strawberry kisses

The pre-dawn darkness wrapped around Catalina like a comforting shroud as she laced up her running shoes. The air was cool and tinged with the scent of impending rain, a familiar scent that stirred both anticipation and apprehension within her. Today was the morning before the full moon, a time when her werewolf instincts surged to the forefront, demanding attention and respect. With a deep breath, Catalina stepped out into the quiet streets of her neighborhood, the cobblestones cool beneath her feet. Habour Park awaited her, its sprawling paths and winding trails a sanctuary where she could clear her mind and brace herself for the night ahead.

The rhythmic pounding of her footsteps echoed in the stillness, a steady cadence that matched the racing thoughts in her mind. Full moons were always rough for Catalina—agonizingly so since becoming a mother to Leonardo and Marisol. She couldn't shake the guilt of leaving them alone, even with Aiysha's reassuring presence.

As she entered Habour Park, the first streaks of dawn painted the sky in hues of pink and gold. Catalina picked up her pace, her muscles stretching and flexing with each stride. The park was awakening with her—the rustle of leaves, the distant calls of waking birds—a serene backdrop to her solitary run.

With each step, Catalina focused on her breathing, inhaling the crisp morning air and exhaling the tension that coiled within her. She let her mind wander briefly to Aiysha, her steadfast friend who understood the complexities of her life better than anyone. Aiysha would watch over Leonardo and Marisol tonight, offering them comfort and protection in Catalina's absence. As she rounded a bend in the path, Catalina felt the first tendrils of sunlight warming her skin. The park was her refuge, a place where she could momentarily escape the weight of her lycanthropic nature and revel in the simple joy of movement. The morning jog was not just physical exercise—it was a ritual of preparation, a way to align her mind and body before the inevitable transformation under the full moon's gaze.

With her heart beating steadily and the park stretching out before her, Catalina found a moment of peace amidst the turmoil of the impending night. She knew the challenges that lay ahead—the primal urges, the restless energy—but for now, in the quiet embrace of Habour Park, she allowed herself to savor the tranquility of the present moment. As the sun continued its ascent, Catalina slowed her pace, coming to a stop at a scenic overlook that offered a breathtaking view of the forest waking up from within. She closed her eyes, soaking in the serenity of the moment, grateful for the respite before the storm.

With renewed resolve, Catalina turned back towards home, her mind clearer and her spirit steadier. The full moon awaited, but for now, she embraced the fleeting peace of the morning—a reminder that strength and resilience could be found even in the darkest of nights. The soft light of morning filtered through the curtains as Catalina returned from her jog in Habour Park. The rhythmic pounding of her feet had grounded her, easing the restlessness that always accompanied the full moon's approach. She took a moment outside her front door to catch her breath, the cool air soothing against her flushed skin.

With a determined exhale, Catalina pushed open the door to her cozy home, the scent of breakfast lingering in the air. It meant Aiysha had woken up to and was in her morning rituals. The werewolf quietly ascended the stairs to the twins' room, a smile tugging at her lips as she approached Leonardo and Marisol's beds. They lay peacefully, their dark curls framing their innocent faces as they slept.

"Mama's home," Catalina whispered softly, brushing a gentle hand over Leonardo's cheek. His eyes fluttered open, a sleepy smile spreading across his face as he recognized his mother's presence. Marisol stirred beside him, her eyes blinking open in sync with her brother's, their bond palpable even beyond their slumber. "Good morning, my loves," Catalina murmured, leaning down to press a kiss to each of their foreheads. She lingered for a moment, breathing in the scent of childhood and safety that enveloped their room. The guilt of leaving them alone tonight gnawed at her, but she pushed it aside, focusing on the joy of these morning moments together.

Downstairs, Aiysha was already in the kitchen, preparing a hearty breakfast for the family. Her best friend and roommate had become an integral part of their lives, especially during the challenging times of the full moon. Catalina silently thanked the universe for Aiysha's unwavering support as she descended the stairs, Leonardo and Marisol trailing behind her with excited chatter. Breakfast passed in a blur of laughter and conversation, the twins recounting dreams and plans for the day ahead. Catalina savored the simple pleasure of being surrounded by her children's energy, a bittersweet reminder of the fleeting calm before the storm.

