occasionally subtle
YOU ARE THE REASON
d e v o n
almost home
trying on a metaphor
#extradirty
PR's Tumblrdome
No title available
⁂
Kiana Khansmith
cherry valley forever
Misplaced Lens Cap
Sweet Seals For You, Always
TVSTRANGERTHINGS
hello vonnie
No title available
tannertan36
pixel skylines
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year
official daine visual archive
seen from Brazil
seen from Thailand
seen from China
seen from United States
seen from T1
seen from Germany
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from Israel
seen from Singapore
seen from United Kingdom
seen from China
seen from Indonesia
seen from Singapore
seen from Tunisia
seen from United States
seen from Mexico
seen from Sweden
seen from Türkiye
seen from Uzbekistan
@enyakovar
"I'm surrounded by idiots."
A groan escapes her lips, eyes closing as fingers move to rub circles upon her temples, and the alpha growls softly, unheard by mortal ears. A glance up, and she cringes in annoyance.
"Idiots. Everywhere."
;;﹣ ᴀ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ʟᴏsᴛ ( enya/clayton )
It always disturbs him, having to watch another creature eat their own flesh. Clayton waits whilst Enya finishes, the moon now brilliant and white above their heads. His sleek brown tail hangs low and still between his hind legs, as though afraid to make even the gentlest of sways. In the many months he’s spent with the pack, he’s learned to hold his calm whenever they harass him. Striking out is only a waste of energy. And so, too, is standing up for himself.
Which is why he merely dips his head in acknowledgement at her words, thrumming like distant war drums in his ears. Maybe he doesn’t know it - or maybe he doesn’t want to admit it - but he’s lost respect for himself, just as the other members have. And that respect was discarded long before he even joined them. It started disappearing when the name-calling became physical violence, and when the physical violence became nightmares. He was helpless. He’s always been this way.
This is me. There’s no point in changing what my life is like. This is all I’ll ever know.
But the wolf is different. The wolf inside him is proud, and hungry for revenge. It feeds on his innermost thoughts, the ones he banish and refuse to nurture. The wolf can smell the minuscule changes with every shove and every slur from his pack members. Clayton won’t ever own up to his resentment, but the wolf isn’t as shy.
In the eerie silence after Enya’s howl for the others, his wolf takes over. As Enya leers down at him, for the first time ever, he snarls back, canines bared, eyes staring straight into hers with venom. The wolf says nothing, knowing that the act of retaliation would be more than enough to tell her what’s on his mind.
Clayton panics. Fuck, FUCK. He battles to become the master of his body again, but the strength of the moon makes it harder than ever. He can only writhe in his head, watching in horror from the wolf’s perspective as it holds Enya’s glare in a disrespectful sneer.
She is unforgiving.
She is dangerous.
She is the Alpha.
There is a reason she is so, a reason why she now stands in her father's place and it is not because it is her birthright -- ( though the blood that pumps through her veins does pump pure and true ) --. She is the alpha because she fought for the throne, she killed for it. And she has no qualms killing for it again.
To be challenged now, and to be challenged by the likes of Clayton Doyle, causes ice to seep in to her bones, her eyes to darken with obvious malice and a growl to tear from her lips. Who does he, a mere mutt of a wolf, think he is to snarl at her? Teeth bare, an almost hiss slipping through sharp canines and the alpha strides forward. Head lowered, body tense, she stalks towards him as hunters do their prey, claws flexing in the soil beneath her and fur standing on end. All she can hear now is the snarling of the omega in front of her, the howling of their packmates in the distance but she silences them in her mind, focusing solely on Clayton as she snaps at the air in front of him, teeth barely grazing his muzzle.
She growls.
She snarls.
She strikes.
Her paw comes up, claws scratching along the side of the wolf's head as she bats at him violently, springing forward and twisting as she does so, teeth sinking in to the younger wolf's neck, drawing blood. Pouncing over him, she knocks him to the ground with her hind legs and turns, standing over him with a menacing stare, fury nearly shaking her as her teeth once again bare, now coating in his blood.
She is unforgiving.
She is dangerous.
She is the Alpha.
Something he seems to have forgotten, for his place is now lower in her eyes than it ever was before and her desire to simply kill him and be done with it only grows stronger. One does not simply challenge the alpha and get away with it. She says nothing, simply stares him down and glares, blood dripping from her lips. She waits -- for an apology, an explanation, retaliation -- what ever he chooses to do will decide his fate and he should be grateful she is being so merciful.
