Braylin Vincent Morrow; good ol' boy

Even if he had laughed that ridiculously sexy laugh after she’d finally stopped to take a breath. And brushed her hair out of her face. And said he appreciated her bringing the book over! AND invited her in for breakfast and tea?!

"Maybe I need to be uncontrollably awkward more often…" The girl muttered under her breath to herself as she took in the house around her. It was certainly very Braylin from what little she knew of the wolf. Rustic, warm, with just enough of a worn-down edge to look well-loved. The smell of bacon frying in the oven and the dog-whistle sound of a boiling kettle… It all mashed together into this oddly familiar feeling…

It felt like home. With that thought, a new bolt of nerves went shuddering up her spine.

"Your house is amazing, Bray. Kinda feel like I’m travelling back in time to frontier-land. If y’know, you ignore the tv and nice stove and… stuff…" She said spontaneously as if remembering she had been standing there in veritable silence for too long, turning around to look at Braylin, her hands wrapping around each other in front of her, fingers tangling together as she tried to contain the nervous excitement she felt from just being in his space. God, you’re acting like a love-sick middle-schooler, down Bessie… Ella laughed a little, her eyes flickering away from his precious damn face to the bookshelf beside her, fingers reading up to gently trace along the spines.

"Wow. I thought I might have been exaggerating in my head about how much you seemed to like books when I was telling you about my favorites, but I guess I wasn’t too far off." A teasing smile traced across her lips and sparkled in her eyes. "A sexy lumberjack who’s got a thing for Thoreau and Maya Angelou AND cooks a mean plate of bacon? Don’t mind me getting a little weak at the knees over here. Promise I’ll try not to knock everything over when I faint.”

Ella’s eyes went wide, once more realizing she’d spoken before thinking. She cursed under her breath. Great. Goddamnit. Coming on strong there no aren’t you, Satransky? Where was the smooth operator Ella when she needed her?!? 

His brows raised, however, as she started rambling, but then they lowered and he felt his face heating up. This six foot broad shouldered werewolf... was blushing. He turned his face down toward the ground and shuffled back and forth on his feet a bit; obviously unable to take compliments well. "Thank you," he mumbled under his breath before looking up again and raising a hand to comb his hair back from his face.

"And," he started softly, "If you faint, I will catch you. Whether it's over my love of books or the bacon." He placed one of his heavy hands to her shoulders and gave it a squeeze. "Ella, just... calm down," he said, having a feeling it would become his catchphrase with her, "you have nothing to worry about with me." He really didn't understand why she smelled like someone fresh out of a really nerve-wracking interview. Braylin offered her one of his small smiles before releasing her shoulder and heading towards the kitchen.

He drained the grease from the bacon into a bowl and then flipped them over in the skillet before looking back over his shoulder to her, "Can I make you something to drink?" He turned and pulled open his fridge, "I've got... orange juice.... I could make screwdrivers, probably..." He pulled his head back from the fridge to see she was still fidgeting on the couch like a ball of nerves and he nodded to himself, "Yeah, you need a drink." He didn't care that it was only like... ten in the morning.

He grabbed a glass and poured a bit of vodka into it before filling the rest up with orange juice. Braylin then crossed over to her and placed the glass in her hand and smiled down at her, "Drink, be happy." A warm chuckle reverberated in his chest as he leaned forward and pressed a quick kiss to her forehead before motioning towards the kitchen. "I have some dough made up for biscuits... I know you like to bake, would you want to cut them out and get them in the oven for me?" Maybe giving her something to focus on would help her calm down.

And she would probably get flour on herself and it would be adorable.

In all honesty, this was all pretty new to Ella.

I mean, how often did gorgeous men that looked like sexy lumberjacks and smiled like sunday school children just fall into your lap? (Ella was still thanking the gods of winter for that one, by the way.) And yeah, okay, she’d had her fair share of handsome guys coming and falling all over her, that wasn’t the issue here.

