refuse to be refused

surprisingly there aren’t many other male familiars, so whenever a new one of them appears at the coven meetings, he instantly makes it his entire business to get to know them. it was no different that day when he came across jingoo, except maybe that for some reason or the other he felt himself drawn to the younger male.

every meeting, he made sure to hang out with the younger, until it came to a point where they were well-acquainted enough to ask for the guy’s number. which, in his opinion, already happened on the second coven meeting, of course. from there on the occasional texts and furthered coven meetings kept them in touch.

at this point in time, he figures there is something between them that could be named a friendship if he was anyone other than the person he is, but has heretofore not been defined at all. still, it’s something more than he has with most people, since he will seek out jingoo occasionally to hang out together.

of course the younger is still studying, and in between that, spending time with his witch and whatever else the male’s got going on, so they don’t see each other all too often. but he enjoys the times when they do, and looks forward to them from the moment they agree on a time and place to meet.

which makes it no big surprise that he’s early for a change, headphones on and hands tucked into the pockets of his faded black jeans. his eyes are closed, face tilted upwards to the sky as he seemingly tries to take in the last of the autumn sun rays. his face is a temporary mask of serenity, until a car honks not too far away and the smooth features automatically crunch up into a frown.

the house is still the same. the house never really changes. neither does yerin, neither do the cats. he still pauses a moment in the door opening every time he comes back, though.

perhaps it’s a certain kind of deep-rooted surprise at the fact that she still opens the door for him. even after all these years, even after numerous of his disappearances that he always returns from without explanation, even after all the shitty comments he throws her way without ever once apologising, she opens the door for him and smiles at his presence.

he doesn’t know what it is about that single smile she gives him that makes him feel so warm inside, but it happens without fail. he sets one foot over the threshold, glances up at her face in an almost careless manner and jogs right on like he doesn’t give two shits whether he’s there or not. but he curls up at the fireplace every single time without fail, and he sleeps better than he has in days when he passes out not long after.

and even when he wakes, the warmth still sits in his belly like his own personal little fire, as if it’s simply being close to her that settles his very being into something akin to peace. as if he could never be whole without her.

some days he is truly convinced he couldn’t be.

he doesn’t tell her that, of course, doesn’t tell her anything in those first hours that he spends as a dog, sleeping first and then going around the house to check out what’s changed. usually it takes him a few hours before he shifts again, this time he waits all the way until dinner the next day, needing a little more time to get used to finding himself in the midst of familiarity again.

when eventually he shifts, it’s without a single word about the change in his hair, outfit and general looks, merely walking over to the dining table on two legs like he’s never been gone and nothing has changed, and pulling back a chair to sit himself down.

it’s always quiet here, with the wind brushing softly through his hair, surrounded by the green and peacefulness of nature. there is nothing chemical in the air here, nothing man-made and smelling. like a place from long forgotten memory, an echo of a time when he could still curl up underneath a tree and dream away in a part of the world free of humanity’s stain.

only he wasn’t alive in that time. he doesn’t remember a time before even the most remote parts of nature were somehow affected by smog or pollution. and yet here it is, a perfect recreation of such a place, of freedom and peaceful quiet without any rude interruptions, without anything to fear. nature in its purest form.

but of course, the only reason he has nothing to fear is because he’s at the top of the food chain in this place. there is no predator out trying to get him, he is the one deciding what to eat next. he is the one occasionally running off to go on a hunt, to chase his nose to the ends of the forest and back. only there is no end and he can go on forever. such is the luxury of this place, such is the luxury of the width of his imagination.

the thing is, he’s not always alone. sometimes there is a person there with him. there are moments when he scents her on the breeze, other times she steps walks into sight and doesn’t even try to hide her presence. very occasionally she feels like something out of place. but he doesn’t mind her. she has yet to reach out to him in anger or with the intention to destroy, and so he never tries to chase her away. the place is big enough to be shared those few times she’s around.

she is back again this time, with her silent thread and seemingly ethereal shape. he knows one can’t dream up faces one has never seen before, so he knows she’s not a figment of his imagination, but he doesn’t know where she’s from then. it doesn’t quite matter to him either, not in this place where he knows he is safe, where the rules of the world bend to his imagination.

he doesn’t do holiday celebrations.