Marius is busying himself with the process of getting his files and coat out of the car when he hears it, a loud thump followed by a curse and he watches with amusement as a woman fiddles with the engine of her car. It’s not that she cannot seem to fix it that amuses him but more how worked up she’s getting over something so small. Still he has never seen around town and being nice to newcomers is always good. Who knows, he might be meeting a prospective client. He closes his car’s door and leans on it, calling out to the woman. “You should call Joe, our mechanic. Or walk down to his garage, it’s only a few blocks away.”
To be seen in such a state is not something Enya was all that happy about -- to be interrupted whilst in the midst of what could be considered a tantrum only makes her all the more irritated. But, and she's had quite some practice in doing so, she manages a small smile belying her distaste. "I know where it is -- I'm new to town, but not that new." Her jaw tightens though, as she turns to glance down at her car with a glare. "This is the second time this has happened this month -- I'm considering just getting a new one." And she could, if she wanted to.
But small talk is not Enya's strong suit, she's adept at it, sure -- but the idea of conversing at all is not something that particularly appeals to the alpha, especially with one whom must depict her as a damsel in distress... which, she's not. She's just -- distressed.
you can call me queen bee ;;- an enya kovar moodboard
;;﹣ ᴀ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ʟᴏsᴛ ( enya/harlow )
She felt it. It was strong and dark. The aura of this woman had finally reached her. It nested its self deep into her bones and decided to settle. This woman held a darkness to her and Harlow couldn’t help but flinch at the laughter that echoed in the air bouncing off trees. Could it be called laughter? It was more of a cackle.
She didn’t know what this woman was, a vampire, a werewolf, something worse but Harlow didn’t want to stick around to find out. She wanted to cut her time short with the stranger in front of her but knew that if she was already in her sights, she couldn’t get far.
There was a fear, of course there was fear but Harlow didn’t regard it as a weakness. It was logical to be afraid of the darkness in front of her and that fear didn’t turn her into a coward. She was still a warrior, someone trained in battle, skilled even if she hadn’t fought in months. The fear was dimmed by knowing she wouldn’t be completely defenseless if this creature planned an attack.
A growl. A warning and Harlow took it. She didn’t try to be polite by saying goodbye instead she turned and headed for the darkness of the canopy. A brisk walk in the direction leading her home.
Her forest wasn’t safe anymore, animals in inhabited it, the wrong kind, the twisted ones. It felt like history was repeating itself again. A threat in her own back yard.
She watched with rapidly darkening eyes as the other seemed to pause, as if listening to her very being before turning on her heel, and running. Enya almost laughed, but somewhere deep down a glimmer of approval burned deep within. The girl listened -- she'd probably just frightened her beyond comprehension, but she listened... and Enya always liked those who obeyed her easily.
The sky darkened more, the moon beginning to rise, and bones began to break. Blood began to drip from the tears in her flesh made by her own hands and yet Enya continued to stare ahead, watching until even her heightened senses could not see the stranger whom had offered her assistance, before she fell to her knees and howled.
THREAD END
;;﹣ ᴀ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ʟᴏsᴛ ( enya/harlow )
The smirk that appeared on the stranger’s face sent a chill down Harlow’s spine. With night quickly approaching, even she had to admit that an eerie feeling began to settle. She no longer heard the rhythmic chirping of birds or ever so subtle snapping of twigs from scurrying animals. They all decided to disappear when Harlow needed the comfort of their presence most.
The trees grew darker and she looked to the sky to see how much more time before it was completely dark. Instead she saw the clouded outline of the moon, full but dim, waiting for the sun to completely disappear and give it a chance to shine.
A full moon. Maybe that’s why she felt so threaten. Harlow had learned quickly that humans had a superstitious that a full moon played with people’s emotions. It brought out the wicked side to them and that look in the woman’s eyes made her feel on edge. She felt another chill run down her back.
But until now, she’d always felt safe in the forest, always comfortable. At home. Her home. There was a stillness she preferred over the crowded town. One she only found in nature.
”What’s there to be afraid of?” Until now nothing. She straighten her stance, crossed her arms. Whoever this was, or whatever didn’t matter. She wasn’t going to let her fear show.
