Beast & the Harlot - Mature [Eli]

[Wyvern]

She was an idiot.

Any rational creature, no matter what the species, knew to rely on their base instincts. Instinct alone would keep you alive, no matter what the situation, so long as you played your cards right. And at that moment, Morrigan’s instincts were screaming at her to turn her ass around and get back to the cave where she’d left her cub—no, he was a man now, or so he kept insisting—waiting for her. Her precious baby was alone in this god forsaken world, and what was she doing? Moving in on the clan’s main settlement, that’s what. Fucking moron.

”Get your shit together, ya slut.” she growled under her breath, multicolored eyes flashing with barely suppressed anxiety as she neared the outskirts of the Fringe’s heart and soul. She dared not go any further; she might’ve been cocky, but she wasn’t stupid. She was a member of the clan, true, but a rogue and nothing more. She wouldn’t exactly be welcomed with open arms after spending so many years ignoring their existence, especially if they had younglings present. Best behave, children, or the rogues will eat you up.

She stopped beside a particularly gnarly tree that looked like it had been struck by lightning at some point in its life by the way it suddenly branched off in to opposite directions midway. A misfit creation to match a misfit creature. Her location was far enough from the camp to keep hackles from rising, but close enough for the wind, that was blowing downwind from her, to carry her scent to every nose, young and old. It also gave her a clear enough view of the tree line to see anyone coming. All around, it gave her an advantage, and that’s all she cared about.

Now, to get down to business.

Her damn brat had brought up the idea of approaching the clan over a week ago. Naturally, she’d called him a little shit and brushed his suggestion off after a fit of laughter. She’d assumed he was just going through another one of his phases, that’d he quickly outgrow it or realize just how stupid he’d been and never bring it up again. She’d been dead wrong. For nearly seven days he’d pestered, nagged, and damn right stripped her down to her last nerve with his ludacris proposition. The shifter had tried to be firm in her stance of ‘fuck no’, but the dumbass had always known how to get under her skin. After the seventh day she’d caved, but not without throwing a vicious rant on how she wanted to ‘return him where she’d got him’ in his face. Had it been mature of her to do? No. Had it made her feel better? Fuck yes, it had.

Stupid little shit.

After giving in, he’d flooded her with his reasonings and theories. As if he’d actually put months’ worth of thought into it, hah! Blasphemy. But even she had to admit his initial point was a noteworthy one, no matter how much it ticked her off; rogues were becoming a dying and desperate breed. Not long ago, simply living in the Fringe lands guaranteed not only safety but the liberty to live the life you wanted, so long as it didn’t conflict with the lifestyle and inhabitants of the majority. But as of late, the damn dogs and blood suckers were becoming bolder. It was becoming all too common to spot one or two of them sniffing around the borders on a daily basis, and when they smelled you, well, you were left with two options; fight or flight. A patrol from the clan would give any intruders pause, but a rogue was fair game. Easy pickings. A nice way to vent some pent up frustration due to good ol’ racism.

She’d already been caught on several occasions.

The last time she’d come home—if a cave could even be called that—with broken ribs, a few good cuts, and a dislocated arm. To say Samael had been miffed would be in understatement. Her son had been downright furious not to mention terrified. The stench of his fear upon seeing her had been suffocating, reminding her of the days when he’d been nothing but a snot nosed brat worrying for his mother while she left to hunt or chase off unwanted company. In a way, it had been nostalgic. She had a feeling it was at that point her Sammy-boy killed off his love for solitary life and began pining for safety in numbers. She’d never doubt that if he were on his own, without her, he’d be fine continuing on as he was. But the stupid boy cared too much for family, and was simply looking out for his own.

The idiot took after his mother. Great.

So there she was, leaning against the deformed tree, arms crossed, waiting ever so fucking patiently for someone, anyone, to give her the time of day. Hopefully no one too annoying. Killing one of her own wouldn’t exactly do wonders for her first impression on the clan.