After ensuring the twins were settled with Aiysha, Catalina made her way to Pato Pato Tapas. The familiar scent of spices and cooking oil greeted her as she stepped inside, the warmth of the kitchen a comforting contrast to the cool morning outside. With practiced efficiency, Catalina began the morning routine of checking inventory, reviewing reservations, and preparing the kitchen for the busy day ahead. Pato Pato Tapas was not just a business—it was a labor of love, a testament to her Mexican heritage and culinary passion.

As the first customers began to trickle in, Catalina greeted them with a warm smile and genuine hospitality. She moved through the restaurant with grace and purpose, ensuring every guest felt welcome and every dish left the kitchen with perfection. Assisting her staff during the bustling rush, she approaches the next table with practiced ease. "Welcome to Pato Pato Tapas," she greets warmly, her smile inviting. "What can I start for you today?"

Annabelle, normally, laid in bed all day. Called out of work ( which never made her boss too happy ). Moped around until she, quite literally, had no choice.

But they found their current room stuffy, hot, and uncomfortable in the summer sun. ( Wasn't England supposed to be cold and cloudy? Why were they sweating so much? ) Annabelle had to get out of the apartment and find a way to cool off. They were already going to be miserable enough as it was later that night. They would treat themself to...something. They just hadn't decided what yet.

Days like this Annabelle found herself painfully missing her sisters. On hot summer days, she'd push them both into the pool - followed by a lecture from her fathers. They would picnic outside, and Annabelle would drip strawberry jelly down her face. She used to call and complain about how hot it was - no matter how far apart they were.

But there wasn't any more of that, was there? When had they last spoken to either father? Or Jodette?

Their faces all run around in their mind, a feeling that Annabelle can't shake, until they're standing in front of Pato Pato, feeling about ten degrees cooler.

"I...sorry, what?" She asks. And after a blink, she realizes they were asking for her order. "Oh. Um," She usually didn't eat - anything in her stomach would be tossed out the next morning. But if she was trying new things...maybe it couldn't hurt. "Do you have something light?"

The young woman knew nothing. One weird text from her brother to stay home that night only made her more inclined to go out. Just because he was no fucking fun at all didn't mean that she should also be a social outcast. She could try out a new restaurant, stop by a wine bar, she didn't have to go clubbing to go out, maybe she would even stop by a bookstore.

Of course, once she was in the center of town, and the sun had set, it was aparrent that her brother had been right. The woman's stomach churning as she stepped from the bookstore and onto the sidewalk, before her eyes an animal; a wolf. Surely no wolf would be brave enough to leave the woods, as to her it looked as though it truly were just a simple wolf and not anything more. But it's confidence grew as it stepped towards her, growling through feral fangs. Chellam turned immediately back into the bookstore, locking the door behind her.

Wherever she'd heard of such a flower before, the rumors appeared to be true. The open bud practically glittered in the full moonlight. If she could just take a cutting -- but a single touch left her flat on her arse with her head fuzzy. Beatrice stumbled from the woods back into town, without quite realizing what was happening or where she was going.

The sudden exclamation brings her back. The bookshop. Yes. She had to purchase every book on local flora she could find - any other hint for the rumors she may have heard, the answer to...what, a toxic flower that only grew under the moonlight? She didn't know. She had to know.

Bea nearly goes back to browsing, when the startled gasps bring her back again. Wolf. There were more pressing matters at hand. "What do you mean...a wolf? A real wolf?" She glances back toward the blinds. "...Should...Should I call animal control??"

It was a significant ordeal, one that involved a court hearing, community service, and a cascade of apologies. Celestina was infamously known by her former fellow students as the girl who snapped and attacked her professor. It was a lunge, a pounce, catlike and without warning. After a flurry of scratches, a bit of blood, and undeniably malicious intent, she was pulled off the educator. Yes, a temper tantrum is what got her kicked out of school and banned from campus, but that didn’t keep Cece from visiting her old study buddies (study buddy, you see, is a very loose term since she wasn’t the best student), especially when she needed something.

The creep trailing behind her had followed her from Wolf Burger after her shift, his persistence unyielding as she entered the coffee shop seeking some reprieve from his unwanted advances. He asked once more, but she had already told him no; she didn’t want his stupid phone number so he could later bombard her with dick pics on WhatsApp—he just wasn’t getting the picture. So, she took matters into her own hands with a much-needed partner.