Her full weight rests now, on her previously injured ankle. Testing it's strength and smiling slightly at it's competence. She had always been a fast healer, even for a wolf, and she's just lucky it was a longer drop. The longer the drop, the longer the injury would take to heal. Raising her brow, she couldn't quite contain the laughter that bubbles up in her throat.
Head canting to the side ever so slightly, for the moon would be clear and bright tonight and her shift was so, so very close -- Enya's nose crinkled upon the scent of magic. She's not familiar with it, not really. But she knows there's something different about her apparent 'savior' by the blood that assaults her senses. "What isn't there?" She responds softly, licking her lips as she shifts on her feet. The soil is slightly damp, and while she dislikes getting her more human self less than presentable, the feeling beneath her feet is a welcome one. Wolves were so in-tune with their surroundings, and Enya had always adored the woods. So much space... Dare she say it, but Enya loved it.
Her gaze flickers upwards, the sky growing darker and darker by the minute and unless the girl before her wishes to witness something that would make her stomach no doubt churn, Enya had best shoo her away... but how? Head still canted, she bares her teeth and allows a growl to hum deep in her throat. She doesn't care about scaring the girl, though she has no intention of doing so, but perhaps it could be called a warning. There are certainly things in these woods to be afraid of... and Enya is one of them.
Isaiah, noticing and ignoring the hostility of Enya— for he was used to it— shrugged. He pressed his lips together and narrowed his eyes at the metal death trap. “Nobody notices things they don’t want to,” Isaiah replied, “so unless you think you have a human stalker, you’d be okay.” Of course, there was the occasional curious human from time to time that bothered Isaiah. He, naturally, had no intention of letting anyone further their curiosity about him so he often disappeared into the woods for days at a time. No one seemed to notice when he did. ”No reason, though. I’m no mechanic.” Isaiah had approached Enya, for lack of a better phrase, on a whim. It wasn’t entirely unlike him, sure he wasn’t the most likely to approach anyone but occasionally he made exceptions when it came to those within the MML. Although he did not always feel he belonged within the pack, they were essentially the only people in Bindlebrim that Isaiah trusted, although trust was a bit of a strong word even for what Isaiah felt for his own pack members.
Lips thin as she glances back as Isaiah, an incredulous look in her eyes as she stands with a curve to her hip, slightly leaning against the bonnet of her car. She doesn't care for humans, of any kind really. If she were to call her attitude towards them, she'd call it indifference. A cold, calculating look would hold her gaze for hours on end if need be -- there are reasons no one misses her class at the University. Most of her students are no doubt afraid she'd kill them if they dared try... and she's not one hundred percent convinced that she wouldn't. Still, to go so far as to suggest that she would tolerate a human's attempt at stalking her is laughable, at best.
"If I had a human stalker, I wouldn't have one for long." And she leaves it at that. He can decide what she means, though she knows death would be the obvious option. Humans are, to her, nothing but toys with which to play with. Her nose crinkles once more, another glance down at her car before she scoffs. Flicking her wrist with the keys in hand, it beeps twice as it locks and she crosses her arms over her chest, turning fully to the younger wolf she's found herself accompanying.
"I'm aware." Quipping with slight amusement in her tone, her anger satiating once she's had a moment to simply breathe.
;;﹣ ᴛʀᴇᴀᴅ ʟɪɢʜᴛʟʏ ( enya/lucan )
A canine scent which reached his nostrils was not as unpleasant to his senses as the modern literature painted it to be. It was a stern odor, demanding respect by default and Lucan was keen on giving it, regardless of the age he had in his advantage. For all species capable of grasping this fact manage better in the struggle for existence than those which rely upon their own strength alone: the wolf which hunts in a pack, has a greater chance of survival than the lion, which hunts alone. He would be no careless shepherd for a hungry beast to feast itself with him, but a monstrous sight of walking man’s best friend; an equal, for both the wolf and lion craved the same thing in the end.
Rumbling vibrations which resonated throughout the wolf’s throat were of language no centuries of living could’ve taught him, yet another knowledge he would ever be envious of but could never possess and it made him only further agitated, keener of maiming. Hollow cries once again shifted to piercing shrieks whose drifting into nothingness he intended to leave up to time and reapers. Si raccoglie cio che si semina.
