hija de la luna

who: lucia + open when: anytime! utp where: anywhere public! utp

"Mierda, mierda, mierda,” Lucía cursed under her breath as she fidgeted with hew new phone: an annoying, smooth rectangle with no buttons and none of the ‘easy, intuitive handling’ that the irritatingly peppy and pimply kid from the shop had promised. Before she had almost slapped him for offering her the same model in pink with a glittery protective case. The whole experience had been infuriating. From having to leave the safety of her dark and familiar streets and exchange them for bright lights and the linoleum floors of the shopping mall. It was definitely a sad day when her little cellphone with its buttons and more than a decade of well lived life decided to stop responding. 

Truth was, she needed a phone. Keep the business moving. Keep the clients happy. Keep in touch with the pack... Yeah, right. 

As somebody who could barely read and write, even after fifty years of being alive, the “smartphone” was proving like a worthy opponent. Lucía, in human form, could snap bones and take down contenders twice her size... But this little rectangle... “Fuck!” she screamed again as the screen started calling a random number while the icons quivered. “...Siri? What the fuck is a Siri? Phone, unlock. Unlock!” A sigh and a clatter as she let her phone fall to the bench next to her. Defeated, she turned to nobody in particular, “When did buttons became obsolete?”

Her dirty paws and furry coat She ran down the forest slopes The forest of talking trees They used to sing about the birds and the bees The bees had declared a war The sky wasn't big enough for them all The birds, they got help from below From dirty paws and the creatures of snow.

delilah thinks her excitement should decrease now that lucía is finally here, just an arm’s reach away. anticipation reached its climax and now she’s here, all soft decorated skin and wet golden curls and delilah can’t seem to get her heart rate to a sensible speed. if anything, it beats faster, adrenaline and oxytocin and everything else running thick inside her veins. her heart lurches against her chest, propelling delilah forward, leading her closer in lucía’s direction, closer to drowning in her eyes. she thinks she might have to take a breath soon. 

a step closer and delilah huffs a laugh. what a silly notion - that she might bail on their encounters. of course, the brunette doesn’t dwell on thoughts about the nature of their relationship. she thinks of their intoxicating moments, she thinks of how much lucía colors her nights and breathes life into her. however, she thinks not of what they are and how enamored she already finds herself. she can’t admit to herself, doesn’t know how. in their world, love comes with a price. how can she justify giving it willingly? no payment except lucía’s smiles and sighs and the deep satisfaction in delilah’s very soul. it’s uncharted territory, so she doesn’t dwell on it, rather prefers to enjoy the present. and the present brought them here. 

but then again, there’s something she can admit: it’s very unlikely she will trade these encounters for anything else. terribly unlikely to see her interest in the weyr decrease. and delilah looks at her, affectionate and amused, as if lucía just told her an amusing, endearing joke. “as if you need any of these tricks,” she says, taking another step forward and closing the distance between them. “you suffice to keep me interested in our getaways,” green eyes stare at her then and she says it almost as a whisper. 

“you smell good,” delilah observes then. she reaches for a curl, fingers tangling on it before moving her hand upwards. she brushes a thumb over lucía’s collarbone, mouth watering and licking her lips. upwards, caressing a slender neck and her jaw. delilah figures that she can just kiss her, lay her on the motel bed, but it feels too thoughtless. it feels as if she’s another one on her bed and the brunette feels she doesn’t want that. no - she wants lucía to remember her. she wants the best in her bed, wants to plague lucía’s thoughts just like the blonde plagues hers. her thumb brushes lucía’s cheek then and delilah’s lips follows it. one cheek, then the other, then the corner of the blonde’s mouth - lips lingering, inviting.

Lucía’s tightly wound muscles start relaxing at an alarming pace, a strange warmth wrapping her body tightly, delicately even as Delilah’s familiar scent envelopes the young weyr. It’s an indescribable feeling, akin to the one the blonde felt when she stepped out into the woods, on a quiet morning, damp soil under her paws, crisp air ruffling soft fur and the undertones of sunrise coloring everything around her in a breathtaking palette torn straight from an artist’s dreams. Unrestrained, unconstricted freedom, where as a wolf, she could dart off into the horizon, feeling her tendons and bones work at supernatural capacity and for once feel at peace with existing. Somehow, here with Delilah, the feeling was eerily similar. Except that Lucía was in full human form. But with no makeup masking her physical imperfections, no façade designed to create an alter ego for the world to see instead... She could just be. And it was terrifying, but at the same time, it came with a feeling that everything leading to that moment in the motel (and all the other moments leading to other encounters with Dels) had somehow been worth it. The blood, sweat, tears, trauma, scars... All worth it. Somehow.

A breath gets stuck in Lucía’s lungs as Delilah steps closer because she will never ever get used to the breathtaking beauty of the woman in front of her. She’s all fine lines and sharp angles, yet also perfect curves and soft skin that Lucía could aimlessly trace forever with shy fingers while the brunette would slumber next to her.

