𝙄 𝘼𝙢 𝙉𝙤𝙩 𝙈𝙮𝙨𝙚𝙡𝙛.

#𝗅𝗎𝗇𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗆𝗉𝗎𝗌 — independent, selective, private original character matthew "matt" whittmore, fandomless ( horror / supernatural based ). established 29, january 2020; cared for by char ( she/her, 28, pst ) please read rules before following. warning: triggering and mature material will be present; dni if not 21+.

— quick links: memes | head canons | carrd | thread tracker

lunatempus​:

                           Alright that clearly wasn’t the right thing to say. He knew it as soon as the words left his mouth, but there was no backtracking now. Instead, a long and tired sigh leaves him as she continued to go on with her paranoid trip. “Yea, you are bein’ a bitch,” he muttered shaking his head before tongue was dragging against bottom lip then against teeth. “For all you know I’m what? Who I say am and I’m doing what I said I’m doing?” he asked, rolling his eyes. Matt had dealt with her type before ( some tried to fight him while others did what she did, talk and point fingers. )

Hand came to rub at his jaw as bit back a laugh; the way she said that, she made it sound so easy to find his perp. “…ya know what,” he began, shaking his head as he held his hand out as if to keep her from talking. “Whatever. But you seriously need to get a hold of yourself an’ stop thinking every lone wolf that rolls through here is lookin’ for a fight or is lookin’ for you,” he muttered, moving to walk towards the hotel, but he came to a stop and turned partially to look at her. “Trust me, I’m older than I look an’ I know a thing or two ‘bout life and how being paranoid does more damage than good,” he stated before continuing to walk. Now he was thinking he should have just gone to bed.

This time the growl does erupt from her throat at the curse passing his lip, upper lip peeling back in the human approximation of a snarl and this might be the closest she’s ever come to feeling feral. Sure, she had said it first, but that didn’t mean he had to parrot it back. For one dizzying moment, she thinks she might actually be the one to initiate a fight and that’s when she knows this is going too far. Screwing her eyes shut, she takes a deep breath and counts to ten, then she does it again backwards, and then she gets up to five again before she can open her eyes without feeling they’ll be an angry wolf amber, til she feels more like herself.

“I’m not crazy, okay.” She says to his retreating back, finding it easier to explain herself when she doesn’t have to look him in the eyes. “And I’m not an aggressive person by nature, but I earned my distrust of other wolves through blood and broken bones and almost my life. And all I know is that somewhere out there is a man that literally ripped me open on the forest floor and left me to die and that as long as the both of us are still alive, then he has a connection to me and that one day he might follow that to take a peek at what he created. That terrifies me. And it could be any wolf I meet. It could have been you. I can’t afford to play innocent until proven guilty because I won’t survive a second time.”

With a sigh, she hooks two fingers in the high collar of her t-shirt and pulls it down to expose a bit of the severe scarring that even the change hadn’t been able to heal, eyes turned down and off to the side, not even sure if he’s going to turn and look at her at this point. She couldn’t really blame him, if he was who he said he was.

                           The growl that left her didn’t go unnoticed, but he had more years of practice with keeping himself from returning it. Plus he didn’t want to piss her off anymore than he already had; in his defense she had called herself a bitch, he was just confirming. But this was all getting out of hand and he just hopped that she was coming to that realization too. He just hoped that she kept her cool long enough for him to get further away and maybe turned around. Because there was nothing ( alright so that’s a stretch, he disliked a lot of things ) more than he hated was someone taking a cheap shot at him from behind.

However ears soon picked up on her voice and Matt was coming to a stop, once again, and turned to face her somewhat. He’s quiet for a long while, hands stuffed into pockets as he half looked at her and the building across the street. It was a story he knew all too well so any sort of resentment or anger he held for her washed away quickly. Sighing as she listened to her wrap up her explanation, the elder wolf turned to face her fully, eyes squinting as he watched her.