“Have I intruded your territory, alpha?” he questioned, completely ignorant of the gory scenery playing out in his backgrounds as he approached the wolf further on. He was a feline, quick and courageous, with no attachments whatsoever, not a single thing keeping him from adding her head to yet another of his sins. But felines were no territorial beings, they did not understand the concept nor were they fond of sinning for it, so he was to offer his most sincere apologies if that was the case.
The close did he get, the bigger did the wolf appear; not of regular, but of almost horse-big size and even more astonishing in its looks. Its stance breathed with determination, paws like steel strong poles sunken into the earth screaming of offense if the beast was to be provoked. But Lucan had no such intensions; he much more preferred admiring the gleaming amusement in creature’s alright pupils, seeking for answers behind the veil that was not for him to comprehend. She was – yes, he could tell it was a she by the way her blood smelled, oh the enticing smells of a female singing a siren’s song for him to come, conquer and devour – a first of her kind that he’d stumbled upon since joining the council but certainly not the only were- he had the pleasure of meeting. Back in Italy, his clan even broke the greatest of all stereotypes mankind has created for their interspecies relations and made friends with one of the biggest werewolf packs in the Europe.
That was until he had the wolves tear off the limbs of his own children for their misbehavior. A lone creature of the night needed not a pack, even if they were willing to have him as if he was of lunar nature as well. Wolves were too tame, domestic, and Lucan was no kindred soul.
“May I aid you in your quest, signora?”
Hesitant, though her steps may be, she manages to rise from her stance. Low to the ground, body tense with claws flexing, digging in to hardened ground -- her posture only slightly relaxes upon no declaration of attack. The flames flicker still, and the smell of burning, dead flesh makes her nose twitch. They're not usually so potent -- but tonight, the scent makes her want to gag. But the alpha stands strong, staring at the aged vampire before her with narrowed, black eyes.
Was this her territory? This was where she ran, this was where she slept, this was where she fed -- her pack would pass through these woods, the pups sometimes stopping to play in the open space before they would be forced to follow. In a way, perhaps it was her territory, claimed little over seven months ago. And yet, she stays silent. Not just because the old one can not hear her speech, but because she has no words with which to say to him.
But she answers him nonetheless, with a slight inclination of her head, silent permission for whatever deed it is he is performing -- and with that, her gaze diverts, flickering to the flames that still burn hot and high, and her eyes narrow further. It is none of her business, and whilst she is proud to say, she could hold her own in a fight, her intention is not to start one -- but she's curious. For the body burning is that of a vampire, young if the taste on her tongue is correct. The laws of those with a perchance for blood rather than meat, are somewhat of a mystery to her kind. Privy only to the need-to-know basics, and the rest is otherwise unknown -- and Enya, for a moment, wonders what this child did to deserve death... if that's what it was called.
The old one speaks again, and her attention is once again returned. She can feel her pack growing restless, waiting for her orders and she demands they keep away, a safe distance should she need them, and a safe distance should they need to run. But there are a lot of them out tonight, and she's confidant that she will see the sun come tomorrow morning -- the vampire's fate, undetermined. She shifts where she stands, the soil disturbing beneath her feet and she contemplates the turn.
To become 'human' once more, simply so as to break this communication problem that rests between the two of them but the idea of doing so makes her anxious. To turn back now could all but sign her own death certificate, should the vampire have friends lurking in the shadows as she does, closer than her pack mates are now. Contemplating his request, his question that remains unanswered, a low growl vibrates in her throat. Non-threatening, for she does wish to live -- a slight shake of her head is the only answer she gives him, for now.
'I have no quest, old one.' She continues to speak to him, despite her knowing his inability to understand. But she stares at him still, the flickering flames of fire a brighter source of light than the three-quarter-moon beginning to disappear behind black clouds.
She shouldn’t have said anything. She shouldn’t have complained about having to be around Clayton, he wasn’t even that bad. He was useless that was true, he fought like a girl scout after someone had took her last box of cookies, but he certainly had his uses. She just couldn’t name them off the top of her head.
"I think he’s going to surprise us. He may not be a fighter, but he’s… special. He always makes it through somehow. I’m sure he has skills that are useful to us, we just need to give him time.”
Why did she rush to his defense? She didn’t even particularly like him all that much; he was far too intrusive and his misery spread throughout their home like an infection. But she didn’t wish him dead, he was supposed to be family.Had Enya forgotten that? Or is being part of the MML just an exercise on who can be of the most use?