The issue was that this guy, this random dude who apparently hadn’t been in town much longer than she has been since her vacation, was sweeter than her momma’s pecan pie topped with a big ol’ dollop of whipped cream. God, and how even thinking about that precious smile of Braylin’s as she stood outside his door, hands fluttering about as they smoothed out the wrinkles in her favorite floral dress and tried to tame the flyaways that still peeked out of her golden braid…

She was nervous. Properly nervous to see him again. Ella hadn’t been nervous around a boy in YEARS. Not like this with butterflies in her stomach and excitement pounding in her veins knowing he was just on the other side of the door and y’know, maybe he wasn’t even home right now. Maybe she should just come back later when she was more prepared…

"Come on now. Pull yourself together Ella. You’re just checking on him. Just bringing over a book. It’s not that big of a deal. He’s just a guy." She muttered to herself, reaching up a hand to knock, but stalling as her thoughts trailed to: just an incredibly gorgeous gentle giant of a guy who probably would chop down a tree with his own hands then craft you a new bookshelf all while staring at you lovingly with those big brown eyes you could just drown yourself in…

Oh fuck was Ella sunk.

With a soft whine the girl resigned herself to her fate and knocked gently on the door, clutching the book of poems to her chest as she stared wide-eyed in wait for Braylin to answer. And once his large frame filled the doorway and that same damn smile crossed his lips, Ella was off like a rocket.

"Hi! It’s me. Ella. The—The girl from the whole… y’know, ice… thing. Yeah. Anyway. I’d just come to check on you again, and I brought you a book? You mentioned you liked reading a lot while you were coming back from the near-dead, so I thought maybe you’d want to borrow my copy of Richard Siken’s Crush?" Ella was silent for a beat or two as her arm still hung outstretched with the book in question held aloft—finally realizing that she was literally giving her new crush a book fucking called Crush.

"It’s a book of poems!" She said quickly, face beginning to flush a slight pink as she wonders how much more of a trainwreck this situation could turn into. "A-and I know it’s called Crush but not all of them are love poems?? Not! Not that I’m trying to give you a book of love poems, even though I guess I kind of am? Oh Jesus…" Ella sighed, putting a hand over her face, voice muffled as she continued:

He'd just stuck a pan of bacon into the oven when he heard the knock at his door. Considering he was just in jeans and a white wifebeater at the time, he reached for his trademark red plaid flannel shirt and pulled it onto his shoulders. He rolled up the sleeves as he walked toward the front door, smiling as he recognized the scent of who was on the other side.

But once the door was open, she was talking. Not that he minded. As someone who talked very little, it did good for him to have people around him that were the opposite of him. Ella wasn't opposite of him, per se. But she did talk. Especially (he'd noticed) when she was nervous. He had yet to figure out what exactly she was nervous about; he was - after all - just Braylin.

But then she stuck a book forward and a smile came to his face. He reached forward and took hold of it. He watched with an affectionate smile as she rambled on about things she needn't worry about. He was smiling brightly when she finally stopped, and a laugh sounded from the back of his throat. "Ella, calm down," he said softly, reaching out and brushing a strand of her gorgeous golden hair back from her face, "I appreciate it."

Every once in awhile, she wondered what might have been.  If she’d stayed, they’d be married.  Maybe they’d have pup or five running around, terrorizing the town and ensuring New York would never be the same again.  Gia wasn’t blind to what she owed him: together, they’d discovered exactly what it meant to be a werewolf, how to conceal it, how to use it…Everything.  And he’d been good to her, unselfishly good to her - the first person to show her some kindness without any need to do so, and one of the few people who’d never let her down.  It’d been Gia who’d done them wrong; not him.

It was easy to think of him, somehow, today.  For half a second, she’d almost thought his scent was in the breeze, but that was ridiculous.  The snow had put a damper on scents, anyway, and she was sure she was just imagining it…at least that’s what she told herself.  Everett had mentioned to her that there was a new Packmaster in town, who’d arranged a meeting, but that had been just before Gia took a weekend trip to visit Devon, and she’d only just returned late the previous night. 

When she awakened, her first thought was coffee.  She’d stayed up much too late every night with Devon and then, again, with Everett - not that she regretted either decision, but coffee remained a must.  Dragging herself into the kitchen…she came to the harrowing discovery that she was out of the substance.

