Elora Luna Louve

elora-opulence​:

“A beer… I can do that. We’ve got… you’re normally a pale ale girl aren’t you? You’ll like this, it’s new on the tap,” Elora hummed, reaching for a pint glass and tilting it against the spout of the beer tap, watching as the amber liquid filled the vessel. There was a moment of slightly awkward silence as she did this, setting the glass down carefully in front of the siren with another small smile. “Let me know what you think,” she offered, picking up a nearby tea-towel and slinging it over her shoulder as she leant forward onto the work surface in front of her.

”It’s not so much…. having things in common.” Actually, if you looked at Cass and Isabelle closely, he was sure that most people would come to the same conclusion. That they were opposites, complete and total opposites. Her straight blonde hair counteracting messy dark curls. Her upbringing standing in stark contrast to his own. When she rode in his car she complained about his choice of playlist until he caved and let her put Taylor Swift on, and when they got ready for dates Isabelle took three times as long as Cass and then looked in despair at his outfit and requested he change. Even their careers took them on different trajectories, Isabelle graduating with a flawless high school record and going on to college, Cass failing to graduate at all and spending more time joyriding stolen cars than thinking of his future. Izzy sat and waited to be fought over and Cass always, always did the wooing and the pursuing.

Cass seemed to go quiet as he considered her question. It was a simple enough one, one that Elora felt he should be able to answer with ease. What was the point of a relationship if you had nothing in common with the person you were with? Elora and Fionn were almost too far gone in the other direction, so similar in so many ways that they were sometimes indistinguishable from one another. They both dressed a little androgynously, both sported a messy head of curls and chewed up nails. They liked to smoke weed, watch cartoons, nerd out about rocks and birds and nature. Fionn was the person she felt safest with, because she could be entirely herself around him. He seemed to love her even more when she let herself go, when she allowed herself to be weird, silly, childish even. And she loved it. Loved him.

The worst question to ever be asked because the possibilities were literally limitless and more often than not people tended to steer toward their own preferences so their recommending something without knowing a few things about the person first would result in a poor recommendation. Oreo was unphased though and went through the motions of proper customer service, smiling brightly all throughout as they replied, their Australian accent drawled through elongated vowels, "Awh, well, we've got a few limited items roight now. One's a cookie latte," with their accent, the end of their sentence lilted upwards sounding like a question, "then if you're not much a fan of coffee we have an iced peach tea and a sweet potato latte that we can add a shot of espresso or not."

“A sweet potato latte…? How do you get the sweet potato into the latte?” Elora giggled softly, brow furrowed slightly as she looked back at the server. Something about them seemed familiar - perhaps it was the Australian accent? She had only ever met a couple of Australians in her time, and the last time had been when she’d been in California. Or was it New York? The time between leaving France and settling in Greywood was all a little bit hazy at this point, something Elora wasn’t particularly proud to admit. “A cookie latte sounds good. Can you make it iced?”

"I'm not lying," he said forcefully, and put the bowl down on the table as gently as he could, although he conceded control over the spoon and subsequently the pasta to Elora and reluctantly shuffled to the table, trying to avoid any remaining shards of bowl and opening the fridge on his way to retrieve a can of Red Stripe and opening it to drain half the contents before Elora had even finished filling a bowl with pasta, sitting at the tiny table and shrugging.

“Alright, alright, so you’re not lying,” she sighed a little defeatedly, busying herself with filling the two bowls he’d collected from his cupboard. It was hard with Cass - you pushed even the slightest bit too firmly and he closed up like a scared hedgehog. That really was the best way to describe him - to most he seemed prickly, eager to be left alone. But Elora knew he had a soft underbelly so to speak, one he only showed to those he deemed trustworthy. There seemed to be no rhyme or reason to his selection process, but somehow Elora had fit the bill.

Location: Pouty Bat Face Café With: OPEN [0/5]

Elora was a creature of habit for the most part and tended to go to the same cafe, the same bookstore, the same bar (The Den of course) - her course didn’t tend to vary much day to day, but she felt like something different and Fionn had mentioned walking past a cute, bat-themed cafe, or perhaps it just had bat in the name… either way, he’d seemed excited by it and so she’d decided to pick up a coffee for each of them on her way over to his.

Ah, oh no, she was crying. Jeremy hadn’t anticipated this sort of response. Car troubles were certainly stressful and he could understand entirely when certain situations became overwhelming to the point of crying or wanting to cry so he didn’t mind it so much that her emotions now took over. He just didn’t know how to deal with it and for a few moments sort of just stood there not looking at her wondering if this was the sort of thing he should do or say something for or if he should just sort of politely try to ignore her and let her have a not so private moment to cry.