Dels’ laugh is intoxicating and contagious, and Lucía mimics her with one of her own. And she feels the breath she had been holding in before being released shakily at the brunette’s admission, because while the weyr had been joking, she knew that without these encounters with Delilah, her life would rapidly lose the newfound meaning the dancer had brought. And Lucía knew what would happen next: she got sloppy, she got careless, she went on delirious rampages trying to find a purpose in all the wrong places. Switching when there was no full moons, running her mouth with the wrong crowd... Cosas malas. Please never leave me, she wants to say, but it dies on her lips before she even starts forming the words, left unsaid like so many truths between them.

“That’s good to know,” she whispers back, her body almost bowing before the goddess in front of her, practically unable to stand the way Delilah looks at her, like she actually sees her and cares and will not leave her on the expensive carpet of an expensive hotel after throwing a wad of cash on her used body. “It’s never too early to up the ante... Keep you coming back for more...” She finishes, licking her lips, chest hitching slightly as she tries to remember to breathe.

The weyr’s knees almost buckle at the much craved touch, once Delilah’s skin finally comes in contact with hers. Her skin covers in goosebumps, and she feels, feels, feels so much. Hazel-green eyes flutter close as she takes in the gentle caresses and it’s not near the first time Lucía feels she could just cry with the amount of care and gentleness and devotion she feels when Delilah touches her. Something so unknown yet so longed for. But she can’t show it or like a frightened bird, it could fly away, out of her reach. 

With a gentle sigh, she finally opens her eyes, glistening with many emotions and she leans forward slightly, letting her forehead rest against Delilah’s gently, breathing her in. It is then when she can wait no longer and she grazes the side of the brunette’s face with her nose, traveling upwards until her lips press against the other woman’s, ever so gently, shyly asking for permission before deepening the kiss. Her hands find themselves resting on Delilah’s hips, pulling them even closer together, gently stroking the skin of her lower ribs, entranced in the feeling of something so beautiful, so alive beneath her fingertips. If only she didn’t need oxygen and the world around them could cease to exist for just a little while...

tattoos: aside from nicotine and maybe sex (it’s very complicated), lucía’s main addiction is getting her skin inked. it started as a way to embellish old and new scars, but the needle in her skin tapped into her love-hate relationship with pain. and she became addicted to watching something so beautiful become permanently embedded on her corrupted self via sharp objects, ink, swollen flesh and blood. 

( closed for @luciahowls )

the moon is already low on the sky when delilah exits the lusty lady. her body is heavy with the toll of a long night entertaining patrons and satisfying their thirst for love. she can never understand how they can find any fulfillment in the shallow interactions they hold in the strip club. granted, all the girls - delilah, especially - are good in creating the illusion of love and attraction. after two years, delilah is but an expert in flirting with patrons but letting them think nobody receives the same treatment. one suggestive look and there are dollars in her stockings. a secret smile and she has them on their knees for her, emptying their wallets of money and their chests with promises. delilah lets them think she believes them, that they just gotta keep coming one more night and soon she will be theirs. people can really be blind when they’re desperate for love.

hands tighten the coat around her frame, the autumn chill biting as she walks away from the club. for once, she is not going home to fall in bed as soon as possible. although said perspective would upset her usually, it’s not the case for this night. she expects she will fall in bed eventually but not by herself. there is a smile on the corner of her smile, subtle and barely there, but one she cannot seem to push back despite her talent for acting. this smile is all for her - lucia. 

they met when delilah was just a newcomer and the nature of their relationship caught delilah by surprise. she is very well used to be the magnet, attracting people and their affections like metal scraps no matter where she walks. she would think that another magnet would repel her instead of attracting her, but lucia proves her wrong. or perhaps, lucia just changes something deep inside of her and delilah is metal and she is magnet, pulling the younger hopelessly in her direction. either way, delilah doesn’t seem to be able to resist the pull lucia has on her or the smile that permeates her face whenever she is to meet her. 

so for once, the end of the night means the beginning of something exciting. delilah puts herself on the way for the motel they agreed on. she would bring lucia to her place but she doesn’t feel like dealing with annabelle, not wanting to ruin her peaceful night with any sort of quarrel. that, and the uneasy feeling that accompanies it. somehow, meeting her inside her own space, her home, feels too intimate, too close for the unspoken arrangement they have. they are not yet, delilah doesn’t think so. then in the motel they meet. 

delilah arrives first, denies herself to think why lucia isn’t there yet. instead, she takes the smell of the strip club to the shower and washes it off, slips on her own bathrobe when she feels finally clean. thankfully, she doesn’t have to wait for much longer, for she hears the door clicking and a smile appears on her face as she turns to welcome her company for the night. 

“you sure know how to keep a woman waiting,” delilah says, soft and with no heat on her voice. she approaches the other, relaxed and even happy. “i’m just kidding. hello lucia,” and her smile grows, bright and warm.