Words; 851
Tagged; Eli Holmes
Notes; Hey there hot stuff
Outfit; Here
Song lyrics; Blessed with a curse - Bring me the Horizon
Credit; Ange@Caution 2.0

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[Pez]

How had her son become such a fucking cunt? She had raised him better than that. Hadn't she? She knows she hadn't raised him to be such a little prick to everyone he meets. Or to be so cocky; but then again he was the son of the goddamn Fringe leader for fucks sake. So maybe he had a reason to be be cocky. But her son or not that didn't give him the right to think he could just run off and do whatever the fuck he pleased. Maybe he was reaching that age where there needed to be two parents to control and discipline a child; not that her boy was a child. No he was a grown man, as he would constantly whine and complain to her. It wasn't like she could really help it that ever since Lucius had that nasty run in with the fucking Werewolf Alpha that had almost killed him she had become a tad bit more protective over her only son. It would help her nerves out if he would calm his ass down and actually fucking listen to her for once!

A snort left her at that last thought. The few times she ever got that boy to listen was when she smacked him upside the head and demanded he do it. Almost as if on cue a string of Russian curses sounded from the far side of camp. Something about "stupid fucking bitches" or something along those lines. Rolling her eyes she flicked the burning roll of tobacco leaves she had been smoking on to the ground before yelling out "?? ??, ?? ?? ?? ?! ? ? ? ?? !" After her screaming outburst is seemed as if the entire camp had fallen into a deathly silence. She wasn't known to having a bad temper for nothing. More than once a few of the members had made jokes that she suffered from Bi-Polar disorder; a few broken fingers later no one making jokes.

She was the goddamn leader of the Fringe! If everyone thought they could get away with making jokes at her expense she'd start breaking more than a few fingers. She didn't want to harm her members, but she wasn't above throwing them to the vamps or wolves if they got on her bad side. Then again, maybe making an example out of someone would set the rest in line. That would be something to think about later.

Pausing in her walk around camp the werecat caught a scent. It was both parts new and familiar; from the Fringe, but no member she had ever met. Turning towards the scent Eli could feel her heart stop beating in her chest. There leaning against one of the far trees was one of the most beautiful beings she had ever seen in her 92 years. " ?? ?..." came the murmured words as pale grey eyes took in the strange woman. In her experience in the Fringe a woman as beautiful as this one they were likely a Succubus. There were other possibilities yes, but the thing that needed to be felt with was why was she here?

Shifting to a semi-relaxed stance Pez rested one of her hands in her swords handle, while the other went to prop against her hip. She could more than handle herself in battle, but it was always nice to know she had someone watching her back; just in case. Not that the other woman looked as if she was gearing for a fight. Then again Eli was known within the tribe as someone who could take down an adult Werewolf. Butting down on her bottom lip she called out, "You there! What is your business near this camp?" If this stranger did not know already, Eli wasn't not going to let loose the information that she was the tribe leader.

---

You had best watch your fucking language! Or I'll come over there and sew your goddamn mouth shut!

Well fuck me...

"your character talking"
your character is thinking
"another character is talking"

words; 632
tag, you're it; Morrigan
notes; Who be this sexy lady outside my house?
outfit; RIGHT HERE! AND HERE!
credits; caitlyn of caution 2.0 made this template. do not remove the credit, or she'll throw you to her piranhas. lyrics are from monster by paramore.

[Wyvern]

The sounds of the camp were foreign to her; it had only ever been herself and her father while growing up, and now her son had taken her sire’s place. Two people didn’t make nearly as much noise as the Fringe community did going about their daily routines. The crackle of fires mingled with a constant hum of conversations, the occasional yell or animal noise added in here and there. Somewhere in the distance she could hear the clank of metal on metal— a spar, perhaps? And don’t even get her started on the children. She’d thought Samael had been bad enough growing up; comparing him to the sound of countless offspring screaming, giggling, and clamoring to be heard above the barrage of sounds was like comparing a kitten to a lion. Never had she been so grateful to be a single mother. No promise of further brats. Though Samael hadn’t exactly been conceived with her consent.

She shuddered.

A voice sharp as lightning cut through the air, bringing the chaotic symphony to an abrupt end. Whoever had yelled had done so in a language she didn’t understand, but the tone alone let her know that nothing friendly had been said. The silence held for a moment or two more before slowly fading away, as if hesitant of its departure. Morrigan couldn’t help but smirk. Whoever had gotten the entire clan to shut the hell up was someone she could learn to like.

