Quite.” Jennifer deadpanned, it was something of a still to put so much feeling into a one-word reply but give the other was so convinced she over did it with her speech then why not play it up and out to see what happened. “And at this point it’s looking to be the only outcome that will be enacted. Unless all of the supernatural community comes together to try and manage it.”

It was too big of a job for just one person, or even just one faction. “I don’t know.” she answered quietly, shaking her head a little. “The Nemeton’s fickle. It hasn’t been active because one it wakes it can’t be controlled. The Harvest ritual kept it asleep for lack of a better term. We could give it the last witch and that death may not be enough.”

It may be all they could do was try and destroy it but that would be equally as difficult; it was a sentient being, it would try to defend itself however it could. “As for a time frame? At this point I’d say slow. It we act poorly or try and burn the bayou down or something then it will only expedite its actions.” she explained with a sigh.    

Arms folded over her bust, Braeden’s silence was pensive as she considered Jennifer’s reply. The supernatural community coming together wasn’t likely to happen. Sure New Orleans had The Faction, but a truce for the sake of the city was a long way from a kumbaya circle jerk. There was too much distrust between each of them for them to Mighty Morph into a single entity and save their town. Too many agendas were at play. Too much bad blood.

“Say we can’t get the supernatural communities to play nice long enough to overcome whatever this,” she lifted a hand from the crook of her elbow to wave at the twisted, rotting thing in Jennifer’s hand, “is. What options does that leave us with? What’s the next step?”

A biting response surged to tip of her tongue, a barbed observation on the ancient, double-crossing hag not actually knowing everything, but Braeden grit her teeth against it. She choked it back and swallowed it down. They’d already established that Jennifer was no good at scathing banter. She’d have a better time shaking hands with a blender than exchanging verbal blows with the harpy. So, Braeden kept her tone glacial and diffident, maybe even polite if Jen got imaginative. 

Peering sidelong at Jennifer, she wondered, “Would it be a start?” She turned to face her fully then, uncrossing her arms to shove her hands into her leather jacket’s pockets. “Sacrificing the last witch, I mean? If the witch is killed and the Nemeton still isn’t appeased, what’s the next move?” Braeden had killed before, sometimes because she had to, other times because she’d been paid to. But the thought of sacrificing the witch… it wasn’t sitting well with her. 

An exhale expelled slow and heavy from her nostrils. “So if we kill a witch that could satisfy the Nemeton, possibly. And if we decide we don’t like those odds and chose to come at the Nemeton head on, it’ll likely take us all down with it. Did I get all that?” Braeden shifted her gaze onto the woods surrounding them. Her brows were pinched with thought, her expression inscrutable. A gentle wind brushed her hair from her shoulder before she shook the strands from her eyes. “Doesn’t leave us with a lot of options, does it?”

[braehavemercy-blog]

lcstwxlf‌:

“I haven’t heard much.” Hayley said honestly. “I mean, I know the basics, but with trying to learn how not to run this pack into the ground, there hasn’t been time for much else.” The wolf said with a mild smile in return. Hayley wasn’t the type to go prying into Derek’s past either. The pair were alike in that they often just took what they were offered and were happy enough to have received that. Hayley listened intently, taking note of all of the little details that the other was offering her. “How exactly were you raised for the chase, if you don’t mind my asking? Run in the family?” Hayley ventured, trying to understand where the other had developed a love for running things down. 

“I imagine that all your hard work paying off should release some type of high in you.” Hayley felt the same about shifting. There was often pain that went into the act of shifting, but as far as she was concerned, there was no greater relief than being able to roam freely in your wolf form. Her lips curled into their own small smile at the thought of being able to run beneath the next full moon. With all of the chaos ensuing around them, it would provide a much needed release from all of the tension and fear boiling in the depths of her stomach.

Judging by the reaction that Braeden offered her, the wolf assumed she’d been fairly wrong in her assumption that chasing a cat had been an actual feature of her job. It’d seemed foolish to Hayley in the first place, but she’d come to know many more far fetched things that being paid to chase a cat were actually true. “Ah, now that makes more sense. I was beginning to wonder about what exactly was going on with your actual job if they were wasting your talents by sending you off to chase down stolen felines.” A real chuckle escaped her at that notion, but it was short-lived. Hayley didn’t wish to seem too comfortable or to make it appear that she thought little of Braeden’s job.

