VIOLENCE! TERROR! CHAOS!

Like the wild beasts, she lives without a future. She inhabits only the present tense, a fugue of the continuous, a world of sensual immediacy as without hope as it is without despair. 36 / WEREWOLF

[lailarenaud]

kitxberker​:

She was right, if someone came to Kentucky and started speaking in Greek; hell he’d probably stare at them with the same disfavour that they offered him here speaking in English. He laughed at her correction, originally thinking it was a joke but once he figured out she was serious the features on his face turned to that of disbelief. “Alpha also sounds  a little ridiculous.” the young werewolf offered with a lopsided shrug. When he walked into the showering area, he felt a weight lift off of his shoulders as the hot water rinsed down his body. Looking down he could see the clear water turning dark and speckled with the dirt washing off his body. He grimaced. He took the liberty of scrubbing himself down, using the body wash provided and even brushing his teeth while he was in there. When he came out there was a pile of clean clothes waiting for him. “Wow thanks Laila.” he spoke to himself with a heavy but refreshed sigh. He felt new, nice and fresh, and that smell was finally gone. Pulling on the clothes he gave them a sniff, they smelled strongly of her and of another werewolf. “How do I smell now?” he grinned back at her as he finally left the showers and greeted her in the lobby, he couldn’t thank her enough. He went so many days half heartedly bathing in whatever water source he could find. It felt so good to feel normal again. “I can’t thank you enough..” 

.

“It’s all fucking nonsense,” Laila admitted, sending Kit on his way as she made her way upstairs to snag some clothing from the clean laundry pile. It was dropped off by the shower room before she moved on to the little kitchenette adjoined to the gym. There was always a pot of coffee running there, but the werewolf made a point of dumping it out to rinse it and make something fresh— a blend that would be warm and comforting. It was about then that Kit returned, hair still wet but otherwise much improved, “You smell like a person now,” she returned, pouring two mugs before holding one out to the other wolf. “Instead of like something that lives under a bridge.” Still, she knew intimately what it was like to be on the run and to have nowhere else to be; sometimes nature was the safest place for their kind, traversing on four feet instead of two, becoming an animal in order to let the human survive. “You don’t need to thank me,” Laila brushed off. Often she had not received kindness on her journey, and she would not be the one to turn someone away who needed it. “What are you doing out there anyways?”

[lailarenaud]

romxnambrose​:

Roman huffed at his lack of best friend privilege, giving Laila a sour look before he looked thoughtful once more. “So he’s a gym rat. Don’t tell me he takes those selfies and flexes for fun.” He put his chin in his hand, “And an Argos member. But no, I’m definitely not working on it myself. That’s all you.” The witch had barely gotten the nerve to say how he felt at times, there was no way he was seeking Remzi out for a friendship. And as long as he treated Laila right, Roman wouldn’t have to find the nerve. “Of course I do.” His insomnia hadn’t run rampant as of late, and he’d started putting more magic into his tea despite not wanting to, “I have a normal remedy, but because of your guy’s high temp, he might have to try something with a healing spell in it.”

.

She shook her head, snorting. “He’s not like that.” No, Remzi was the type to bear dark circles under his eyes, to sink his fists into the leather of a punching bag, over and over until those who passed by got concerned— until his knuckles split and bled crimson down the wraps on his wrist. “Come by the gym some day, I’ll introduce you.” She tapped at her chin, “Or we can hide by the treadmill and just ogle, I feel like that’s good for the soul too.” The werewolf leaned over the counter, peering at the selection of herbs and natural remedies. “Probably best to start off with something that isn’t magic, just to see what happens.” She had never had trouble sleeping in her life, despite the nightmares that plagued her at times— her demons had become something expected, they played well in her mind. “I once swapped his coffee for decaf and I thought I had basically killed him.” She grinned, recalling how Remzi had practically fallen down the stairs before she had hurried to prepare an espresso shot. “He needs to sleep more.”

[feral-ballad]

Louise Glück, From Descending Figure; “Epithalamium”

[remzikurtoglu]

( @lailarenaud​ )

[lailarenaud]

sofiamcrales​:

    “I will worry about you all I want. Your teeth can break, and you’re like my sister. I won’t see you hurt one way or another.” No, the last thing Sofia would be able to handle was for Laila or Ophelia to get hurt. But Ophelia was a fury – at the end of the day, Laila was only a werewolf. Capable, but not invulnerable. “Well, if you run into one of them not on purpose, promise me to run. This has nothing to do with pride or dignity – just promise me?”