It has been a long, long, long night for Lucía. One that started at sundown and went on and on until the sun had set again, the next day. Two days merged into one endless night, where she barely got to catch a glimpse of the sunlight, when one of her clients had stumbled off the bed and knocked against the blinds of the hotel room, making them swinging and letting in treacherous rays of light. Lucía had hated that, because she had been able to perceive details of the people in the room that she would have much rather kept literally in the dark. There had been four people, she’s pretty sure. Of different ages. Men, women and who knew what else, the light had been gone before she could pinpoint exactly. But the light from the candles and few lamps lit in the room had blinded the weyr when it bounced off of the wedding bands that they all wore. They didn’t seem to feel them, but Lucía swore she could (even if gold wasn’t supposed to burn her, unlike silver) as they travel along her skin and even inside of her. 

And as she laid, face down on the luxurious hotel’s carpet, with a grunting politician digging his meaty fingers into her protruding hipbones, Lucía felt so incredibly guilty. A differently kind of guilt than the one than usually plagued her just for existing... This one had to do with the most piercing green eyes she had ever had the privilege of seeing... And later getting lost in: delilah.

Delilah, with her dancing on and off stage that could hypnotize and make Lucía blissfully forget who she was, where she was and what she did. Delilah, whose hands and lips ripped genuine sighs and whimpers and moans from Lucía’s throat like nobody else had ever been able to do. Delilah, who made Lucía voluntarily renounce to hiding from the world after a long day and follow her wherever she was, trying to hide the eagerness she felt at seeing the brunette.

Lucía is thinking about Delilah’s sharp cheekbones, her eyes, her caramel skin, her talented fingers, her scent, and it is this train of thought that gets her through her last patron of the day, who leaves her crumpled on the carpet, in a mess of dirty sheets, undergarments and erotic paraphernalia. He quite literally throws the wad of cash on Lucía’s battered body and it takes her many minutes to finally be able to get on her feet and into the bathroom. She’s taking full advantage of the hotel this high profile client had chosen and she uses the bathtub, the shower, the minibar and everything that she can (also swipes some things, those towels are soft). Because she deserves it and also because there’s no way in Hell that she’s going to meet Delilah reeking of whatever inferno she had just survived.

Which is why the rare sight of an almost make up-less Lucía is making her way to the motel room where they are supposed to meet. Looking so much younger than she is, freckles and natural, still wet curls, skinny jeans and a tasteful crop top that displays her toned figure. She takes a deep breath to quell the fluttering in her stomach and she walks in, feeling for the first time in forever that she can finally breathe properly, shoulders instantly relaxing and a small heat blooming across her cheeks. She mimics the smile and leaves her bag by the door, stepping closer and licking her lips. “I gotta do what I gotta to do to keep you interested, Dels. Can’t risk you bailing on our little getaways, can I?” She steps even closer, itching to reach out and touch the other woman, but reigning the eagerness. It’s how they did things.

* ╱ 𝖛𝖆𝖑𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖎𝖓𝖔 𝖑𝖊𝖓𝖓𝖔𝖝

●︎ when: august 28th, 2019 ●︎ where: manducare, rapid city ●︎ with: @luciahowls

nothing was ever what it seemed. valentino couldn’t disagree more with the classic saying. perception was key in survival and he attested to this by leading life taking others for what they were and what they shown him. what outsiders considered his social circle as allies or partners in crimes, he viewed them as resources needed to achieve his end goal. there’s no point in trying to decipher a person’s character, history, and ambitious when they’re keen on hiding it from the world. he grew to this, became level headed and nonchalant about his surroundings while simultaneously threading between grey lines. in front of him, he saw a woman with a threatening gleam and eerily calmness to her he found fascinating to watch. her words differed from her demeanor with self-deprecating undertones and a callous language but he paid no attention. he could appreciate the coarse honesty, what he failed to do was understand it. 

“duly noted. a few of the men have requested particular and past individuals for those requests. no need to worry. we’ve paired you with quite the quaint fellow regardless.” he attempted to reassure but he could tell it would fall to deaf ears. she was there for monetary reasons, nothing more, nothing less. “however, we do need to sign a disclosure this time around. a few of your associates from last year’s event decided to breach the confidentiality we pride ourselves in having.” he spoke eloquently about the disastrous consequences dealt by the men in his corner. consequences would be a misleading statement considering their crimes were swept under the radar with hush money.

“if you’re not okay with this change, we’ll oblige in moving forward with another from your agency. but if you are,” he reached over to his pants right pocket, slipping the business card between his fingers and extending it over to the muse. it had the address printed, ‘hillside cottages, spearfish sd’ and containing a brief information of where they were planning the stay this year. the woods surrounding the cabins would provide the secrecy the brothers desired but the venue didn’t mirror the usual lavish establishments they usually booked. “you’ll sign the paperwork and receive your payment once you arrive at the desired location on the tenth of october. what do you say.”

More than usual, Lucía wished she had a cigarette handy, to quell her anxiety and to give her something to do, a curtain of smoke she could blow before her to blur any kind of real emotion that might slip past her icy mask of indiference. Of having any problem with being a glorified fleshlight, a toy, something not human. Oh, the irony behind that statement as she hadn’t been fully human for a couple of decades now. If she could only just turn off those pesky feelings of survival, the human instincts that kept her alive: apprehension, stress, hestitation, fear... She could just turn into the animal these idiotic children wanted and let the three days breeze by with minor psychological damage. But she couldn’t. And at the news of being “assigned” to a more mellow crowd did provide some relief, perfectly manicured nails detaching from her palms, leaving crescent shaped imprints on the soft skin.