“People are saps for their pets.” Hayley agreed. She took another slow swig of her alcohol, taking few sips to prolong the burn that was rattling down her throat. A wayward glance went towards the still fairly full bottle on the table as she debated what pace to take in finishing her drink. While her system would burn off the alcohol before she could lose her inhibitions, she didn’t think she’d go beyond two drinks for the time being. So, she relented in her vice, setting the glass beside her on one of the end tables. 

The wolf would’ve been happier to sit in silence. It was easier for her that way, but alas, she didn’t know Braeden well enough just yet to anticipate that she might feel the same. So, when her question had been launched, the wolf was mildly surprised to see the reaction it elicited. She truly hadn’t meant any animosity behind the words. Hayley was sure both Hales would be happy to have the other girl around, and Hayley didn’t believe she’d mind the other’s presence. That assumption was based upon their short conversation now, but even that was enough of a read for Hayley to know that she wouldn’t hate the other’s company right off the bat. Surprisingly enough, the woman across from her seemed to be more alike to herself than she’d originally gave her credit for.

“Understood.” The wolf replied. Hayley would accept the shallow, run around answer for the moment. “I’m sure Derek and Cora will be glad to have an old friend around for a time. With everything going on,  I’d say the timing couldn’t be much better.” Allies were a good thing to have in your arsenal, and while Braeden owed Hayley little, they shared a common alliance with the Hales. They wouldn’t end up on opposite sides should this Nemeton problem begin to divide those around them.

Brows lifting the slightest bit at Hayley’s last question, Braeden had to laugh. She didn’t, physically, but the hilarity was there. “Yeah,” she answered, somehow managing to keep her voice both aloof and amused at the same time. “It runs in the family.”

She scratched idly at her temple, bracing herself for a reaction, even if she didn’t know which way the chips would fall. Unceremoniously, Braeden explained, “The Aldaines are a long line of Hunters. I was raised to be one.” 

What she didn’t say was that she wasn’t one. Not really. The supernatural beings she put in the ground were contract kills, for a considerable amount of money. She killed humans, too. And did other shit that utilized skills meant to control a population. What she liked to call by its dictionary definition: ethnic cleansing. 

The notion of her hard work resulting in an endorphin rush made her crack a half-smile. “It’s a helluva runner’s high, for sure,” she conceded with a huff. 

She couldn’t really put to words how good it felt. Not in a more eloquent way that she’d already tried. Even without the hunter elitism, the instincts to chase were deeply ingrained. Her skills were too honed to go unemployed. And she enjoyed the action too much to stay out of it. Braeden enjoyed what she did, without shame or remorse. 

The quirk of her brow was agreeing when Hayley observed the weakness people had in regards to their pets. She didn’t voice her agreement, just huffed a congruent exhale and lifted her glass to her lips. Nursing her drink, Braeden welcomed the quiet that took a seat at their table. For a few seconds the only sounds between them were that of the light breeze rustling through tree branches, and of the wildlife that filled them. It was a comfortable quiet, the kind that would’ve lulled Braeden into relaxing if she wasn’t seated across from a stranger. Had it been any of her three favorites, she’d have taken her butterfly knife from her pocket and played with it like she was prone to doing when she was sufficiently serene.

Fortunately she wasn’t dumb enough to draw a weapon near a werewolf alpha she didn’t know. Not after her earlier confession. That and Hayley spoke before the impulse could nag at her. A probing once over didn’t help to clarify where the question came from, be it suspicion, distaste, or simple curiosity. It was an innocent enough question that Braeden decided not to read into it. Nothing came at face value in New Orleans, but Hayley didn’t really seem the type to play those kinds of games. If she said she wasn’t trying to give her the boot, Braeden was going to take her at her word.

“It’ll be nice to spend time with them while I can,” she confessed allowing the ghost of a smile to brush over her lips. A smile that grew as a memory floated to the surface. “The last time I was here Cora and I had a running tally to see who could start the most bar fights.” 

Braeden moved the collar of her leather jacket and the strap of her tanktop underneath, revealing a semicircle of faded scar tissue and offered the explanation, “That’s how I got this one. Someone came at me with a broken bottle. Cora’s parting gift to me. She knows me a little too well.” She moved her clothes back into place, downed the rest of her glass, and huffed a laugh. A part of her couldn’t wait to see what kind of shit she and Cora might get into this time around. If the city didn’t implode first, of course.