yerin knows this. she’s seen him take off at every single one of them for the last three years, disappearing from sight until every last sign of dressed up children and cosy family outings has disappeared entirely.

he doesn’t do christmas either after all, nor does he enjoy new years - although that one is mostly due to the excessive use of fireworks. he doesn’t do easter either, though, nor birthdays, thanksgiving, whatever other shitty excuse people come up with to spend time together as a family.

he presumes there’s a pattern and that it’s visible to someone who’s known him as long as yerin has. but even she does not know the story of his parents. he knows most people assume he doesn’t have any, that they died or that they gave him up early in life. he doesn’t mind those assumptions, thinks it might even be better if those were the case rather than reality.

after all how many parents have had to deal with their biological child being convinced they were not its true parents? how many couples have had to make use of therapists before their child was ten but finding no signs of mental disease or any intense hallucinations?

no, he doesn’t like things traditionally celebrated within a family setting, nor does he like children. so it’s no surprise that he disappeared a few days beforehand and only returns several days after.

what might be cause for surprise, however, is the new look he sports upon returning. because there’s no saying where he might have gone to find himself an outfit quite like the one he’s wearing, and even less of an indication who he let anywhere near his face and hair with bleach strong enough to turn his black locks into a shade of grey near to white.

the stinging scent still lingers in his nose, but luckily it only plagues him in his human form and he is more than happy to use his four paws to jog around on, leaving everyone around him unawares of what exactly lies underneath.

coming back into the city is always a chore, even if the scents of industry and car exhaust linger in a wide circle around it. nothing truly hits him as badly as taking that first step back into the asphalt streets, feeling as if his fur and skin are instantly dirtied by the stains of civilisation.

(...) “just look at her, it’s obvious,” he continues, sighing, “she has huge feet, man. tried to stomp me to death once. then almost gave my mouth a fungal infection. you know how nasty that is? now just…” he makes a motion for this guy to keep his distance. “don’t touch me, then. stick around as much as you want, i really don’t give a shit, but you’re gonna be bored.” 

“oh you have no idea,” he responds instantly the second the guy tells him he’s going to be bored. isn’t that what he spends about half of his days doing when he has to walk around in human form, after all? there is nothing interesting about forced conversations and carefully crafted behaviour. what is there to a human life when he could just as well be out and about in the forest, following interesting trails or chasing down a few rabbits all the way to their holes?

no, boredom is not a stranger to him, nor is he particularly unaccustomed to its touches. that doesn’t mean he enjoys it even in the slightest, or that he tries to seek it out. eyes scanning the room one more time, he then looks over at the male to his side once more, a small smile appearing on his lips.

“i’m going to be bored anyway, so i’d rather do it standing next to someone goodlooking.” he keeps the eye contact lasting a moment longer, that split second too long that usually starts people wondering whether he’s just giving an actual compliment or whether he’s flirting, then folds his arms in front of his chest and shifts ever so slightly more away from the other, as if to indicate he won’t do any touching.

all the money in all the world | @13xxander

(...) but this ought to be a lesson for her, if anything, to strengthen the wardings on her personal property a bit stronger, bind them tighter to herself, discourage anyone from even so much as think of touching it. for now however, all she can do is close her eyes, let her focus shift inward, reaching deep, deep, deep down inside herself, where the darkness coils and writhes, and breathe the words “come to me,” into the empty air, initiating the spell already pre-cast on the wallet, awakening it’s sensibility and force whoever happens to have hold of it straight to her front door.

in the meantime, she decides to put on a pot of tea.

it’s not every day that he strolls around the city and finds himself something to do that doesn’t automatically induce a major headache. it’s also not every day that even the start of a minor headache doesn’t instantly make him retreat back to his usual places, to try and retain some sort of alright composure for the rest of the day. so with fortune shining on him, he slowly makes his way in between people’s legs. most of them get out of the way, considering he’s not a small dog, but it also means more of them notice him and would look for someone he’s with - and if he’s with no one, perhaps even call some authorities to catch him.

today he doesn’t quite mind the risk, because he knows he can easily slip away from those people anyway. all it takes is finding a place where they can’t see him shift, and then pretend he’s never even seen the likes of a ‘big dog wandering around on its own.’ it works every time, and he quietly enjoys the looks of confusion and intrigue that usually settle on the people’s faces. regular humans can be so easy to baffle, honestly.