“That is a relief,” she retorted with sarcasm-veiled truth. “I wouldn’t complain if during these festivities I were to be introduced to a more adept bunch. You know, that can last longer than what it takes me to unzip my dress.” She pointed with an aloof wink, trying not to think about all the other ways these frat boys could get creative. Lucía gave a half shrug at the request, not surprised at all. “It’s no problem from me, handsome. And I’m sure you know I’m one of the loyal ones...” She drawled, approaching the young man, almost circling him like she would to a prey while in wolf form. This was when she had to at least pretend to have the higher ground. To be the one calling the shots.

She extended her hand and delicately took the business card, her eyes not leaving his. Agency. Is that what kids nowadays were calling pimps? And debt? And the inability to literally work as anything else but a prostitute with a fancier name. She chuckled quietly, giving the card a quick glance. “Oh, you got yourself a deal. I’ll be there, hon.” She stuck the card into her bra, for added theatrics. “Any further instructions? Outfit, wardrobe changes, even appearance... For an extra fee I can modify a lot of things.” 

even as she’s studying the other woman , she expects the same of her.  and so she waits for her reaction to the scents of the sky and blood and scales that always cling to her skin.  she’s a predator that even skinny jeans and a nice scarf can’t hide.  but nothing too obvious comes from her new friend.  either she’s very inexperienced or very experienced.  she either didn’t know how to inspect the ones before her or was hiding her response.  probably the latter given the squirm in her hands and the look in her eyes.  

but she hadn’t intended this to be precursor or a ‘sizing-up’ before a fight or other alteraction.  she merely wanted to know to whom she was talking , and wanted to know the other was also smart enough to do the same.  

❝  i hate litterers.  they have their own homes to dirty.  why do the same to ours?   ❞    a sigh came to her lips as she readjusted her jacket.  the fire in her kept most temperatures at bay but the autumn’s morning chill seemed to have gotten past that.   ❝   i’m zahra.  ❞

With her (current) metaphoric tail between her legs and shoulders slightly bowed in an unconscious signal of submission, Lucía’s senses keep trying to pintpoint exactly what she is facing. Who she is facing. But the mixture of scents coming from the dark haired woman don’t make much sense for the young weyr, so she just decides to stand her ground and not pry. 

So she relaxed her muscles slightly and took a deep breath of the crisp, morning air that adorned the mountains, letting it relax her further.

She nodded along with her words, “I agree. I wish they could be held accountable.” When the other woman referred to the woods as her home too, Lucía’s head cocked to the side (much like a wolf or a dog would) “I... Yes. It’s too much of a sacred and important place to be adorned with wrappers and whatnot.” She cleared her throat, “I’m Lucía. Nice to meet you... That’s a lovely name.”

Vik rolled her eyes at the woman attempting to tally scores. “Don’t start talking like that, Lu, I’ll end up letting you steal everything I have.” In many ways, Lucía felt like an equal. Their goals, the goals that Vik had aligned himself within the water, matched up wonderfully and she appreciated the way she carried herself. Though the syren had no ability to drown the foolish any longer, she’d slowly began to realize that they would drown themselves, no body of water necessary. 

“Oh time is a trivial little construct, best spent in the places you enjoy the most.” And surely there was no better place than between her crisp sheets on lazy afternoons just existing to please each other. Vik wasn’t a qualified philosopher, maybe more a self-help guru knowing that sex was a crucial point of finding any small morsel of enjoyment in life. It made her wonder what Lucía’s job did to it if it had the ability to morph it. It wasn’t something she thought at length about, the woman’s little ministrations spoke enough of her preferences. Intimacy for Vik was deep, languid and entirely unapologetic, though she remained respectful of Lucía’s tendency to sidestep.

“Can’t complain? Not but a moment ago you were full of complaints, pick one, darling.” Her meyr was showing, cutthroat words paired with a gleaming smirk. Their world’s and circles seemed well separated and it was probably best for both parties. Vik wasn’t one to dig into anyone else’s past for fear that they’d dig into hers’. As open as she seemed, there was a wall that made itself known and her talented tongue skirted around all questions. “Glitz and glamour, I suppose that I’ll let you know when I get there. This week has been again dedicated to wearing clothes that I don’t own and being told that I am one of the most visually appealing people to have graced earth.” A dose of hyperbole but she figured it never hurt to speak for others. 

Lucía chuckled sultrily once more, licking her lips and cocking an eyebrow in amusement. Her eyes fluttered down to the floor for an instant as she tried to compose the tempest brewing inside her chest, at the perceived devotion dripping from Vik’s words. Please, don’t, echoed in her head. She was not wired to function with the kind of attention that Vik was giving her. She was the quick fuck, the silent fuck, the never-to-be-seen-again fuck. And that was how she wanted, because whenever she felt Vik’s steady yet delicate hands tracing along her skin, she felt like they were pulling against the fragile seams that kept her together. “Everything you have? I like to keep my existence very simple... However, I will not refuse those high thread count silk sheets of yours. Even though you always seem so adamant to keep them off of me.”