[recoltesorciere-blog]

Burning On Both Ends | D & B

[braehavemercy-blog]

recoltesorciere‌:

Braeden was talking but it seemed to be words spoken on auto pilot. She was already patting the witch down, feeling for any breakages herself- as if that was the only way she’d be complacent enough with a response. If it didn’t hurt so much, she’d have smiled.

Davina did as instructed, moving the various parts of her body until Braeden was content in the knowledge that nothing was broken, that she was okay- for the most part. Normally, the witch would argue but it was clear as day on the Hunter’s face and frankly, she didn’t have it in her.

A hand reached out to Braeden, touching her gently on the forearm. “I’m okay, honestly. I’m sorry.” There was really nothing else she could say, she had no clue what had happened. Well, that was a lie- she knew exactly what had happened but the shock of it literally levelling out a city block was too much for her to comprehend right now.

How the hell was she supposed to explain this one? Not just to Braeden, it wasn’t like the girl had to hide from the older female on this occasion but damn. She glanced at Braeden, who’d just asked out loud another thing she’d been wondering herself. Could she walk?

On a harsh grunt, the witch managed to lift herself to a standing position. The body seemed fine, but her head- the ache was blaring against her skull. She was going to feel this one for days. It was getting worse, the magic, the build up… Davina feared the next time this happened.

Swiping at the blood staining her cheeks, she tried to focus on the task at hand. To lift them up and out was going to take whatever was left of her energy. Her hand found Braeden’s, interlocking their fingers as she glared at the surface. 

Channelling all of her magic into levitating their bodies up the several metre gap until they were firmly on solid ground. Looking around at the devastation around them, the witch wondered if she should fix the bulk of it before anyone noticed, or blame it on the ‘earthquake’… 

At the feeling of Davina’s small, delicate hand on her forearm, Braeden held the diminutive witch’s gaze, placed her hand on top of hers, and squeezed gently. She was relieved that Davina was as okay as she could be, all things considered. She was conscious and nothing was broken. That was as good as she could hope for under their current circumstances.

Pushing herself onto her feet, Braeden replied, “I don’t need you to be sorry, D. I need you to get up.” She couldn’t build a ladder out of apologies, and regret wasn’t a nylon rope that would get them out of here. 

Maybe it was crass, but Braeden hadn’t been coddled a single day in her life. She’d been raised a warrior, and warriors didn’t waste time with ‘I’m sorry’s when actions spoke louder than words. Actions got results. Actions would get them out of this damn hole. She appreciated the apology, but she’d appreciate an emergency evac a helluva lot more.

She grabbed Davina by the bicep when she tried to get herself upright, helping the younger girl back onto her feet while looking around at the hollow they’d dropped into. A whistle cut out of Braeden and echoed into the dark. She could just make out a stretch of cobbled brick and masonry in the moonlight. 

“That’s one way portal to Valhalla,” she muttered, resisting the urge to explore the subterranean infrastructure. Who knew what was down here? Probably just the sewer system, but underground tunnel systems were also prime real estate for newling vampire dens. Among other ghoulish beasties that liked dark, dank places.

The feeling of Davina’s hand slipping into hers brought her attention back onto the tiny girl beside her. Their fingers interlocked and she gave Davina’s hand an encouraging squeeze. It was only when gravity stopped working that she realized what the small witch had in mind. 

Braeden ignored her lizard brain, those self preserving instincts that were screaming at her to freak the fuck out and latch onto anything that would keep her grounded. Instead she tightened her grip on the hand in hers and kept her breaths steady, keeping still as they both levitated from the hole back up onto solid footing. 

Night greeted them with a breeze and Braeden breathed in the dewy scent of the surrounding flora. “I guess that was faster than navigating the sewers,” she muttered flatly, just about to release Davina’s hand from her hold until she turned to inspect the witch anew. At the sight of Davina face, neck, and dress stained in her blood, her dark hair powdery with dirt and dust, and the various cuts all over her body, Braeden tightened her grip on her hand, and started to pull her toward the Suzuki GSX-R600 parked nearby.

“Come on.” Her unyielding, commanding tone didn’t leave a lot of room to argue. Neither did her grip. “We need to get you cleaned up. You’re coming home with me.”

[braehavemercy-blog]

Feast for Wolves | B&D

[braehavemercy-blog]

walkthroughhale‌:

“Tag line, statement of fact, the reason you’re here… you pick.” He shrugged, nonchalantly as the Hunter sniffed around the table, clearly checking to ensure everything was exactly where it should be. God, he loved pressing her buttons. It was just too damn easy.