The placement of the bitemark, the being left for dead in the woods, and not knowing where her maker was was exactly his story. He remains quiet for a moment longer, hand dragging over his mouth as he slowly makes his way back towards her. That distance is still kept, but he’s closer than before, head tilting as he looked at her. “I’m not the wolf that turned you. I’ve never turned anyone in all my years of being a wolf,” he whispered, tone softer than before, “but you’re not the only one to have gone through somethin’ as traumatizing. I went through it ‘bout ninety years ago myself.” Denim jacket is shrugged off right arm before long-john sleeve is pulled off shoulder to reveal his own bite mark; it didn’t look as harsh as it had the first year, but it was still very much noticeable.

          @lunatempus​​

               Once beads in door were disturbed, she looked up to see Matt, then let herself continue what she was working on at the counter. “I’m working on your order now, actually.” Mortar full of herbs half ground was picked up a pestle was used to continue to crush them. “But if you need anything else… feel free to look around.”

                          Humming along to some tune in his head, Matt walked into the shop and gave the other a small wave. “Take your time, I don’t got nowhere to be,” he assured her as he moved to lean against the counter. “What’cha cookin’ for me anyhow?” he asked, having forgot about his order, only remembering because he had scribbled down a little reminder for himself.

@lunatempus​​ said: “First of all, I didn’t “miss” the red flags. I looked at them and thought: yeah, that’s sexy.” (shannon)

          tumblr text post sentence starters

               “You really went out of your way to find this for me?” The tome in hand was innocent looking enough, but it held a great power that she could feel radiating from it. “How did you find it?” Grateful as she was, she was somewhat speechless, in shock. “I’ll owe you a boon. Several to make up for this.”

                        Being around for a while had its perks. Making and keeping connections to those that could have their hands on anything he needed in a short period of time. That and he had a few favors he had been saving for the right moment and this seemed to be good as any. “Mmhmm. Well...not too far...had a warlock who owed me a favor,” he explained as he moved to sit down across from her, shaking his head at her. “Nope. It’s a gift. No boon’s or any kinda payment...just enjoy.”

@lunatempus​​ said: ‘ My head’s pounding, I can’t stand it! ‘ (shannon)

          vtm sentence starters

               She was quick to come around the counter and place hands on his temples. Warmth could be felt from her touch and small white lights appeared where she was healing him. She only spoke once she believed herself done and hands were by sides again. “And what is it that’s brought on such a burdensome headache?”

                         Shannon was the only one he thought could help. Normal over the counter drugs didn’t do the trick anymore. Nor did ignoring it and sleeping it off. So there he was, too damn early in the day with sunglasses firmly on his face to help shield the bright light from adding more fuel to the fire inside his head. Eyes squeezed shut as he felt her hands on either side of his head, jaw clenched and hands balled up into fists.

lunatempus​:

               When he came across the ad on a bulletin board, he hadn’t thought much of it. He didn’t think there’d be so much work to get done and caught up on, but it at least meant he’d have plenty to do while there. Sam seemed like the type of guy that would continue to work until he was dead on his feet and even then he wouldn’t stop. He didn’t really know what to think of the mans daughter, Alex, other than the fact that she didn’t seem like the type to be working on a ranch. She was nice though and there was something about her that was curious and intriguing.

“You don’t walk as heavy as your dad,” he mused, leaving out the fact that she had a different scent, her heart beat differently, and all the other factors that would have came across as weird information. “Thought you both were takin’ the day off?” he asked, brow arched as he watched her test the pole out. But he was confident in his work and knew that it would last for at least a couple of years or a strong blow from a hefty cow. “‘Cause really, I got all of this under control if you’d rather be doin’ something else.”

Lifting his shirt to capture a few droplets of sweat, Matt shrugged at the question. There was a lot to do, but logically he knew he wouldn’t get to it all today. So he was trying to narrow it down mentally and group like tasks together. “Finish up the fencing then maybe get started on the barbwire…depends on if those clouds off over there are bringing rain though,” he said nodding in the direction of dark clouds. He knew it was going to rain, could feel it, but that was left to himself.