.

“Feels kind of nice,” she noted airily, “Knowing that one of the biggest and baddest of Corinth has my back.” Laila grinned, wrinkling her nose when she looked back at Sofia. “I’ve managed to survive everything that the world has thrown at me so far,” the werewolf said, before dipping her chin in a nod. “But I promise.” Promises were made to be broken, her father had told her once, but she gave the fury’s fingers a squeeze as though it would cement her sentiment.

[lailarenaud]

remzikurtoglu​:

His gaze drops down, to where Laila’s hand trails against his chest. The green sweater is beginning to discolor, from where the bleach stains the crochet. Remzi’s brow creases softly at the sight, he hadn’t even realized when it happened, attention too wrapped up in Laila. Without a second thought, he begins to pull it off over his head, tossing it aside to the tile floor and revealing the white undershirt. “I have others,” he says easily, a slight shrug of his shoulders accompanied by the ghost of a smile against his lips. Whether it’s ruined or not matters little to him, there’s nothing material in this apartment that cannot be replaced. “Next time I’ll make sure to wear something old. Or white.” The words are meant as a joke, to add lightness to the air, but Remzi’s gaze is soft as it lingers on Laila — already making plans, promises of the future, something so simple and yet so weighted for the two of them. 

.

For werewolves, there was little shock in seeing each other in states of undress— their nature lead them to showing flashes of skin and stretches of their body; after the trauma of the shift, there was little left from anything civilized. Still, dark eyes drifted down, studying his skin under the flickering fluorescents of the washroom’s lighting. Next time. It was a promise to do these things again, to become docile under his care: fall apart here, the ghosting of his touch against her scalp had meant, I will lift you before you find unsteady ground. “Maybe we’ll do it outside,” she said, “If the weather’s nice. Haleh can join us on the balcony.” Laila’s gaze was still on his shoulders and chest, and she sought out the raised line of a mark that traversed from elbow to under the cuff of his sleeve before her finger rose to trace along it. Elif had told him that it had been her own world that had been harsh to him, and her brows drew together. The other werewolf had not told her much more than that. “What’s this from?”

[lailarenaud]

remzikurtoglu​:

Remzi takes the bottle from the counter, diligently following Laila’s instruction. There are better ways to do this, he’s sure, but that matters little right now. Instead, he focuses on her, fingers running through her hair gently as he works in the shampoo. “Any time.” His words are quiet, barely audible over the sound of the running water, and perhaps it would’ve gone unheard entirely without their superior hearing. He’s careful but thorough, until the last bit of bleach has run down the sink before reaching to turn the water off. “Here,” he reaches around to the shelf, pulling off one of the white towels that sit there before laying it over her head, making sure to keep it out of her eyes. It feels oddly intimate, in a way Remzi has never truly experienced before. Something so simple, perhaps more mundane than anything else in their lives, and yet it has a quieter meaning underneath. Something that says I’m here for you. Always. “All done?” The question comes out lightly, but he waits for more than just a surface answer.

.

She stayed still, enjoying the warmth of the water and the way that gentle hands scrubbed through with the shampoo— washing out the bleach and the smell until her hair, now flaxen, was so clean that it squeaked under his care. Dark eyes fluttered shut while he worked, wondering if this was what it was like to be taken care of; for someone to do such a small task, the tiniest deeds that otherwise would have been undesirable. Laila sat up, straightening as she pulled the towel around her hair, twisting it so as to keep it in place before she nodded, finding his gaze and his closeness unbearable. “All done,” she echoed, catching the cable of his sweater and how the bleach from her touch was already beginning to undo the pigment of it, there was the slight outline of a hand: her own. “That’ll be ruined,” Laila said mournfully, tracing the mark with her fingertips, brushing against his chest. “Sorry.”