She wasn’t sure how she expected Jeremy to react - this was awkward and embarrassing but she simply couldn’t stop the tears from flowing - and then his hand found her hair, patting it clumsily, affectionately even. Elora turned to him, looking up at her sweet, gentle friend with a stricken expression, the tears continuing to roll down her cheeks as he drew her close to him. Her arms slid around his waist loosely as her chin rested in his shoulder, eyes squeezing shut as she allowed herself to cry.

She wasn’t sure how she expected Jeremy to react - this was awkward and embarrassing but she simply couldn’t stop the tears from flowing - and then his hand found her hair, patting it clumsily, affectionately even. Elora turned to him, looking up at her sweet, gentle friend with a stricken expression, the tears continuing to roll down her cheeks as he drew her close to him. Her arms slid around his waist loosely as her chin rested in his shoulder, eyes squeezing shut as she allowed herself to cry.

he didn't know what to do - it was that simple. he didn't know what to do, how to process and work through this - jean-claude thought of the countless auctions chasing artefacts that had been his and duncan's. j.c thought about all those letters he kept bound together, crumbling parchment that spoke of their shared love for the other. how keeping all of those memories had reminded him that it happened, that he had been loved and still might be but -

Elora’s mind was still racing, trying and failing to process the news that Jean-Claude’s sire had returned. It felt like too much for her to handle - how was she supposed to be there for him when she couldn’t even comprehend what she had told him? The memories, the countless times she had touched him only to see him buried alive, waiting, slowly slowly turning to stoned, abandoned by the man  he had trusted the most, the man who had first taken his heart only to stamp on it more violently than felt possible.

Without Fionn even registering it happening, his hands had begun to fidget together, slim fingers intertwining with each other and twisting, turning, his nails sometimes digging into his own palms and leaving little crescent moon marks in his pale skin. It wasn't something he was aware that he did, when he became stressed, nor within his control - sometimes when he was younger he'd felt his parents or his sister push a Rubik's cube or a book into his hands to force him to stop, usually some comment regarding him being embarrassment. Nowadays it was normal for Elora to stop him, put her hands in his. But he never realised he was doing it, and so he continued without her stopping.

He agreed with her, made a soft little promise that he wouldn’t worry her again and yet- she could tell by the look on his face that he hadn’t fully registered what it was that was so inappropriate about what he had done. Elora loved her work - sure she didn’t make much, and sure she was just in hospitality, but her job at The Den meant so much more to her than just a steady pay check. She worked for her pack leader for a start, and Ryden was not someone she ever wanted to let down. Not again anyway. What’s more, The Den was a place where she felt welcomed, where she belonged. It was a place where wolves could meet in safety, could be free and comfortable around each other. Take communion together so to speak. And in that way, Elora considered her work almost sacred.

“Yeah,” he agreed. Not that the apartment was particularly comfortable, he couldn’t fool himself on that, but he’d just found himself constantly with better priorities than furnishing it. He was preoccupying himself with serving up the pasta when she spoke again, pulling two bowls from his cupboard and putting one down on the counter, when Elora spoke her name and Cass was completely unable to hide his shock, the bowl in his hand dropping suddenly to the tiled floor, smashing into smithereens and each fragment sliding across the floor.

Sure Elora knew that Isabelle had messed Cass up in ways he would never dare to admit to her, but even she was surprised at the reaction just the mention of her name had elicited from the fellow wolf, the sound of the bowl smashing causing her to jump slightly, eyes widening as she surveyed the mess. Thankfully she still had her shoes on and so the risk of bowl ending up in foot was minimal, but she kept her distance regardless, noting how shaky Cass seemed, his hands almost trembling as he retrieved a fresh bowl.

Jeremy felt badly for Elora, car troubles weren’t fun to deal with especially not when considering the cost, which unfortunately in her case would be quite extensive. He couldn’t keep it off his features, the look of one who had bad news he was about to share but didn’t want to. His lips pursed to the side in the way they usually did when he wasn’t sure what to say or when he was considering his words, which was often, lips rubbing together before he parted them to speak, “M-m-might c-c-c-ost two g-g-gra-and…” at the very least and that was with a discount, because while they were more than willing to help their fellow pack members when it came to costs they couldn’t always work miracles. She might be better off buying a new car for that money instead of fixing up the older junker which might have another failure in a few months time.