It always came down to two things when Vik started talking like that: feeling like Lucía could just put her hand over their mouth to shut them up (or anything else) or just stare it awe with wide, glistening eyes because... Seriously, who spoke like that nowadays? Granted, the young weyrwolf hadn’t lived nearly as much as her “comrades” from the pack, but she had experienced the evolution of the language over the decades and... There had never been anyone like Vik. Everything came down to that. Their ethereal uniqueness was what made Lucía keep coming back from more, against all her principles. She sighed dramatically, hiding her true admiration. “Are you going to start commercializing your words now too? I can see a flurry of middle aged, white mothers buying all your phrases embroidered in throw pillows and coffee cups.” 

“You speak as if you don’t know me,” Lucía said with a dramatic pout, hands circling the warm cup of coffee that started thawing her bones. “I’m never the same, always full of surprises.” Their encounters, when words were involved and not just bodies, were always the same. Frustrating dances on eggshells and broken glass, cautious quips and smirks never revealing any kind of truths or real information. But Lucía would not dwell on it. After all, she was getting what she gave. Sipping on the warm drink, her eyebrows rose, “It sounds like your cross is a heavy one to bear, darling. Fancy clothes and compliments, how dare they.”

BODY LANGUAGE.

bold.      always   /  usually applies italic.      only applies situationally   /   sometimes

𝚍𝚎𝚏𝚎𝚗𝚜𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜.   arms  crossed  on  chest / hugging oneself.     crossing  legs.    fist-like  gestures.   pointing  index  finger.   karate  chops.      stiffening  of  shoulders.    tense  posture.   curling  of  lip.     baring  of  teeth.

𝚛𝚎𝚏𝚕𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚟𝚎.     hand  to  face  gestures.      head  tilted.    stroking chin.      peering  over   glasses.    taking glasses  off  —  cleaning.      putting  earpiece  of  glasses  in mouth.       pipe  smoker  gestures.      putting  hand  to  the  bridge  of  nose.  pursed  lips.   knitted  brows.

𝚜𝚞𝚜𝚙𝚒𝚌𝚒𝚘𝚗.  arms  crossed.     sideways  glance.  touching  or  rubbing  nose.    rubbing  eyes.     hands  resting  on  weapon.     brows  rising.     lips  pressing  into  a  thin  line.     strict  unwavering  eye  contact.   wrinkling  of  nose.

𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜 & 𝚌𝚘𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗.   open  hands.     upper  body  in  sprinters  position.    sitting  on  the  edge  of  a  chair.      hand-to-face gestures.      unbuttoned  coat.     tilted  head. slacked  shoulders.    droopy  posture.      feet  pointed  outward.      palms  flat  and  facing  outward.

𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚏𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎.    hands  behind  back.     hands  on  lapels  of  coat.   steepled  hands.  baring  teeth  in  a  grin.    rolling  shoulders.     tipping  head  back  but maintaining  eye  contact.     chest  puffed  up.     shoulders  back.     arms  folded  just  above  navel.

𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚎𝚌𝚞𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚢 & 𝚊𝚗𝚡𝚒𝚎𝚝𝚢.   chewing  pen  or  pencil.      rubbing  thumb  over  opposite  thumb.      biting  fingernails.  hands  in  pockets.      elbow  bent.     closed  gestures.     clearing  throat.   “ whew ”  sound.      picking  or  pinching  flesh.    fidgeting  in  chair.   hand  covering  mouth  whilst  speaking.   poor  eye  contact.     tugging  at  pants  whilst  seated.    jingling  money  in pockets.      tugging  at  ear.    perspiring  hands.    playing  with  hair.   swaying.     playing  with  pointer or marker.      smacking  lips.    sighing.     rocking  on  balls  of  feet.   flexing  fingers  sporadically.

* ╱ 𝖛𝖆𝖑𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖎𝖓𝖔 𝖑𝖊𝖓𝖓𝖔𝖝

●︎ when: august 28th, 2019 ●︎ where: manducare, rapid city ●︎ with: @luciahowls

‘no, just stay one more minute,’ macaulay whispered, body tangling with valentino’s so he wouldn’t let the man escape from their morning. so fruitful each second he spends with the other, finally he found a beacon in a rather bleak state of mind and surrounding. for reasons he hasn’t had the nerve to divulge with his lover yet. attending to macaulay’s needs, he’s only departing from the mott manor the a minute before the appointed time his lucius required of him. he considered the tasks asked of him as minimal debt to pay. so when he calls, valentino will take to his side. in real world time, however, valentino’s incapability of being punctual was his downfall. making it exactly thirty minutes after the arranged time, the wytch struts in like he wasn’t the wiser.

this particular one involved meeting with a client of lucius’. every few months, his brother threw lavish soirees for the pledges and ranking members to appease their hunger. every door hidden behind gamma nu alpha would be hiding a carnal pleasure designed specifically for each brother. and the lines of brotherhood thread carefully during these nights. yet, there he was, meeting with a prospect. “apologies for my lateness,” he didn’t offer an explanation, otherwise he would said an ill-fitting joke. narrowed eyes linger on the muse, remembering her from past events. “now, we’ll be in need of your services for approximately three days. and all of your expenses will be taken care of, per usual.” he went straight to the point, not wasting either of their time to come to an agreement. “i’d assume you have terms of your own. yes?”