[lailarenaud]

eliastaylcr​:

     “I don’t know.” Elias had enjoyed acting back in school, maybe even dreamt of being an actor one day before he got worse and realized it would never be a possibility for him. But he had enjoyed putting a mask on and pretending to be someone else. It was easier that way, when he could imagine being someone else. Not the boy stuck in this skin, in this life, in this brain most of all. Sometimes he wondered if that was why it felt so hard to accept anyone’s love – because he didn’t feel worthy of it. “And I’ve seen you walk against a door frame. I won’t take it back.”

.

“Throwing stones at my old age, shame on you.” Laila passed over a wry smile, looking over at Elias through her dark lashes. The Renaud legacy had only bore daughters, women carried her father’s name, but she liked to imagine a past or a history of hers where this shifter was her own blood— in her time in Corinth, nearly a year, he had become just as important as family; or in her case, more so. “Come on, let’s get something to eat. Get up, get dressed, you’ll feel better after.”

[lailarenaud]

remzikurtoglu​:

His arm snakes around her waist, pulling Laila in close even as the fumes of bleach burns sharply against his nose. It doesn’t matter, not in the face of everything else. Not when he has her. When they pull away, Remzi is reluctant to release her from his grasp, a thumb stroking softly against her jawline. A part of him waits for it to break, for this to fall apart in his hands like most things do; he doesn’t know how to hold onto good things, to keep them from slipping away. But it doesn’t come. At least, not immediately. Not like he feared. There’s no swift rejection, no retreat and denial, the assertion that he’s read things wrong between them here. And so he smiles. Laila can be a woman of few words, to get what’s on her mind out of her mouth something akin to prying teeth, but Remzi feels that’s something perhaps the two of them share in common; and what he’s got, this— this he can live with. His hand drops away as he takes a step back, only to then use the momentum to reach around behind her. “Here,” he says, hand turning against the handle on the sink, a steady stream of water splashing against the porcelain. “Let me help you.”

.

It was unintentional, the way that her hand reached up to touch at her lower lip where his had just been, to trail down to her chin where his facial hair would be unkind to her skin; before she let out a breath, catching the crooked hitch of his smile. It was a rare expression, not passed as easily as it had that day he had come home with whiskey on his breath and Laila marvelled in it: someone can be the sun, even if they allowed only a moment of radiance at a time. “Alright,” she managed, twisting so that most of her hair was in the basin, before she tapped at the purple bottle that Rafael had convinced her to buy when he had found out what it was she was washing her hair with before. “This one,” she guided, feeling the warmth of the water that splashed against her neck. Idle hands reached for his side, drawing fingers over the textured cable of his sweater. Laila considered that underneath lay skin and bones and muscle, the ribs that caged a beating heart and the scars from old wounds that mapped and ridged along his body. Her eyes closed as she thought of her own, and she murmured under her breath, giving no reason for the exhalation. “Thank you.”

[lailarenaud]

erikxmiller​:

“It is not for me to say.” Erik said simply, he wasn’t the alpha and it was his place to support the decision that Alarick had made. The wolf knew how he felt towards witches and he knew also how Alarick’s decision had rippled out and created the situation they were in now. “But,” he paused, “if it were I would say that things were tense for a long time. Katerina’s death was… She and few others were the only things still tying us together. She named him alpha knowing how he resented the Delphi, if this was anything it was her will all along.” Katerina was a schemer, afterall. He liked to think that it was possible to get to a place where both coven and pack could work together once more, but perhaps there was too much bad history now. Erik was already old and everyday he became doubtful that he would live to see the two factions working cohesively once more.  “You’ll always have roots here, and a home. With me.” The old wolf offered, “Remember that.” 

.

She grumbled, tapping the ash of her smouldering cigarette. Laila spoke her mind easily, cutting dark eyes over to Erik’s light ones. “It would be better if you were the alpha.” She cared little for the witches, but she understood the importance of alliances— of how working together would be the way of the future, not bound by duty but rather by mutual interest. It would do her better to no longer feel the need to be a blade when surrounded by those who carried the Vidalis surname. This desire for peace was something new, sparked like domesticity; she blamed the Argos and the rest of her newly forged connections in Corinth for it. “Maybe she made a mistake.” It wasn’t that she disliked Alarick, despite their arguments, she was fond of the other werewolf: it was just when it came to lead that she saw him fall short in ways that Erik would not. Laila pressed her lips together, sealing them as the corners quirked up in a smile. She had a father once, but he had never been anything like the old Norse wolf— she had loved Patrice and had been made in his image, but when it came to warmth, he fell short miles before Erik did. “Can’t make those sorts of promises you know, usually people come to regret them.”