All too soon, something approaching caught her attention. Or, more specifically, someone. She was a fine specimen, standing a good six inches taller than Morrigan, at the least. She was all ivory skin and lithe muscle, practically oozing power. She wasn’t a diamond amongst petty jewels, but there was something about the confidence in her stance and the way her pale eyes flashed like a blade under the sun that prevented her from looking away. She wasn’t ashamed to admit to a bit of a fire burning in her lower belly, nor would she deny the playful grin that played across her pretty face that signaled her having found a new toy to play with.

Oh, this one would be fun. She could just tell.

"You there! What is your business near this camp?"

The edge that her voice held only increased her sudden desire to play a few rounds of cat and mouse. One would toy with the other, followed by a chase, if she was lucky, and, well, anything could happen from that point on. Delightful. Just as she was about to open her mouth and throw out a flirtatious remark or two, the obnoxious voice of her little shit of a son rang in the back of her mind. Dammit, she had an objective to reach. The games would have to wait for later.

”Depends on who’s asking, sweety.” she purred, unable to resist testing the waters at least a little. She’d still do what she’d gone there to do, but who was she to deny herself a bit of fun during the process? She wasn’t a saint, after all. Hazel eyes lingered on the woman’s hands, one placed on her hilt as a silent warning, and the other giving voice to her inner attitude from its place upon her hip. Two and two finally came together, and a wolfish grin spread across her face. She’d thought she’d heard a bit more of that strange language upon spotting the female, had she been the one to yell earlier? Well fuck, this would be more fun than she’d originally thought.

”Quite a set of lungs you’ve got on ya, darlin’. A gal like me can appreciate that sort of power. I’ve been told I can be quite the screamer myself… but that’s a story for another time.” So she was flirting. Sue her. Who was she to pass up a perfectly attractive bitch with power and an attitude to rival her own offered up on a silver platter? In a way she felt like they were kindred spirits. Both too damn awesome for this world, yet forced to grace it with their presence anyway. Now, if she was as violent as she was intimidating, well… match made in fucking heaven.

Words; 705
Tagged; Eli Holmes
Notes; How about we divide dem legs and multiply?
Outfit; Here
Song lyrics; Blessed with a curse - Bring me the Horizon
Credit; Ange@Caution 2.0

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[Pez]

”Depends on who’s asking, sweety.”

Sweety? Eli was finding it rather hard not to roll her eyes at the term of endearment. No one had ever in life called her sweety, even her old sperm donor hadn't called her sweety. Then again, there hadn't been much talking between them to begin with. Didn't really have to talk much when your head's high on heat induced hormones, and you're in on the receiving end of a horny male going to town on you. That reminded her; a certain someones heat week was about four months away. She'd have to find somewhere to lock Lucius up. The church maybe? She'd have to talk to Eros about it. No wait, there she was going again letting her mind wander. She really needed to try and keep that from happening. "That wasn't the answer I was looking for sweety." Eli all but hissed the last word out. Not being one for such words it felt weird, foreign as it rolled off the tip of her tongue.

”Quite a set of lungs you’ve got on ya, darlin’. A gal like me can appreciate that sort of power. I’ve been told I can be quite the screamer myself… but that’s a story for another time.”

A raised eyebrow was the only reaction the werecat would supply to that direct form of flirting. She may not be one to flirt, or be on the receiving end of much, there wasn't a way she could mistake those last words directed at her as anything less than that. But the other female wanted to play that game huh? Sure, why not. She had the time. "If you're offering for a later time I might just have to take you up on it. I'd like to take my time and see just how loud you could scream." The only type of flirting Pez knew was to just be blunt in what she wanted. It's how she had taken up leadership over The Fringe, it's now she still had the role now.

But she wasn't standing here to flirt with someone; no matter how fun it could be in the long term. She needed to find out who this other woman was, and why she was here. "Now I'll ask again. What are you doing here? I might be able to help you with something... Or I can just take you back to mine and we can have a little fun." Just cause she was the leader didn't mean that was going to stop her from having some fun of her own. Tilting her head slightly to the side she waited with a small smirk pulling at her face.

"your character talking"
your character is thinking
"another character is talking"

words; 45
tag, you're it; Morrigan
notes; Wanna knock boots?
outfit; RIGHT HERE! AND HERE!
credits; caitlyn of caution 2.0 made this template. do not remove the credit, or she'll throw you to her piranhas. lyrics are from monster by paramore.