Elora took a couple more steps towards the older wolf and he seemed to gear up to speak, her eyes scanning his face for the tell-tale signs that he was thinking of what to say, how to get his point across in as few words as possible. When he finally did speak her eyes widened heart dropping to the pit of her stomach as she pulled a hand absent-mindedly through her hair. Two grand? She had nothing of the sort - she had begun to slowly safe a little of her pay-check each month, but the sum total didn't amount to much more than $900. It was more money than she'd ever had in her adult life, her old drug habits making it impossible for her to save, but it wasn't even half of what she would need to fix her car.

“I’m hurrying, I’m hurrying,” it felt like it took an age for his keys to reach his hand from his pocket and then a century longer for them to even reach the door, turning at the speed of a snail before he eventually got the door open and pulled her in, shutting the door behind them as he pulled her close once again, his lips finding hers with ease and his tongue running over her lower lip with a sense of desperation matching her tone when she had asked him to find his keys quicker. It was such a different dynamic to how they had ever been before, so much more intense, deeper. Part of Fionn worried - would he say the right things, do the right things, would she be disappointed in him? But it was Elora, the person he was most comfortable with in the world. There was nobody he’d be happier with, he knew that.

Finally inside the flat, Fionn began to pull her towards his bedroom, the pair of them stumbling slightly, giggling against eachother's lips as they pressed needy kisses to the other's mouth. This moment had been building for so long - they had been together for a decent amount of time and so far they had done nothing more than kiss. Joining him on the bed, her hand moved to him his jaw as she leaned in to kiss him, nodded against his forehead as he made his little request.

“But you know it’s never that bad?” If the words carried an air of confusion, that was because Fionn was confused. He’d not given her any reason in the past to be concerned in this way, had he? No times when she’d had to be actually worried about his breathing? Then, in his mind, there was surely no reason for her to think there ever would. He didn’t understand the conclusions she’d drawn, didn’t understand how to think in that way - his brain didn’t even consider it as a possibility. No, to him, there was simply no reason to ever be concerned for him.

Normally Elora had endless patience for Fionn. He viewed the world a little differently, tending to take things literally and finding it hard to always register when someone was joking. He got overwhelmed by loud noises, or lots of people talking at the same time, and he hated being squished in a crowd of people. Elora could always tell when he was starting to feel antsy - his brow would furrow and his fingers would begin to fidget, and usually she was able to calm him, to soothe him just by taking his hand and getting out of the situation. But this time? This time he had unfortunately crossed a line.

”Oh, I-“ the sheer force of her concern and confusion pulled him into the apartment and obediently into a chair, even though he felt it unnecessary and his face probably said as much - Fionn had never been good at masking what he was feeling, and subsequently he was generally easily read, whatever emotion currently playing on his mind making itself more than visible through his expression. “You really didn’t need to worry,” he said faintly, frowning a little at her worry. “You know it’s never that bad.” He couldn’t recall, off the top of his head, a time when he’d been with Elora and genuinely unable to breathe. Maybe once, when they were still friends and he’d been ill anyway and he was certain it was long enough ago that it wouldn’t play on her mind. Maybe he could tell himself she overreacted, get rid of the guilt which was starting to belatedly inform him that he might have made the wrong call. Fionn often realised these things too late, missed all the cues to tell him no until he’d already done the thing.

She was quick to make sure he was settled into a seat, listening to him closely and clocking that he seemed able to talk with ease. In fact, if he hadn’t told her he was struggling she wouldn’t have been able to tell. Something felt off, and Elora frowned slightly as she stood in front of him, a hand moving to push affectionately through his curls. “I’m always going to worry about you Fionn, you know that. You… you texts, you seemed really scared,” she hummed, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his forehead, listening as he spoke. 

"Who's is closer?" Was Fionn's breathless response, his lips already moving towards hers again for a gentle kiss. That was their dynamic, even as it deepened, even as it headed in a direction both of them knew was far different to anything they had done together before - a sense of gentleness toward the other. Accommodating each other. They both wanted this, he knew that, but still they treated each other with so much awe, so amazed were they to even get the chance to kiss. It was something he loved about them, something he hoped wouldn't end when the novelty of their relationship wore off.

“Dunno- dunno,” she mumbled against his lips, kissing him back just as his lips sought hers once more. There was no part of her that wanted to untangle herself from him in that moment, but she wanted privacy. Wanted a room, a bed, him, her. Just quiet. Just them. There was something about Fionn that disarmed her, and while she would normally be so deeply alarmed by that, he made her feel safe. She could be entirely herself with him without fear of judgement, and it was an incredible feeling.