Lucía could still smell the leftover peroxide scent lingering in her newly dirty-blonde hair. This is how she liked it, just like her wolf-self had, her natural color. But when one of your highest paying clients had a thing for brunettes, all that was left to do was suck it up and dye it. Luckily he only requested her services once a month. The weyr was sitting on a fancy windowsill, trying as hard as she could not to bite her nails to appease her growing apprehension. Sure, these frat parties left her bank account with more zeros than she could ever earn just working her usual circuit in Maitland, but God did she hate them. It was not unusual for the woman to feel like she wanted to sink her fangs into the neck of her clients, on the contrary. But it increased tenfold in the presence of these college children; entitled, reeking of beer and drugs they could not handle, with expensive watches with sharp edges and a sense of superiority that Lucía could not stomach. Plus, they would get rowdy, hot-headed and competitive, ready to see who could make their “playthings” scream the loudest, not caring if it was from pain or pleasure. 

She shuddered at the thought and tried to dissociate from her present predicament, absently tracing the delicate lines of the tattoos that adorned her body. She had opted for a cocktail dress for the occasion: velvety, tight, low cut and perfectly paired with expensive looking jewelry. She had fit right into the Manducare population, just one more of them. 

She jumped to her feet as she heard the knob turning, leaning casually against the wall. She was a pro. This was not her first rodeo. It would be over so very soon... Those were the thoughts crossing her mind as she steeled herself, regarding the boy with her signature sexy smirk. “No harm, no foul, handsome. I charge by the hour.” Her mask was back in place, everything perfectly orchestrated for another stellar performance by Lucía the weyrwolf. 

Three days, fuck. She felt her stomach twisting but her expression remained the same as she twirled a strand of her hair idly, repeating from memory something she had said almost as much as her own name: “You can do whatever you want to me as long as it’s not going to leave any permanent damage. We’re talking marks, scarring, crippling... I can go into further detail but you look like a smart boy.” She finally looked up at him, still trying to appear bored. “However, if you do fancy any of the above, it must be preapproved and vouched for by a witness of my choosing... Other than that... Anything goes.” She drawled out seductively, dialing up her charm by a thousand and letting her leather jacket slide off of her shoulders and down to the floor.

The woman stood in front of her was truly unlike any other. At the very least it was strange that she found no home in the ocean. Her mannerisms and the glow in her eye would surely drag any man to his undoing. Vik was lucky that she was well versed in the world of flirtation, otherwise the line of adoration would have surely been blurred with infatuation. “Then aren’t you lucky I let you ruffle my pretty feathers.” The ocean was so bountiful, overflowing with features and aesthetics that were truly beyond compare to those who chose to trudge on spindly legs. Lucía’s visage certainly would have been welcomed in the Citadel Kingdom, probably more so than Vik’s would have.

“You make it sounds like a complaint, Lu.” Vik was a generous lover and that was certainly putting it lightly. It was the streak of romanticism in her that couldn’t help but want to thoroughly please other people. “I’ll file it will all the other sweet nothings.” There was no bite in her tone, only warmth. The smirks faded in and out of being a wholly welcoming and joyous grin at getting to be in the woman’s company so unexpectedly.

Vik took a half step closer, brushing past Lucía’s arm to place her card on the counter before pulling back to look at the woman in front of her. “Here, I think.” Vik was happiest in other people’s space, hand-holding, cuddling, any sort of sliver of intimacy she could steal she would. Never wishing to invade, only ever taking invitations. “How’ve you been?” The words were just between them, the ocean that lapped in her blue eyes focused and unwavering. 

“I do feel indeed, very lucky,” she said casually, flicking imaginary lint off of her blazer, “Aren’t you glad that I do? I have been known for robbing a sigh or two from your lips...” Vik had washed over her like a treacherous wave, one that was apparently harmless but carried so much current underneath, sweeping anyone off their feet and into their turmoil. A mess of limbs entangled in the model’s silky sheets, hair that was always platinum blonde against darker blonde and dirty blonde and even pink when/if Lucía’s client was adamant about paying for a certain fetish. If intercourse in Lucía’s life was ever fully consensual, she liked it to be animalistic, mind numbing; lights off, no eye contact. Almost like most of her clients wanted but now she was the one calling the shots. But Vik’s soulful eyes always seemed to seek her own, tracing her taught muscles, her tattoos, her scars... It was too much, and Lucía was always forced to try and get on top, to guide the other woman’s eyes to where she herself wanted them. Fucking Vik.