his daytime stroll continues on for a while. he finds some food here and there that can be eaten without killing him, warns a few children away from petting him with some well aimed growls and even gets to take a nap for a little under an hour on a nicely sun-heated set of stones.

eventually it’s a sense of adventure that pulls him into movement again, paws taking him through the streets once more, slipping between people’s legs in the marketplace while simultaneously getting a look at the wares for sale.

and then, as if by wonder, fortune shines on him again that day, in the form of a wallet that is just lying there on the side of one of the market stalls. he glances around first to see if there’s anyone nearby who the wallet belongs to, but nobody seems to be near it, nor is anyone searching for their stuff. which means the person who accidentally left it is probably long gone and it won’t hurt for xander to go through the things contents, earn some free money and maybe later on deliver it to whoever the wallet belongs to’s doorstep.

the movement is practised, a quick reach, teeth gently digging into the fabric of his ‘prey’ and then snatching it away. nobody squeaks in surprise at his action, which means truly nobody was paying attention to the thing, and so he happily jogs off with it to find a place where he can take a look at whoever is so uninterested in their own stuff.

the thing is... people’s stuff doesn’t usually give a sudden spasm in his mouth as he’s jogging the streets with it. people’s stuff also doesn’t usually let out a threatening sort of growl. and when the wallet in his mouth ends up starting to wriggle to try and regain its way to freedom, he opens his mouth and drops it on the ground in shock. looking down at his acquired bounty, he is faced with the sight of a gremlin sort-of creature that he has never before encountered in his life, but before he can look closer to see exactly what he’s got himself involved with, the little thing scurries off.

at first alarmed, then unbelievably intrigued, it takes him only a split second to shoot off after it. people are forgotten on his wild chase as he shoots between their legs, jumps over their bags or even barely misses them as he rushes by. the little wallet-creature goes unnoticed by most, but he obviously doesn’t. it doesn’t matter, though, as his entire focus is on the chase.

he manages to snag up the little creature again a few blocks from where he’d dropped it the first time, only it never stops wriggling and trying to get away. shaking his head, he tries to subdue it a little, but every time he dares put it down, off it goes again, leaving him no time to further inspect its peculiar making and unfamiliar scent. after a while he gets tired of the chase, so he decides not to put the thing down anymore. even then, however, he keeps having to struggle to keep the thing with him and somehow, no matter how set he is on taking it with him to where he currently has his den, he keeps going in the entirely opposite direction, until eventually a wild spasm of the thing in his mouth causes him to slam into a house door, after which the peculiar little monster quite suddenly goes limp.

(...) “the women here would think it’s polite to call them by their names. unless it’s momo, then feel free to call her bigfoot,” he corrects, arms still crossed, body language still crossed off, still eager to escape. “i’m tied to alice,” he replies, hiding little of his disdain for it. there’s an unspoken unfortunately that’s supposed to follow, but he just sighs. “look, you seem like someone who’d get along with….not me. so. go. away.”

xander’s eyebrows raise slightly at the response the other guy gives him considering the witches, having no clue who exactly momo is but presuming that if he starts calling her bigfoot he will be siding with this guy somehow. which, honestly, he doesn’t quite feel like doing considering the guy’s rude behaviour. it’s very obvious that he doesn’t really give two flying fucks about xander’s existence, and he’s not entirely sure if the guy cares about anything else much.

then again, there has to be something keeping him in the coven, and it clearly isn’t his own witch because the way that name rolls off his lips is bitter and filled with his dislike of the situation.

then, however, the guy speaks the magical words that make xander instantly brighten in demeanour once more and the happiest and friendliest of smiles appears on his features at the end of jun’s sentence, eyes temporarily gliding over his companion’s expression, as if taking in every last detail of it.

“how fortunate that you inform me of that most unpleasant fact. i was unaware that you lacked the proper amount of friends,” he replies instantly, voice shifting into something jovial and cool at the same time. “but since you’ve asked so nicely, i will certainly do you the pleasure of sticking around.” he gives a small nod of his head, but does not try to touch the other again, instead just moving to stand next to jun.