[osetrina]

[lailarenaud]

@remzikurtoglu

[lailarenaud]

remzikurtoglu​:

Remzi’s hand falls easily with her guidance, the brush set aside in the sink as Laila twists to face him. He watches her with carefully baited breath, a part of him feeling stuck in place, waiting for something that will make or break then. Perhaps it is a form of cowardice, to wait for her thoughts before revealing his own, but whatever is to come, he does not want her to be unhappy. There’s a fear in her eyes that Remzi hasn’t seen before, something that’s about as uncertain as he feels, like neither are certain how to steer this forward. Slowly, his hand reaches up to cup Laila’s chin, tilting her gaze up until it meets his own. It’s a moment of bravery or maybe just madness, something he might pay for in a moment, but he doesn’t want to think he’s wrong in what he’s reading here. It’s far from the most romantic or even salacious environment, the smell of bleach still heavy in the air as they linger in front of the bathroom sink, but Remzi leans in to kiss her anyways, lips pressing together firm but not insistent. “It was not a mistake,” he echoes, his voice quiet in the small space between them.

.

His words were her own, but they were a comfort to hear: a life line that desperate hands were so glad to grip at— if they were both drowning, she was glad that he would not let her sink alone. The cool porcelain of the sink pressed to her spine, felt through the thin material of a shirt washed and worn to the point that it was nearly tissue thin: the shoulders were lighter with the ghosting of bleach from times before. It was distracting, like ice water to shock her awake, to sharpen her focus when his hand reached for her, forcing ink coloured eyes to find his molten ones. This moment was treading water, the lurch between swimming or sinking, and it was Remzi who leaned in: dragging them both underwater. Oxygen was an afterthought, and she leaned up on her toes, removing distance between them as she returned the kiss. Her eyes burned from the bleach, but his touch was gentle enough to draw her in cautiously. One hand brushed against the cabled knit of his sweater, tracing up his chest. It would leave marks, a trail of colour leeched away from the fabric: it would ruin it, but also be a reminder that this had happened, and she had been there. “Hang on,” she murmured as she pulled back, lips curving as she thought back to the woods. “This has to be rinsed.”

[lailarenaud]

remzikurtoglu​:

It feels like they’re teetering on an edge here, and Remzi isn’t sure what awaits on the other side. Something dangerous, maybe. Something that will only bring trouble for them down the road. But at the same time, he wonders how long ignoring it can truly work, or if it will only lead to another night like what happened between them in the forest eventually. It wasn’t a mistake. The words reverberate around in his brain, as Remzi’s hands continue to paint the bleach against her hair. Still, he won’t push her, afraid of pressing too hard and making a mess of this entirely. Whatever happens between them going forward, he decides to let Laila set the tone of it. His words are carefully measured and leveled, as he looks at Laila through the reflection of the mirror. “What do you want it to be?”

.

Laila looked up again from her hands, but this time, his own gaze was waiting for her in the mirror like a steel trap and she tucked in a breath, biting into her cheek. The action hollowed them out even more, carving her into something sharp, more blade than woman: it felt like a useless act and metaphor, he had seen her turn molten under his touch. This was an important conversation, and it felt remarkably like something that adults did— they talked things out and discussed boundaries, they ensured that they guarded what was important to them. Still, the truth was a wound that was reluctant to bleed and Laila opened the stitches with a few words of honesty. “I don’t know.” Her brows tugged in slightly. “I just—“ she reached for his hand, lowering the brush to his side before she turned, hips almost flush to his. “I don’t want you to think it was a mistake.” She nearly stumbled, replacing it with I, reflecting her fears baldly as her dark eyes found the curve of his lower lip, fixating upon it for a moment as she drew blankly at words to fill the space between them. There were several that hummed on the tip of her tongue, but none that she had the courage to utter aloud, instead she swallowed them into her belly where they would buzz like irate bees.

