w/ @chvmpiionsx
there wasn't much that gabe could possibly be, in that world, but the embodiment of lashing anger. by now, he was a weapon; groomed for the fight, trained to never exhaust and never shy away from violence, there was very little of just the man left in him. rage and chaos flew inside of him with such ease that they were mixed into his blood, making it thick. his resilience and stubbornness are the reasons he never backs down, and they have surely helped him settle into his new nature after david turned him. transitioning through lycanthropy was often a dangerous process; not everyone survived it. but he did, and not only that, despite his erratic nature, gabe managed his wolf and the thirst from the very beginning with unsuspected grace. used to containing and regulating himself ever since way too young to even understand it, being a werewolf felt like a walk in the park, like something he was always destined to become. the moon sang to him instead of ripping his humanity apart.
that same stubbornness was what drove him, now, to follow the scent that had been riddling him to the verge of obsession. he crossed it earlier in the day, and despite brushing it off like something curious but unimportant, it still curled around him like a velvet ribbon, tugging at him, pulling on his ribcage and nibbling at his sanity. no matter the focus he tried to put on his business and on the match he was supposed to have, the ghostly trace of a person he couldn't pinpoint cursed his lungs, flowing in his veins, all corrupting.
it was the soft scent of a woman; that was undeniable. and she smelled soft and warm, inviting. perfect. it went beyond what he knew; it was instinctive. he did not need to know her; he did not need to see her to understand that this was the call of an undeniable need, equal to quenching thirst or starving from hunger. it was like suddenly, with one sniff, he realised something had been missing all along inside and all around him. it made sense and was impossible to understand all at the same time.
perhaps, he thought, it was only a matter of rubbing it off. maybe all he needed was to scratch the itch, and then he could be free from that magnetism pulling at him.
and despite him thinking nothing of it, he still knew exactly where she was standing, even when he didn't have a visual in the room where she was. he felt her presence on his skin. he knew what she wore. he knew her mood. he knew who she talked to or was in the vicinity of. her heartbeat a paced rhythm in his ear, resonating in his chest. it sure was nothing. just need to rub it off.
he entered the room without knocking, uncaring if she could have been with someone or busy with something. it did not matter. not to him. and soon, not to her either. when his icy blue eyes landed on her, a figure took the place of the ghost tormenting him, pushing its way into his mind. gabe's throat sealed. willow bloody nightingale. with her blinding smile and soft curves for days, making his hands tremble even without being hooked on her delicious perfume. stubborn even in his decision that crossing her wasn't groundbreaking. that his life wasn't about to change. that his wolf wasn't running laps in his large chest, clawing at his insides to get to her.
despite his best intentions, his gaze was unfortunately glaring, and he looked as serious and pissed off as usual. he looked like he was looking for a fight. "ye feel that, don't you, love?" he didn't even introduce himself, and he did not wait for her to invite him in to move closer, slow and controlled, trying his best not to scare her. for once, that wasn't what he wanted. "did you feel strange today? like pulled? itchy skin? like hunger that you couldn't fill, uhm? did you feel me coming?"