“Right…of course.” She muttered at his explanation. Had she known his thoughts she would have asked him if she smelled like death, if her heart beat at all. She let out a little snort and shook the head of dark hair. “I’ve never taken a day off in my life. And neither has he. He’s been not taking them off a lot longer then me though so I’d work on him about that before you try to get me to.” Even on her bad days, horses still needed to be fed, cows still needed to be moved and checked…and well she needed to keep going. If she kept going, even with things like hiking or running through the woods, it was movement, most of the time harsh movement and it helped her brain not be so…well…her brain.

She shook her head. “I like working out here.” She told him before coming up with her own excuse. “If I don’t work myself down I have a hard time falling asleep.” She looked over at the rain clouds, keeping her eyes there as he mopped up the sweat. She was trying to seal herself out of those kinds of thoughts in general. She wasn’t going to have that sort of relationship again (her ex had made that perfectly clear) so she was training herself not to think about it. “I’ll dig the holes if you put in the posts. I need your help with something a bit up the mountain.” She stopped herself. “I mean if you can- or if you’re alright with doing the barbed wire tomorrow. I just have to do something in the old cabin and can’t reach it.” She hadn’t spent that much time with him but she was pretty sure he had done this before and knew the rules. Sam wouldn’t have hired him if he didn’t. “Please?”

               It’d been so long since he’d seen work ethic like they had. Times had changed and people didn’t put in much effort anymore which had surprised him seeing as his father had ground it into his mind that their way of living would always be the way. If only the old man could have seen how things had changed. “Well, maybe you both ought to take a break from time to time...does no good to work yourself into the ground ‘cause then you won’t be able to see what you’ve done,” he shrugged as he mopped a bit more sweat before shirt was smoothed out ( sort of, it now just kind of clung to his belt. )

lunatempus​:

                   What kind of answer could he expect? Nothing. He couldn’t expect anything from the other. Half of him didn’t even think the demon would answer, that he would just let it go and move onto something else. So when the silence fell upon them once more, he sucked in a deep breath and did his best to keep himself calm. But it was an important question ( one of many to be honest ) and it was one that had plagued him for many years, especially that night.

Many liked to compare werewolves to the common domesticated dog, that they shared similarities and they did. Matt had witnessed it that night for the first time with how he paced the floor in front of the front door, how he waited near the window, how he ran to look outside every time a car turned down their road. All of it because he was afraid Mason wouldn’t come home, that something would happen to him. The former came true and the latter, well, he hoped something would happen to him as hateful of a thought it was.

The ice in his glass was beginning to melt from the warmth of his hand, but he didn’t care. He didn’t dare move out of fear that the other wouldn’t answer him, that he would startle the other man if he did anything or said anything. So there he sat, listening to the deafening silence that surrounded them. Except for their hearts beating steadily in their chests until Mason’s wasn’t anymore. The sudden spike in heart rate was enough to pull his brows together, furrowing as he listened to it. He swallowed thickly as he did so, wondering what if but not allowing himself to look at the other, fearful of seeing that mask once more.

So his head remained downwards, neck stiffening up as he got lost in his thoughts, waiting for an answer. The ever feeling of mixed emotions continued to swirl around within him the longer the silence lasted and Mason’s quickened heart rate continued, the wolf grew more agitated, finally looking up when he heard the other begin to speak. He was met with that same controlled and stoic look on his face, but it wasn’t the worse thing.

No, what was worse was the forced answer that came from his lips ( lips that he had dreamed of kissing again, tasting, feeling against his own and more ) and it pulled at something. With more force than what was necessary, he all but slammed the glass on the table before he stood. There wasn’t enough space between them, he thought as he turned and walked away.

“Anywhere but h-home,” he finished for the other, a deep growl leaving him this time as he looked to the demon, eyes no longer their radiant blue color but instead the burning gold of the wolves. “Do you know how long I waited for you to come back!” he snapped, no longer able to bite his tongue. “Of course not! Because you never came back. You fucked off to New York! Europe! Anywhere that I wasn’t because, naturally, you didn’t give a damn!” his words echoed and carried in the room, jaw clenching as he stared at the other male, pacing the floor.