After spotting Beatrice, one of her old study buddies, Cece saw an opportunity and seized it without hesitation. She cupped Beatrice’s cheeks in her hands, feeling the warmth of her soft skin, and leaned in to press a long, forceful kiss on her lips. A jolt of adrenaline mingled with a surge of satisfaction as her lips moved with an intensity that spoke volumes. At once, she poured all her pent-up frustration and unspoken desire into one single, searing kiss. It was soft yet fierce, a paradox of gentleness and assertiveness that left her heart pounding in her chest. She almost forgot about the man altogether.

Two birds with one stone, right? Or rather, three: she proved she was a lesbian, caught Beatrice off guard, and finally kissed someone she’d been wanting to kiss since she’d settled in Fenrir.

She finally turned back to the bystander, hoping he’d now taken the hint. “See, told ya. I’m a flamer. Now, would you fuck off already, lad? My girlfriend here swings harder than I do, right Bea?”

"I'll have you know there isn't actually a legal limit for the number of espresso shots you can give me," She says at the counter. Yes, Bea had looked it up before after having been denied the pleasure in the past. "I don't want four, I want six. Please. Thank you," Finally she sighs when the barista gives her a look, but finally gives in and punches the number into the computer.

Behind her, she can hear some sort of altercation - but she needs to secure her computer and coffee before even beginning to investigate.

The moment, however, her computer is placed at an empty table, Beatrice turns - only to be confronted by an old classmate. First by her face. And then with their lips.

She'd kissed people before. Maybe once or twice, mostly out of curiosity. Maybe they hadn't been particularly good - or maybe Bea was just particularly bad - but it hadn't been notable or life-changing in the slightest.

Cece's lips against hers doesn't feel life-changing either. Softer, maybe, with a bitter taste of cigarettes. When Cece finally lets go, Bea stares between them both. Her finely manicured nails dig into the palms of her hands. "Do you mind?" The words are sour against her tongue. "I've got to talk to my...bird, here." Clearly caught off guard and not happy about it, Beatrice doesn't even here the barista call her name for her coffee, ready at the counter.

It was lucky because of this that someone spoke to her, however, when her gaze did shift it was hard not to become even more starved for just a bite of one. "Can't use your phone when they're covered in wing sauce too," she acknowledged, looking at the ones face, her sharp features surrounded by soft hair. "A little, but nothing drastic, just on the edges. I'd wait until you're done eating to worry about it though or you'll be wiping your face after every bite."

( Did they even have professional phone cleaners? They assumed as much - there had to be a need for that somewhere. )

With the confirmation that they weren't, in fact, dredged from head to toe with sticky sweet barbeque sauce, Annabelle is able to breathe a sigh of relief. "I guess I could wait until I'm finished..." But who knew when that would be? "But I don't want it to get dried and sticky on my face. The past few booths I've stopped by have run out of those little pocket sanitizer wipes, and I didn't think to buy any myself," If their dad had been there, he would have made sure her pockets were full. Unfortunately, he still resided on the other side of the ocean. "You haven't seen anywhere that still has them, have you?"

He started on the wing of a colourful bird and frowned with a smile at the comment. “Pretty sure Banksy is about my age, street art isn’t age-restricted, you know. Neither is crime.” He changed colours and continued to create the bird with big broad strokes. Good thing this was his specialty: producing something quickly and on a big scale. “Or is that something you would like to gatekeep?” He hung out with youngsters too much, all these words. He couldn’t help the grin. Annabelle had a match if they wanted to do banter.

They were, of course, joking about that exact kind of thing.

When it comes to art, Annabelle did not consider themself to be much of an artist, a family trait that she did not appear to have inherited. They knew a little about color theory and some historical art periods...which didn't do much in terms of street art. How would learning about cubism and understanding how different shades of blue were created help leave her mark on this town? They could just sign their own name...but that felt a little too obvious. And Annabelle was no Banksy, either.

"I...well...Okay, fine, you have a point about Banksy," Their eyes roll. "Is Banksy who you think of first when it comes to vandalism?" She asks. "I always think of punk kids with nothing better to do painting the sides of trains. I should know - I used to be one of those punk kids with nothing better to do."

