home - muse a pulls muse b closer until muse b’s face rests in the crook of muse a’s neck (from Jen for Richard -- la la la enabling all the things)
Richard could admit he'd had doubts after Anita broke up with him. Doubts about himself and whether he was the monster she believed him to be, doubts about whether he was capable of fixing what Marcus and Raina had broken in their pack, doubts about whether happy endings were possible for a werewolf king or if he should give up on that idea of a white picket fence life. But time, therapy, and emotional distance were wonderful things, and Richard liked to think his doubts made him better in the end. It made him a more mindful leader, not believing he already had all the answers, and it made him work harder in his relationships. Maybe there was no white picket fence, but he could find a version of happiness that worked for him and the life he had, rather than the one he'd expected to have when he was an idealistic, twenty-year-old college kid.
Jennifer made him happy. It was new enough that he was still cautious about the happiness, that twice-shy part of him that sounded a lot like Anita's voice warning him that it could vanish at any moment, but it was established enough that he trusted them to work through their issues together instead of bailing. Jen was not Anita, and Richard wasn't the Richard who'd dated her.
His day had been pleasant. Though he loved his job, that wasn't always the case--Jr. High kids could be especially unforgiving--but today had gone well, and he was in a good mood as he stood at the stove, turning over seasoned steak strips in a skillet for taco night. Sensitive ears had picked up Jen's approach before she was even in the house, and he called out when he heard the door close even though it was obvious. "In the kitchen."
He could tell even without looking that something was off, and his expression was concerned as he turned to her, setting the spatula aside. "Hey, what's going on?" He drew her into the circle of his arms when she was close, burying his face in her hair and breathing deep. Beneath the scent of her shampoo and something that was uniquely Jen, she smelled of pack and home.
❝ i’m cute about everything. ❞ (Jen for Jason -- cause I live to enable)
"So funny, but wrong audience. Try that on your Ulfric." Jason didn't bother to suppress the urge to roll his eyes. He could be as juvenile as he wanted with his sister. It was, like, the law or something, and unlike their king (and her sweetie pie--yes, it was still weird to think about), he didn't have to think everything she did was cute.
"For real, though. Do you know why Michelle's ignoring us? Blink twice if you know something." He narrowed cornflower blue eyes at her, as though he could divine the answer through telepathy. Sadly, that was not one of the powers he'd acquired upon becoming a werewolf, but he knew Jen's face so well that it might have worked anyway. They'd grown up together, shared a pack, knew all the same people. There were times he could almost sort of read her mind.
He hadn't been worried at first when Anita's daughter stopped returning his messages. Teenagers were moody and busy, and Jason was an exceptionally annoying individual. He could have done any number of things to put her off speaking to him for a few days, or even a week. But it had gone on longer than that, and learning she'd done the same to Nathaniel had him… well, not worried. Jason would never cop to that. The fun-loving, easygoing wolf had a reputation to uphold. But he was something. If they'd unintentionally done something to hurt Michelle, he wanted to know so he could put it right. She was like family.
Edward was an observant person by nature. By profession, he was downright paranoid. He would have to be far less attentive than he was to his daughter's life not to notice the recent changes in her. He could hope she was interested in hunting for its own sake--there was a certain appeal in raising her to be like him, after all--but he didn't fool himself that it was true just because it was pleasant to think so. There were other changes as well, and he'd noted her sudden distance from the Circus and its occupants. He hadn't quite managed to narrow it down as to who she was avoiding, although several of the lycanthropes were certainly on the list, but he couldn't tell whether that was all or even whether the lycanthropy was relevant. She wasn't a bigot, and she'd never been frightened of them. She was far too much his daughter and Anita's to be either.
He couldn't help a smile at her nerve. It wasn't Ted's down home, good 'ol boy grin designed to put people at ease, but it was small and real and entirely his. "We could," he allowed, turning more fully in the chair to face her and setting the half-cleaned gun aside. "Why don't we make a deal. You can come on this mission, and we'll conveniently forget to tell your mother about it until we're home--" Anita would love that. He didn't think she would actually shoot him for it (and, truly, he would find it most entertaining if she tried) but her rage was always a spectacle to behold. "--If you tell me the real reason you don't want to spend time at the Circus lately."
❛ is that a ‘no’ in your lingo? ❜
"No is no in my lingo, princesa. We'll see means I'll talk to your mother." It wasn’t their week with Anita. Edward spent every other week at The Circus of the Damned and the rest at his ranch outside the city. Both were essentially fortresses designed for her protection, and Michelle was free to move between them as she pleased unless one of them was on a job. He’d always been a solitary creature though, and even that much togetherness could wear on him, with the exception of his daughter, who didn't register as "company" the way most other people did.
They'd never pretended she wasn't a surprise or that they ever intended to stay together for so long. He’d doubted their ability to make it work in the beginning, but he thought they'd done better than expected, all things considered. An open relationship suited both of them just fine. Edward had never particularly believed in monogamy or marriage, nor was that even an option for Anita now that she carried so many of Jean Claude's hungers, but he did love her, perhaps more than he’d ever loved anyone besides his daughter.
It wasn’t his style to sideline Michelle from a job. He'd raised her to be a warrior, though he cared very little whether she followed in his footsteps or forged her own path. He simply wanted her to be able to protect herself. In an ideal world, he and Anita would always be there to keep her safe. In a practical one, they'd both made a lot of enemies in their lines of work. He’d made sure she'd grown up knowing how to handle every weapon in the house, taking sparring lessons and survival training, and when her necromancy flared to life, he'd personally taken her to Antia's abuela for magical training.
Those cool blue eyes lifted from the gun he was meticulously cleaning to settle on her, an appraising look to them. He didn’t have to put on his Ted persona in the privacy of their home. He never had for Michelle. He didn’t have to pretend he was anything other than exactly what he was. "I think you're ready. But if your mother doesn't agree, we'll discuss other options. Either way, we'll get you into the field." He didn’t care if Anita agreed with that. If she couldn't operate in the field, then all her training was useless. She needed to be able to react to real threats and still keep her head.
Michelle had always gone happily between her parents' residences -- basically deciding upon a whim where she wanted to be that week. However, as of late, she had been spending more and more time at her father's ranch, returning to the Circus only when Edward did. At first Anita had assumed Michelle was upset with her over some slight…teenagers, after all, had a tendency to be overly dramatic. To see every 'no' as a personal slight. But now….now she wasn't so sure. It made her wonder if there was something deeper going on with the girl.
For her part, Michelle was doing everything she could to make it all seem normal. She loved her father. Worshipped him. So her choosing to spend time with him was hardly unusual. What was unusual was her actively avoiding those she had spent her whole life around. Nathaniel. Jason. As a child, they were some of her favorite people and now she wouldn't even pick up their calls.
But then, what teenager actually answered calls? Texts only, please…
Tugging at the end of her sleeves (an oversized hoodie clearly stolen from one of the people she was now ignoring), she nodded. That was another thing…her interest in 'hunting' had skyrocketed. In being in the field.
"They say its easier to apologize than ask permission. Can't we just do that? Talk to her AFTER we get back?" Cause otherwise, Michelle was going to have to return to the Circus during her father's upcoming trip and well…she was not looking forward to doing so.