As soon as she’d gotten herself dressed and together, the first thing Gia did was head into town in search of caffeine.  It was too late to go to the grocery store to make it herself: by then her need was much too urgent.  Besides, Gia would always be Gia and stepping into the heart of Oxford was a sublime opportunity.  Though she’d once come here a total stranger, Oxford was now much more her home than anywhere else had ever been and she felt relieved to walk back into town and see all the familiar faces.

Seeing her need at once, at Oxford Barr, they were blessedly quick in serving her, but that wasn’t what she would later remember about this particular venture, later.

It was him.

She could hardly believe her eyes, the first moment, and almost wondered if the glass between them had half-obscured the man’s face till, given that she’d been thinking of him, he looked to her like Braylin.  All at once, though, she knew the truth.  He looked at her like a dream and she half-wondered if she were seeing a ghost of a future she might have had.  Words clung to the back of her throat and guilt fanned her cheeks into a blush. 

It was true that, from time to time, she felt guilty for being happy.  Particularly, for being happy with someone else.  She’d run away - after he’d proposed - because she thought she couldn’t handle that responsibility, because she’d been afraid of ruining everything and hurting him…and that’s exactly what she’d done, in the process.  She wondered, knowing what she did now, if she’d stayed, could they have made it work?  Or was Everett the only one who was patient enough to make it work with a girl like her?

Gia swallowed hard, the spell broken when he said her name.  “I think I grabbed the wrong kind of drink,” she tried to joke, but then she was in her arms.  Wrapping her own around his neck, she hugged him tightly and for a moment, just a moment, buried her head in his neck as she went on her tiptoes.  When she pulled away, it wasn’t too quickly, but wasn’t too slowly either.  He’d have smelt Everett on her, she knew: she didn’t have to tell him that, but she knew she still should.  She just couldn’t figure out how.  For a moment, she looked up at him before cracking a bright smile.  She realized she was guilty in something else.  She should’ve picked up the phone, she should have reconnected, said something, anything.

"Wow, I-" Gia shook her head, swallowing hard.  The words she was searching for were all wrong.  Somehow sorry seemed more a slap in the face than saying nothing at all and she brushed her hair from her face.  “It’s been so long,” she shrugged, but she smiled.  “We have so much to catch up on!  Um, why don’t we grab a seat?  Or do you wanna take a walk?” she shrugged.  “It’s,” her smile was warm.  “It’s honestly so great to see you.  What, um, what brings you to Oxford, of all places?”

"Yeah," he nodded, "Let's sit." He didn't trust himself to walk. He needed to sit, because he felt like his head was swimming and the last thing they needed was his six foot frame hitting the ground. He motioned back inside, and once she'd stepped in, he followed behind her. The door closed out the cold wind that was brushing over the snow, and he raised a hand to his hair and shook out the snow flakes that had settled there before reaching out to pull out a chair for her. Braylin may have looked imposing, and been a werewolf, and a packmaster... But he was a softie on the inside.

He took a seat across from her and simply gazed at her for a long time. Braylin had always been a man of few words; but then... what exactly did one say to a woman who'd run away after you'd proposed to them? He couldn't quite figure it out. He supposed it was this sentiment that meant the most, "I'm glad you're okay." He paused for a moment, looking down. "When I never heard anything... I worried..." he said softly, trying not to think about how desperately he'd searched for her. Especially now that he knew she'd come here and found... happiness. 

Mumford & Sons - Thumper

Braylin Morrow || 30 years old || Werewolf || FC: Michiel Huisman

Traits

(+) Affectionate, Compassionate, Selfless (-) Obsessive, Self-Critical, Silly

Personality

Braylin is and always has been the perfect example of what a Packmaster is supposed to be. Braylin is a man who has always been kind and caring; but on the flip side of the coin: he’s always been able to be decisive. From the time he was able to talk and even form decisions, he’s always been looking for the welfare of those around him, and for what choice is going to benefit the most people. He’s always looking for a better way to protect and serve those who depend on him. People around his home town joke that he’d be the perfect President.