It didn’t really matter, now all she cared about was that she couldn’t take it back. She should have kept her compassion to herself, but no, little old Violet had to blabber it out. Now Enya would consider her weak. The caretaker wasn’t immune to the growls that vibrated beneath her vocal chords and through her chest. Now two thirds of her household had managed to get on Enya’s bad side; Vi made a note to look out for ways to get back into the alpha’s good graces. Before it was too late.
She needed to leave, just in case she said anything more that would further damage her relationship with the brunette. Up until now Vi had always garnered Enya’s respect, she couldn’t let something as small and meaningless as Clayton get in the way of that.
"I'll do that. Should I go now?”
Cold indifference takes a hold of her heart, twisting it until a sneer takes place upon her lips. There are few in the pack whom invite hatred in to Enya's eyes, Violet had never been one of them. She, at least, had earned her place in the pack. She, at least, was useful to them, she ensured the pack's safety and for that, Enya had given her what shred of respect and, dare she say it, pride that the alpha could offer. But this continuing defence of Clayton Doyle, whom had never earned his place nor seemed to care for the pack as a whole, was beginning to wane her patience thin.
"Special? Time? You are beginning to sound like my father." Her words fall bitterly from her mouth, and anger shines bright in her eyes for she is still furious with him for sparing the life of the wolf she was now stuck with. He was supposed to die in his entry, he was on the brink -- and her father dare save him? No. No, Clayton did not belong with them... but she would permit his presence -- for now.
"And he's not here to protect the mutt anymore... When he earns his place among us, I will call him brother. Until then, he is little more than a nuisance, and a burden." Eyes narrow as they flicker to Violet's, head canting to the side just slightly. "You're very interested in Clayton's place within the pack, Violet... Why?"
Enya pauses, her brow rising at the younger wolf's request before a smirk begins to curve her lips. "We have until dusk, a few more hours by my count -- you've somewhere else to be or am I boring you?"
;;﹣ ᴛʀᴇᴀᴅ ʟɪɢʜᴛʟʏ ( enya/lucan )
“Please stop, please. No more, no more…” a boy who couldn’t have had more than twenty shrieked under the welling heat tickling at his feet. He was chained with vervain laced tethers, to a metal pole of equally poisoned surface licking at his bare back. On each side rested two seemingly ordinary average human-sized plates with dozens of holes in them; a machine of his own making. Within the plates bubbled lava fires which would breathe at the exposed expanse of the newborn vampire’s nude body whenever Lucan would press a button on his remote.
“A cane scottato l ‘acqua fredda pure calda.” the words rolled off of his tongue fluently and disinterested in boy’s capability to comprehend them. The ancient had given him a chance to redeem himself after the mistake was made, not to mention overlooking the important fact of having the boy warned not to murder recklessly earlier on and being ignored on his advice. Punishment was a deserving one of his crime, seeing how he’d slaughtered mercilessly a child compared to even himself and had their body burned to cover up his tracks, not allowing the poor unsuspecting mother to even properly bury her child. Oh the cruelty.
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I-I tried, please..” the words got caught up in his throat, unable to offer an explanation for the fear clouded his mind but vampires weren’t to slave a fear, not the capable ones. Trying wasn’t enough; only succeeding counted. Trying had gotten them here, in the deepest pits and darkest crevices of Bindle’s forests, trying to mask the wrongs one newborn has exposed the council too. Another press of a button had the boy screaming even louder this time as the flames engulfed his pale features, each time for slightly longer than the previous time, tortuously building up for a final verdict.
Sounds of crackling fire melted with a single snap of a twig somewhere behind him, alerting him of another’s presence just as it did the burning boy, who was holding onto the hope that someone had arrived to save him. “Help me, please…” his voice was now distant, Lucan’s senses all sharp on the intruder. “Chi non si lascia consigliare, no si può aiutare” he responded calmly, suspending the fires for a second long enough to glance backwards at the moth attracted to high flames wandering through shadows and whisper out.
"Uncover yourself."
She's always running.
It's a freedom she was deprived of as a child. For years, trained and conditioned, prepared for her eventual rise as the alpha -- of course, her father had no idea just how soon that rise would come --, and Enya had only run when told. Now, she was free to do so when she wished. And she so wished it this night.