Evidently satisfied with the spread, she plopped graciously into a chair beside him, fishing out a knife and fork in preparation to dig in. “Shut up, you know you love me.” He didn’t blame Braeden for preferring Cora over himself, he could be as much a pain in the ass as a certain human he’d grown a secret soft spot for- not that they were discussing that.

Thankfully, Braeden loved them both. “Yeah, well, I’d like to see you try.” He enjoyed riling her up, it was far too easy to push her buttons. A chuckle escaped him at her quip, leaning back on the chair to watch her dig into the food. A large spread of salad, fresh cut meats, olives and cheeses, roasted chicken and steamed vegetables.

“You know it’s worth it, or you would never have left Auggie’s.” And by that, he meant both the food and the company. “Though if I’d known you were with Cora, I’d have gotten her to tag along too.”

She glanced sidelong at Derek, eyebrow cocked and expression just impassive enough to be teasing. Her fingers curled meaningfully around the knife in her grasp, and Braeden mused, “You willing to bet your life on that love, Hale?” Turning her face toward him fully, she muttered a challenging, “Tell me to shut up again. See what that love gets you.”

It got him a lot and he damn well knew it. Whatever toothless threats she made while wielding a steak knife, she’d never do anything to actually hurt the wolf. Besides, if she did cut him, he’d just heal in a matter of seconds. But, again, Braeden would never do anything to actually hurt Derek so any threat to the contrary was just part of their banter. He loved to rile her up, and if he were anyone else she wouldn’t take the bait. 

Piling food onto her plate, a scoff sounded from her and a grin surfaced on her lips. “Fine,” she stated, almost cheerful as she loaded her salad with meat, meat, and more meat. “How about after lunch?” A second spent calculating how much food was on her plate and how full she’d be by the time she scraped it clean, was followed by the addendum, “Half an hour after lunch. We haven’t sparred in a while, and I’d hate for you to get rusty.”

She flashed him a goading grin before she dug into her plate with the enthusiasm of someone half starved and fully feral. At the perfectly juicy goodness of the roasted chicken, Braeden made a sound that was something between a sob and a moan, her head thrown back as she was subdued by the assault of flavors there was no bracing for. 

“Ohmygawd.” She groaned around a mouthful of food, on the verge of weeping from how good it was. Somehow she managed to do the impossible and use her words between shoving her face full of deliciousness. “I’ve missed your cooking so goddamn much.”

Too busy enjoying her food to pay too close attention to the Alpha beside her, Braeden re-entered their conversation with a distracted, “Hmm,” before his statement registered in her mind. She waved off both his arrogance and extended invitation, mumbling, “Isaac was coming in as I was leaving. I’m sure he was more than happy to keep your sister entertained.” A gauging glance was tossed his way before she devoted herself again to eating. 

The next few minutes passed with her scarfing down lunch like she was afraid someone was going to steal the food right off of her plate --as if anyone was that stupid. When she’d eaten enough to fall from ravenous to edacious, Braeden gulped down some water before asking, “Tell me about Hayley. How has everyone adapted to her being around? How are you adapting?” She tongued a piece of chicken loose from between her teeth before digging back in again.

[braehavemercy-blog]

Late night encounters || Cora & Braeden

halexstorm‌:

It seemed quite weird to Cora that the people she got along with the most, were those who had trouble spilling their true feelings, or if they did, they never seemed to explain it in the right way. Cora was exactly the same and the only thing she thought, perhaps it was because she could relate to them. After all, being shit at talking about your feelings, is far better than being shit at being someone’s friend. The latter was the description of Jennifer Blake and a whole lot more. 

The expression Braeden was directing at Cora, only made the wolf raise a slender brow as if to question, ‘what?’–though that word never materialised into any volume. Cora had actually punched people for far less stern expressions like the one she was witnessing right now. Yet there was no irritation or annoyance felt from the Hale wolf and she knew why but didn’t air her thoughts. 

“I never stated I cared…I never stated I didn’t….it’s open to interpretation, Brae.”

She inhaled deeply and shot her a rather bored look, though in truth she wasn’t feeling that way at all. 

“Couldn’t give a shit what people think of me either way…why….do you care about your reputation?”

Cora wasn’t sure she even had one herself. There had been far too many presumptions about the Hales in general and plenty of folks chose to form their own opinions without truly getting to know her. Though this was her own fault too because Cora didn’t make it very easy. For some in New Orleans, it would be quite impossible to spend more than half-hour with the wolf and not want to get the hell out of there. She offered a good degree of awkwardness to a situation and could quite easily induce a heavy atmosphere to even the best conversation when she chose to. 