The cool evening air had been filled with the distant sounds of laughter and chatter, a deceptive veil over the mischief brewing nearby. Had Amir known he was becoming an accessory to trespassing, perhaps he would have intervened immediately, halting the small crime before it unfolded, and dialing the necessary digits on his cellular phone to alert the authorities. He should have, in general, made a better effort to keep his phone on him; it was, after all, his duty to ensure that the youth under his care remained on the right path.

The social worker's sense of responsibility weighed heavily on his shoulders ( heavier than the gym bag that itched to touch the ground of the matted gym floors ), like an iron mantle, pressing down with the weight of accumulated wisdom and past errors. Yet, there was an undeniable thrill shrouding the air, an electric tension that hummed beneath the surface. He stood momentarily stunned as he watched the door swing open. "You know I should report you for breaking and almost entering, right?" he said, his tone a blend of amusement and admonition, the corners of his mouth twitching in a barely suppressed smile. "Where'd you learn to do that?"

Whatever his hobbies or life philosophies were, Annabelle didn't particularly care. They saw an issue - an unexpectedly closed gym - and took it upon herself to fix said issue. When the lock falls to the ground, Annabelle half expects some applause. After all, its what their father - and grandfather before that - would have done. Instead, someone decides to be a party pooper about it all. "Technically, I haven't entered anywhere yet. Nor have I broken anything. This lock still works just fine," They shrug, failing to see the issue with their actions. "My dad likes to say he taught me. And his dad taught him. But I'm pretty sure I picked it up on my own long before that," Annabelle shrugs. "It's not like we're going to take anything. I mean, you pay for the gym, right? We're just...using the equipment that you already pay for. And that hardly seems like a crime to me."

Listening to Beatrice recount her life, Nohemi envisions the many threads of chaos, but a chaos that sparkles with beauty. It's like the distraction of a falling star piercing the dark night sky, or the striking brilliance of lightning followed by the rolling roar of thunder. She couldn't imagine it being healthy, to never take breaks, to never pause. "If we're going to be friends, you're going to have to take breaks with me, Bea." A gentle smile tugs at her lips, though she isn’t entirely sure they are friends yet. Navigating new friendships is like walking on untrodden paths, but once Nohemi finds someone she likes, it's hard to get rid of her. "You have to stop to eat, breathe, and, you know, enjoy the little things. When's the last time you sat in silence, with nothing to do?"

Her agreement with Beatrice about the library being a second home is fervent. "It started out as just a job," she recalls fondly. "I just came in to help clean the communal areas and organize the chairs, dust—stuff like that, and then I guess I fell in love with it all. I just like learning new things when I can, you know?"

Now, Beatrice knew the importance bugs and insects had on her work. Without bugs, many key pollination tactics would not happen. Bugs were perhaps just as important as plants. But flowers and leaves and stems and roots didn't crawl over her skin the way ants and inch worms did.

Abruptly, Beatrice's walking stops. "Why are you so curious about what I like?" A natural curiosity is something that Bea understood, but about the world around them...not so much in regards to other people. "I didn't know we were to be friends," And she really didn't have many for those. Associates, maybe. Coworkers. But where was the time for such things? She still had papers to write, research to do, and a lifetime to better herself, to make a lasting impact on the world.

Hadn't that been all her grandparents taught her to do?

"I sit in silence in the library all the time," She counters. "And I'm quite happy with how my life is," Nohemi was not the first to try and get Bea to slow down, and she doubted Nohemi would be the last. At the very least, one thing they were in agreement on was their love of the library. "Is there much downtime for learning new things?" A librarianship would've been an alternate career path in a different universe of Beatrice's life. "I imagine patrons keep you rather busy."

Topher scratched the back of their neck, below their hair. “It mostly feels like an afterthought,” they said. “Two years too late. I don’t know if Merrin would’ve liked it, probably not, or maybe they would’ve… what do you think?”

The words still felt sour in her mouth. Death felt all to heavy to deal with, so it was easier to not. This was the first time in...weeks? Months? Since Bea had thought of Merrin. Work was easy to deal with. Death? Philosophers spent their entire lives trying to decode its mysteries, and still no single person was ever close to the truth.

"Would you want something like this?" She asks next. "For your name to be...memorialized in such a way?"