Near black hues rise as she runs, catching a glimpse of the moon no longer full, but still shining bright behind a clouded sky. Her fur's dark, pitch black save for the scar above her lip and it allows her to hide, to blend in to the woods she runs in and her pack is elsewhere, some running too, some, not. The caretakers will keep the younger ones under control, lest Enya return and they risk her wrath. And the older ones, those who can turn during the phases and retain their memory once doing so -- they'll be near. Far enough away that she won't feel a desire to kill one of them should they wander too close, but near enough should she need them or vice versa.
It's as she's running, leaping over a fallen tree and paws skidding in slightly damp soil, that she hears it. Screaming, fire, vampire -- the scents assault her and she growls on instinct, lowering her body to the ground with her fur standing on end. Enya has a paranoid persona, and whilst she's yet to fully engage herself in battle with a filthy leech, she still finds herself wary of them. But she's the alpha, and she knew they were near, and it is her duty to ensure the safety of her pack... she might also be a little curious as to just who found themselves on the bad side of a blood sucker.
For a brief moment, she considers turning back. To allow the cold night air to ghost over naked flesh but she thinks better of it. If there is to be a fight tonight, if there is to be death and destruction, she will fare better as the wolf she is than the human she pretends to be.
Creeping forward, sticking close to the trees and low to the ground, her nose crinkles and she near gags and the smells. Burning flesh, and not that of a human's, assaults her senses and it sickens her greatly. Sensitive to the scents of others, particularly those of another species, werewolves are rarely surprised by the secrets so called 'humans' attempt to hide. But the fire burns bright in her eyes, and the screams pierce the air so loudly, she almost whimpers. Not concentrating, something that seems to be normal as late ( and something she will rectify, even if she has to punish herself in doing so ), she steps forward as a body burns, and a twig snaps beneath her paw.
Growling, low and deep and straight from her throat, the alpha bares her teeth as the vampire demands her appearance. For a moment, she hesitates, for he smells different -- older. He's not like the younger of his kind, but that's all she can gather about the man ( leech ) before her. It would not bode well for her, or her pack, should she encroach upon that of an old one.
Carefully, hesitantly, Enya steps forward, out of the shadows the forest trees provided for her, with the fire still burning. Her eyes, firmly fixated upon the vampire still 'alive', her nose twitches towards the body turning to ash, and her head cocks just so. She knows when to fight, and when to flee, and she knows when she need tread lightly. This, is one of the latter.
'Having fun, vampire?' Her words sound taunting to her, curious and yet amused, hesitant -- and though she knows those of her pack whom roam the woods with her have stiffened, are listening, she also knows he can't hear her. And that brings what could be considered a smirk to her lupine lips.
Isaiah was outside walking towards one of his usual hunting spots, bow and arrows slung over his shoulder, when he happened to pass by an interesting sight. Watching the alpha of his pack attempt to figure out what was wrong with her car was not a sight Isaiah had ever really expected to see. Raising an eyebrow he stood back, watching her for a minute until she seemingly was ready to give up. Carefully stepping towards Enya, he pressed his lips together and cocked his head looking at the car. “Wouldn’t it just be easier to walk?” He asked her. Isaiah himself owned no car and used his legs to get everywhere in town. Cars were unnecessary— and the exhaust smelled terrible— in his opinion, unless you were going somewhere too far to walk to. Even then, Isaiah did not like being in cars. They made him feel claustrophobic.
Glaring at the hood of her car, her fingers flex as they curl around the edge, nails near digging in to bending metal before she slams the hood down -- and winces. That would no doubt have caused more damage than before, more money she'd have to pay to get it fixed, and she growls low and deep in her throat, frustrated. To be interrupted, at a time like this, someone clearly must have a death wish -- and yet, upon turning, she sees Isaiah, and her fury simmers... somewhat. She holds no grudge against the younger wolf, for he at least, she can tolerate. A slight crinkle of her nose, and Enya's lips purse.
"You walk from one side of town to the other in six inch heels and not make the ease with which you do so look suspicious." She's not ashamed of her ancestry, of what she is... but she's hardly about to announce to every pathetic little human to wander this town's streets that she's a killer who's choose of weapon is the animal she turns in to every month. "The speculation alone would give me a headache." And she's only partly joking, because she doubts many would pay much attention to how far she walks and what she wore whilst doing so. Rolling her eyes, she huffs irritably before glancing at her car with a predatory glint in her eye.