Curiosity had found Cora stepping back towards Braeden as she watched with interest once more. Even though things could get very lively some days, there were plenty of quiet times too and she did live for a more than healthy dose of excitement. So she was happy to take hold of the crossbow.

“Step up your game, Brae…I need it…and besides–if not, I might have to go with the saying about…’lead me not into temptation…I can find my own way there.”

She offered her a playful wiggle of the brow and then looked down to what she herself was holding. 

“I like these…though knives have always been my favourite.”

She had always loved a good sharp blade and still had the knife one of her other siblings had given her years ago. Her mother would have thrown a fit if she would’ve known how young she was when she owned her first blade. 

Passing the crossbow back to her, the wolf rubbed her hands down the thigh of her jeans, wiping some dust onto them but not being bothered by it. 

“Were you expecting to find something more specific?”

Her line of vision left Braeden and went over to the far east side of the cemetery. 

“I heard something…..

The scoff that cut out of Braeden was dry and humorless. She glanced up at Cora and smirked through the reminder, “I’m a mercenary, Cor.” Moving her focus back onto rummaging through cobwebs, dirt, and dust, her voice was strained by the effort as she said, “My reputation is not only how I get jobs, but how people know not to fuck with me. So, yeah, I care.”

When word of mouth was how you got business, you learned to cultivate the kind of reputation that attracted serious, high paying contracts. She didn’t have the luxury of not caring what anyone thought of her. A lot of blood, sweat, and tears had earned her the reputation she had --her own, as well as that of her various targets. Now the right people knew her name, what she was capable of, and that she was worth every penny.

A smile cracked over Braeden’s mouth when Cora lit up at the crossbow extended her way. The way she perked up reminded her of a cat with a ball of yarn, pupils dilated, ready to pounce. It was a look that she imagined Alaric saw on her face pretty often. There was nothing better than getting her hands on new toys, and she was quick to snatch them out of the old hunter’s hands before he could try to keep them from her. It was nice to see that her fascination with deadly things was still something she could share with the she-wolf. 

Grinning up at Cora, tongue in cheek as she regarded her, Braeden welcomed the challenge of corrupting her best friend. She disregarded the voice of reason that whispered a warning about how Derek might feel about her getting his sister into trouble. She’d never let his disapproval deter her in the past, why start now?

“Alright.” Braeden rose to the occasion, literally as she stood up and brushed her hands clean on her dark wash jeans. “If you need excitement, I have just the thing.” Her grin was broad and taunting, alight with the kind of excitement only mischief with Cora could spark. “Vampire bad boy, Damon Salvator has a 1969 Chevy Camaro Convertible that I’d like to take for a test drive. Help me borrow it.” 

It’d been a while since they’d done anything like this. Braeden liked to keep her skills sharp, and grand theft auto was a pretty good team building exercise. She wouldn’t call taking Damon’s Camaro out for a joy ride low risk, his was a notoriously short fuse, but she knew for sure that he wouldn’t report it stolen. So there was a low chance that the cops were going to get involved. Smirking wickedly, Braeden waited to see if Cora was up to the challenge.

At the mention of knives, Braeden grinned, reaching for the sheath attached to her belt and strapped to her thigh. “Check this one out.” The bowie knife’s black blade had a serrated saw back and was perfectly balanced. She held it up for Cora’s inspection, still simpering proudly at her newest toy. “That’s 10.5” of epoxy powder-coated carbon steel, sharp enough to shave the hair off your arm dry. Ric gave it to me as a ‘welcome back’ present and I came ‘this’ close to giving him a thank you blow job.” Laughing, Braeden waited until Cora was done admiring her knife before she slid it back into its sheath.

The crossbow was also returned to her possession and, shouldering the bulk of it, she picked the duffel up by the straps. Adjusting her grip, she shrugged in answer to Cora’s question. “Low expectations saves me a lifetime of disappointment.” After a wink, Braeden offered a broader explanation, “I was hoping to find some cursed objects. Hunters use them sometimes to disable targets, weaken them over time. We take advantage of whatever can give us an edge and, with how shit’s playing out in town, I’d like to have as many advantages as possible that’ll help keep you, your brother, and Alaric safe.”

When Cora stiffened so did she. Braeden stood still and strained her senses as far as she could, listening for whatever might have set the wolf on edge. Quietly, she asked, “A big something, or like an opossum something?”