[lailarenaud]

rafaelyilmcz​:

     “Nothing.” Rafael sounded innocent, but the big grin on his lips was certainly giving him away. He did enjoy some perks that came with being a werewolf. Aside of the sped up healing and strength, he did like the heightened senses, especially in situations such as this one. But before he dropped the information of what had him grinning like an idiot, he made sure to bring his hands out of reach of Laila’s fork. He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the wall behind the counter, shrugging his shoulders as if he was about to start talking about the weather. “You just smell an awful lot like Remzi. Even more than you usually do.”

.

She paused, biting into her cheek as the break was comically long— dark eyes narrowed, wondering if she could assess what it was that Rafael knew just from his bright expression; but there was very little that escaped the keen senses of a werewolf. “I might have done our laundry together.” Laila wouldn’t give him anything more than that, despite the way that he smirked knowingly. Fuck his smugness, she chewed pointedly at another bite of her lunch. “We live together, I don’t know why you’re looking at me like that.”

[dichenlachmandaily]

Dichen Lachman as Frankie in Animal Kingdom 5x11 “Trust The Process”

[lailarenaud]

remzikurtoglu​:

“Okay,” he says carefully. If Remzi is disappointed, he makes sure to not show it on his face, instead focusing on the strip of hair in his hand. The smell of bleach is strong, particularly those with enhanced senses, but it makes it easier to keep his mind more detached from the conversation. “Then things don’t have to change.” Because he doesn’t want to ruin things between the two of them, doesn’t want to chase Laila away. It would be a lie to say that stronger feelings haven’t begun to root themselves inside of Remzi, but he can quite excel at ignoring such things when necessary. And in the end, he would prefer to keep things how they were between them, than to lose her entirely. “This is your home, Laila. For as long as you want it to be.” He’s said as much before, but Remzi wants her to know that nothing about that has been altered. Though he’s never had a roommate before, he’s come to grow used to her presence around the place, finds it downright comforting at times. And the idea of going back to being alone, even with the animals still around, now seems only lonely. 

.

Things don’t have to change. It was what she had thought she wanted and asked for— but his words seemed to strike a chord of disappointment in her. Laila swallowed drily, looking at the reflected versions of themselves. Remzi’s tired eyes, her own that stared back in the colour of flint. He worked carefully, in a way that she hadn’t of— using gentle hands and strokes that seemed unfamiliar for their rough nature: she was reminded of the way that his mouth and teeth had left redness on her bare skin, how he had mapped and marked the planes of her body. The thought made her tuck in a breath, sharper than a knife edge as she cut away from his gaze to look back down at her hands. His reassurances brought her back to a focus, like a needlepoint and Laila pressed her lips together, piecing together a thought that felt like a volleyed grenade into the conversation. “It wasn’t a mistake.”

[deactivated-blog]

laila renaud​:

Laila’s hands stayed wrapped around the mug and she let the warmth of it ebb into her grip. She was reminded of Patrice Renaud, how he had come as an eidolon— how he had been a horror but also a comfort, a reminder that as his daughter, despite his being a devil: she would always carry love for him. Whatever wicked heart he had, it was hereditary and hearing of the scars that Remzi bore under the skin made her feel as though her birthright was something rotten, a bruise that only knew how to hurt. “We never do, do we?” She looked up now, finding Elif’s eyes, wondering what her story was.

      Elif offered Laila a smile, but she figured she really should not dig any further, as she wasn’t ready to bear her own demons on display. She got up and put her empty mug into the kitchen, petting the dog on her way over there. “No, we never do,” she confirmed, brushing her hair back behind her ears. “I should probably get going now though, I have already taken up way too much of your time. But uh–” How did she tell Laila that she was in dire need of friends? That she’d like to meet again, without her brother? “If you ever want to… I don’t know – do something, you can ask Remzi for my number.”

[lailarenaud]

- END.

[lailarenaud]

for: @rafaelyilmcz​​

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Laila paused with her fork hovering over her plate, squinting at Rafael as his lips curved Cheshire-like. She rotated her wrist, now aiming the prongs towards one of his hands that lay palm down on the table. “Is there something wrong with the food?” The blonde shoved the gyros towards the other wolf, who continued to smirk across from her. “You know I’ll do it,” Laila warned, glancing pointedly down at the fork and his hand. “What’s so funny?”