Lucía rolled her eyes at Vik’s words, always so velvety, always trying to catch her off guard it seemed, “It might be a complain because you make me lose track of time and thus be late to things I had previously planned...” She turned around against the counter to fully face Vik now having placed her order. “Sweet nothings? Have I ever? You must have me confused.”

Vik’s soft touch made Lucía’s skin break into goosebumps, as familiar as the intimacy with the blonde was. She was never used to touching. She was averse towards it, ironically, working as a prostitute. Or unironically? But she didn’t shy away from the closeness, another effect Vik had on her. She shrugged lightly, “Been good. Can’t complain.” Lies. “How about you? How’s the life of glitz and glamour?” 

muse aesthetics.

bold what applies. 

the softest palms that never want to touch you until after a bottle of wine. / “ just braid your hair if you won’t brush it, at least, you useless girl. ” / pulling on your skirt with one hand as you shuffle away. / “ you’ll get it done before the day is up. ” / guilt that isn’t yours to have. / it’s a crooked game, but it’s the only one in town. / chains. / “ how could you do this to me?” / the sharp sting of guilt. / you feel something even though you’re paid to do the opposite. / the family you never had. / falling backwards through time. / quicksand. / drowning, but you don’t save yourself. / “ you’re getting better. ” / “ he smiles like a snake. ” / you’re the stars and the sky. / there’s a part of you that couldn’t stay away even if you were forced to. / they are your wings, there’s no doubt there. / “ let’s take off somewhere. let’s fly. ” / you edge a bit too close to the sun. / another ghost to take your place after every stumble. / deep roots in the ground slashed open in the sun. / rock candy melting in water. / waves rise and leave the foam behind. / the precipice you call home has a tip you’ll reach eventually. / happiness is the best front a man can take. / “ i’ve never seen someone as beautiful as you before.” / you disagree; they’re more beautiful. / discomfort at the tiniest of touches. / the sky opens up when you see them. / rain comes down. / poppy fields. / your sanity hanging by a thread. / “oh god, what have you done? ” / roommates weren’t supposed to be the smartest ones of all. / he’s got a devil on his shoulder and an angel in his mind. / you try to help, but it only got worse. / now they’re dead, it’s all your fault. / adam & eve in the garden. / a temptress in crisp button-downs. / “ fuck, you’ve gone off the deep end, haven’t you? ” / they lie so perfectly you almost forget yourself. / the spark that lit the kindling on your funeral pyre. / sugar and spice and a taste for the dark side. / yves saint laurent black opium on your pillow, a scented cloud drifting behind you like a cape. / crisp green apples piled up on the table. / your shoes are sharp, but your wit is even sharper. / what a pretty one, they say. / you laugh without humor. / a soft, hollow spot sits in your chest. / there’s a place you’ll never leave no matter who tries to stop you. / the seat of power fits like a glove. / heavy is the head that wears the crown. / you share a space, but not a mind. / they think you are weak; you are, maybe. / “ what are you going to do with all of these pills? ” / an empty bird’s nest. / broken pencil tips. / there’s an empty paper in front of you that you’ll never fill. / “ we want you to succeed. i hope you can grasp that. ” / “ they weren’t there when it happened. ” / corruption. / there’s a red string tying you together. / the scent of whiskey on the horizon. / “ you’re the best friend i’ve ever had. ” / pink tipped fingers lock in secrecy. / 99 red balloons drifting through a hazy sky. / you try to lift your head up, but it’s so much effort. / always walking on sunshine. / there’s a million reasons to come down from the clouds, but you can’t be bothered. / hair twisted up with glitter butterfly clips like a haphazard mobile. / you drift, but you know where you’re going. / no one has any dirt on you because you’re infinitely spotless. / the empty side of your bed they crawled into when they were nine. / court hearings. / “ I miss you. ” / siblings are a funny thing. / they point out every family-shaped hole in every picture on the mantelpiece. / blackbird screaming / wake in nightmares / are you an illusion? / I don’t feel real. / who is in control?

where: somewhere on the side of the road, deadwood when: 28th august, afternoon who: closed / @luciahowls​

Luck didn’t seem to be on Amara’s side lately. Ever since the whole thing of Selene and Lucius betraying her trust and doing things she didn’t even want to think about was revealed, it seemed as though the whole world had a vendetta against her. Maybe her time had come and all her bad karma was coming back to bite her in the ass. And today’s karma came in the form of her being rear ended by the car behind her. 

Amara managed to somehow come to the conclusion that the accident was both Selene and Lucius’ fault as if she hadn’t been so distracted by the sight of the male in her rear view mirror, then she wouldn’t have been thinking about the whole fucked up situation, and then she would have been focused on the traffic lights ahead. But she hadn’t, and consequently, she slammed on her brakes to avoid running the red, leading the car behind to slam into her.

Normally, she would be able to talk her way out of it, and at most, she’d get a slap on the wrist and if she was really good at talking herself out of the mess, she might even get an apology from the other driver. Though as mentioned, luck was not on her side and they were not having any of it. All the cards that she had mastered didn’t seem to work at all; this was a territory that Amara Night was not familiar with at all. She wasn’t really sure how to resolve this, and frankly, she didn’t have the energy to do so anymore. For possibly the first time ever, she might actually have to admit defeat (though thank God no one she knew was here to witness such a thing). 