"Considering how certain I am as to how inept you would be at fixing this, are you just here to point out alternatives or was there a reason you felt the need to interrupt my..." (-tantrum-) "... me?"
Watching the figure emerge from the shadows, he barest of smiles plucked at his lips. The more supernatural he was exposed to, the more information he could slowly soak. “Actually, I’ve recently heard that it’s normal to talk to yourself while doing a menial task. Makes one efficient.” His voice slowly slid into an easy conversational tone—though he would always remain cautious.
”Though insanity can be found anywhere nowadays, hmm?”
The phases of the moon had always brought out a different side of her, particularly when it neared nightfall. A predatory step, a slight sway to her hips, a glint in her eye -- she'd lured many a man in to her web of deceit and lies and secrets... but there were no secrets here. She'd caught their scent throughout town, quickly realising that she and her pack were not the only distinctly non-human visitors to Bindlebrim. But she'd yet to cross paths with one -- until tonight.
Lips purse as she glances upwards, a look of deep thought shining bright in her eyes as she moves to circle the boy ( she cared little for his real age, what ever that may be ). A quirk of her shoulders, and she silently agrees with him before a smirk graces her lips, and she grins. "The sane are boring..."
Vi held back a wince at her use of them. Though she no longer considered herself human, she couldn’t forget how it felt to be one. To be hopeful, to aspire, to love. She missed that. Clearly, Enya was a woman who did not.
She left the mess begrudgingly, taking a seat opposite the powerful brunette, exposing herself to the woman’s piercing stare. She smiled but it was awkward, fake in its conception, and the small laugh that failed to mask her fear of the intimidating alpha only made her feel worse.
"No. Clayton has been spending a lot of time at home recently and as caretaker I thought it might be nice to give him some space. You know he has… trouble fitting in sometimes.”
Had she said too much? Perhaps she should have lied, not that she technically wasn’t, but said something that involved no one. Told her it was her own benefit, which would have been some version of the truth. Suddenly she wished she could take back her words. She’d have to defer the conversation somehow, bring up something more pressing.
"Is there anything you need me for tonight? I think we should have a couple of options open. I trust the pack, but I think it is best to prepare, don’t you?"
Her nerves were getting the best of her. She was stumbling on her sentences, causing them to be rushed and barely understandable. It made her look weak; Violet hated weakness. From what she could tell, so did Enya.
"I feel the upcoming full moon could be a bad one. Maybe it’s me just being overly intuitive and it will be a minor issue, but I need to be prepared. The pack needs me to be prepared.”
The smirk that had curved her lips falters slightly, jaw steeling upon the mention of the Omega she despises so -- and her eyes seem to darken. The slight crinkle of her nose matches the slight curl of her lip, white teeth flashing momentarily as she holds back a snarl, though she expects the girl before her can hear the growl that warns her deep within Enya's throat.
"Clayton --" even his name falls from her lips upon a hiss "-- has trouble fitting in because he does not belong here." Her distaste for Clayton Doyle has never been hidden, and she doesn't intend to try to hide it. "He remains because I permit it, and event that permission is beginning to wane." Her father's acceptance of Clayton had never been something she approved of, and she's well aware of other's who believe the same. Violet, however, she knows thinks differently. "We shall see how long he survives -- I doubt space will help."
She drifts off, still staring at Violet before a huff of breath flicks a strand of hair from her face, and glances away, out the window. The sky is still light, the sun burning bright and the moon will rise tonight brighter than ever. A small smile graces her lips, for full moon has always been able to draw her more human side out -- the irony is not lost on her. But she answers Violet unseeingly, still looking out the window and her voice drops in tone.
"It's best to be paranoid than dead." And it's true, though she doubts death will plague them this night. "Watch the pups -- we've not been here a full year yet, the woods are still unfamiliar to them. Take them to the waterfall -- they can frolic to their little hearts content, there." And her nose crinkles, for she remembers being young but she doesn't remember being human. She never really was, neither were her brother's. And the idea of children -- for that is what the younger wolves were to Enya Kovar -- wandering the woods alone was not an appealing thought at all. The danger to the pack, and to Enya's reign as alpha, was not worth a pup's curious wandering.