Braylin knows that deep down inside his protective nature sprouts from his obsessive nature. Despite his best efforts to the contrary, Braylin has always been a one-focus, obsessive man. When he sets his sights on something, he won’t stop until he has it. Some - like employers - would say that this is a good thing. And at work, it is. He is a driven laborer, and is frequently named Lumberjack of the Month. However, in his personal life, it means he’s been hung up on his first love for his entire life. Meaning that, even through the many relationships he’s tried to have, that he has always - for one reason or another - failed to make them last.

Biography

Born to a werewolf father and human mother, it was expected that Braylin would have a relatively easy life. Or so his father believed. He’d never told his wife about what he was, and never planned to tell her. This plan ended up being the worst thing that could have happened, however, when he was killed before Braylin had even turned one year old. Now grieving and raising a ticking fur bomb, Braylin’s mother did the best she could. And for the most part, Braylin was a good kid. A little lost without the guidance of his father and no other male figure to guide him, but well behaved and extremely respectful.

He even got through high school and his puberty without having to deal with his furry problem. He knew from a young age that something was different about himself. It wasn’t until he was nineteen that the first full moon of his life came. Or, the first full moon that would shift him. Unsure of what was happening to him, Braylin spent the first six months roaming the forests on full moons confused and afraid. He searched the woods for some sign that there was someone else around like him; someone - anyone - who could explain to him what was going on.

But a year passed and he found nothing. After turning twenty, he had all but given up on finding another werewolf. But then, fate sent Gia Desstrin across his path. She was but fifteen at her first shift; and though he didn’t have much experience to guide her with, he did his best. They became fast friends after their first meeting in the woods. They discovered - together - that they could shift willingly, and figured out how to enjoy what they were. And despite their age difference - and how young she was - the close bond and the lack of clothing when shifting back brought them together in a more intimate way. If they thought they were inseparable as friends; it was ten times as so when their relationship began.

Braylin fell hard and fast for the precocious brunette. He adored her. And once she’d turned eighteen, he knew it was time. With little plan for it - none, actually - he asked her to be his wife. This would turn out to be his biggest regret, for it backfired, sending Gia running from him. By the time he’d realized she’d run, her trail was cold. Even his wolf nose couldn’t track her, but that had never been his strong suit to begin with. He went on for two years looking for some trace of her; trying to reach her on her phone or figure out where she had gone. But then he realized; he had to let her go. 

It wasn’t too long after this that he realized that he’d amassed a pack. A full, proper pack. And having been the one to bring them all together - and having all the proper traits for the title - his pack selected him as Packmaster, and Braylin dedicated his life to this new title. And he excelled at it. His pack never had a single problem until one full moon a wolf in his pack showed up high on V. This having been before the outing of vampires, it was a little known problem. Braylin was unsure of how to handle it; that is, until this wolf attacked a human being, nearly clawing out a woman’s throat. This woman was Sonia LaCroix, a college student who had been getting a little too close to the secret of werewolves. Braylin saw the young girl struggling to breath and to stay alive, and in a split second, he had jumped on and killed the pack member who’d attacked her just before he ran into a group of humans outside the woods.

Knowing he couldn’t leave the girl to die, he retrieved a tarp from a nearby cabin. Even though he was stuck in his wolf form due to the full moon, Braylin found a way to wrap her wounds as tightly as he could, and then rolled her onto the tarp, where he then dragged her five miles to the hospital. Bewildered ER nurses screamed at the sight of a blood covered wolf dragging a nearly dead woman to their door; but before anyone could get security or contact the police, he was gone. He only returned on the day that he’d heard that the girl would be discharged, and that was when he finally met Sonia. And he knew from that point on, that he would always have a soft spot for her.

He returned to his hometown, his pack, and his job as a lumberjack. He lived happily this way; making friends with anyone who passed through (included one blonde bad ass named Andi), and taking care of his pack. He figured he would never have to leave his town again. That is, until he heard of a small southern town where whispers of a species war had sparked a flame up the coast. He watched with dismay as other packmasters vowed to stay out of the trouble of other packs. He made the opposite vow; and taking two of his most trusted wolves, he made his way to the city of Oxford to declare his help for the pack there - completely unaware of who he would find there. His first and only love; Gia Desstrin.