It was a slow night and Lucía was anxious. There had only been a couple of clients throughout the day and none of them had “hired” her more “significant” packages. Just the run of the mill services that were over before they had even started, that made Lucía more of an object that an actual participant, which made her even more anxious. It was the longer, more complex scenarios where she could morph into whatever the client wanted and rope them into the fantasy they thought they had created themselves, but in reality, Lucía liked to think it was herself the puppeteer. 

Plus, the full moon had come and gone like a vacation gone too soon and the woman’s muscles ached to transform again. It was always right after growing back her human flesh that was the hardest... Or was it in the perfect middle between the last full moon and the next? Or the few days before it happened again? When she could swear her voice got rougher, her green eyes deeper and her human teeth sharper? Probably all of the above. Probably every second of being forced to exist as a human, not as a weyr.

Lucía walked the streets of deadwood, feeling like she needed some sort of release. Maybe she could visit the Lusty Lady and rope a cute soul or two into treating her to a fancy dinner and then fucking their brains out. Maybe... Her eyes zeroed on a police car, a mess of blue and red lights and the hair on the back of her neck stood as she recognized the uniform who owned it. Some jackass whose name she couldn’t remember, who didn’t even bother on taking off his wedding ring before he threw a wad of taxpayer money at her and pulled down his pants. Who did not ask before he used his baton and cuffs, even though Lucía had specifically said she had rules against anything that could leave a long lasting mark on her body.

Making up her mind, she sauntered towards the police officer, who seemed to be interrogating a young blonde. Flashing her pearly whites, perfectly painted crimson lips and tugging her velvety black slip a little bit lower to expose more cleavage, she leaned against the girl’s car and interrupted their conversation in the ditziest tone she could muster. “Oooh, officer. Long time no see... I missed you.” Her hand trailed along the astonished man’s shoulder, down to caress the baton hanging from his belt. “...I see you’ve kept yourself busy.” She pouted pathetically, “Where have you been hiding?”

even as she’s apologizing the dragyn is analyzing the woman in front of her.  it’s an unconsious course of action she’s come to do every time she’s around people since her escape ( if you could even call mysteriously unfettered chains an escape ).   the new world she stumbled upon was vastly different than the one she left.  way back then , she was the most powerful thing.  nothing could cut through her hide and anything she turned her maw towards would met within her infernos.  but the world had advanced.  they had piercing metal bullets , nuclear warheads , and fire resistant materials.  she didn’t want to find out if they could harm her.  

not to mention how the supernatural had gone underground.  she used to fly around parsa and her empire with no fear of anyone seeing her.  often she’d take audience with her wings and scales displayed proudly.  as well as to intimidate foreign dignitaries.  but today , out of fear of those bullets and weapons of mass destruction , she had to hide.  in short , it only made her more paranoid and stressed.  

but the woman in front of her didn’t seem offensive.  no guns or warheads stored away beneath tight clothing.  the only thing she noted was the wolfy smell , combined with blood and scents of the forest.  a weyr.  probably feasting as she was enjoying her time in the sky.  a small smile came to her features.  

long ago she disproved her relation to the weyrcreatues.  their transformations were often bloody and excruciating whereas her scales and wings came with a sensation of joy.  the form hidden beneath their skin existed out in the wild without a human consious assigned to them.  but she was a creature only told in mythos.  she’d never come across another such as her.  even so ,  with predatory forms hidden beneath polyester clothing , she still felt some kinship with them.  

❝    neither did i.    but i suppose the early morning is the best time to enjoy the forest without any prying eyes.   ❞

Lucía can feel herself being scrutinized by the other woman, and she waited. Waited for the usual response of her body to this kind of behavior from a total stranger. It was instinctual, the curled lip turning into a snarl, the clenched shoulders, nails digging into her palms and the stretching her spine to its limits to add some statuture to her diminutive height. But the command from her brain never came. Like there was something blocking her defense and attack instincts. It was unsettling, even though she had felt it before. Around other weyrs. But she didn’t smell like the weyrs Lucia had encountered before. Not that she had much experience around them, but there was also the confusing feeling of when she came in contact with an alpha, or someone who outranked her. Granted, if she had been in wolf form, her tail would have surely been between her legs, head bowed. 

Her hands fidgeted in the presence of this woman and her somehow regal presence. Lucía had heard about other beings that “shape-shifted” but aside from the weyrbears and weyrpanthers, she wasn’t sure she knew about others. It had been 25 years since she had been thrown into the world of the supernatural, and she still kept her distance. It was all very confusing. And daunting, especially when they all collided in the same location. 

“I agree,” Lucía said softly, tugging on her sleeves. “Joggers and campers can be a pain. Very disruptive. There’s a baby scouts troop that likes to camp over by the south entrance that I find very amusing to watch... But still. They’re never here so early. And it’s nice.” She cleared her throat, stopping her uncharacteristic rambling. “Plus, they litter.”