@lunatempus​​​​ | verse; never too late | title; there’s still good in you (Mason & Matt)

     The outburst didn’t surprise him. He expected it, after all. Nor the slamming glass—which now sported a hairline crack, beads of liquid escaping through it. Even the standing, the pacing, the anger—it was as Mason had predicted. The eyes, however, having turned golden caught him. Control had been a struggle for Matt back then. The years, he’d hoped, might have given him more experience in keeping the wolf from overtaking him. Uncertain of Matt’s willpower and control now—a fact that he regretted, immensely—Mason stood slowly from his seat. His eyes remained fixed on the werewolf. 

      The last time, the very last time, they’d had an argument of this magnitude was the night he left. The memories were as fresh now as if they’d happened only days ago. Put on edge by Matt’s anger and the growling, he readied himself should he try to fight him, lash out at him physically. He wouldn’t fight back, he wouldn’t hurt him. Even now, he kept his magic well contained. He’d used it before on him. Only once, but that had been enough to stay his hand and his impulses. There’d be no magic here. And if Matt hurt him? Well, he deserved it. There was no denying that. 

     It was words that cut him now, not tooth or claw. They cut deeper than any blade, but what welled up from it wasn’t blood but regret. 

     Facing him, Mason spoke in a quiet voice. “Je me suis toujours soucié. Je le fais encore.” I always cared. I still do. “You talk of things you do not understand. Of why I went away.” He thought of a certain letter that he’d written—a letter he’d never sent, stuffed angrily away, but full of the words that said what he could not then. Or now. “Tu étais ma maison. Et j'étais perdu de toi.” You were my home. And I was lost from you. “I had to leave. And every moment of it—” 

     Mason cut himself off, laughing sharply, teeth showing in his humorless smile. “Every moment of it agony. Every moment—” His heart had spiked again. He could feel the blood rushing, pulsing, power along with it and he took a deep breath to steady himself, to grab hold of what composure remained. “You do not know.”

     He took in another breath but it did not help this time. It was spiteful, he knew, to throw his words at Matt when he didn’t understand them. It was the only way he could say them, and better if they were heard and not understood, than understood and shunned. Though he’d taught him a little French in the time they were together, he wouldn’t know the words he gave him now, words he spoke under his breath, cutting his eyes away from him for only a second.

    “Je voulais seulement te protéger. Te sauver. Du monstre que je suis.” I only wanted to protect you. To save you. From the monster that I am.

     “Be angry with me,” he told him, looking back with an intense stare he didn’t dare break this time. “Hate me, if you will, but do not claim you know about me.”

                   Time continued to go on but somethings never did change. However, there had been some attempt of gaining better control of his wolf, so that his emotions didn’t win out all the time. But right now, the abrupt outburst, it was mild in comparison of what he could have done to the other. to sit there and to continue to listen to Mason’ heart increase or spike at certain points while his face was unmoving, it was torture for the wolf. The way his mind race as it tried to discern what it all meant, if it meant anything at all.

Gold eyes watched the demon move from his chair, nostrils flared as he breathed, hands balled up into fists. Matt was trying to calm himself, he was truly, but this was a moment that they should have had right after the other had left. Not some sixty years after the fact. It had been too long and too much time for the wolf to stew in his anger, resentment, and overall sadness had all taken over him. Even when he thought of the demon, the good memories were tainted and a bitter taste was left in his mouth.

“Because you left! You didn’t talk to me!” he replied, teeth bared before he turned away from him. His eyes screwed tightly shut as he pressed balled up hands to his temples; Calm down, you need to calm...down... It was a mantra that fell upon deaf ears, but Masons’ words did not. They brought confusion to the mix, more mixed signals as he couldn’t understand why he would leave and stay gone if it brought him agony. Bottom lip quivered as he fought the tears that threatened to fall. “What about my agony, Mason? What about me?” he whispered, shaking his head as he roughly wiped at his face as he listened to the French, hating how he hadn’t learned it so he could know what he was saying.

“That’s not fair,” he snapped, turning to face him once more, “you know I don’t understand and that’s not fair!” He sounded like a child being told no, but he was in the right unlike a spoiled child. Some words he had understood or they at least sounded familiar, but he was too much in his own mind that he couldn’t figure it out. Part of him didn’t want to figure it out, fear of what Mason was really saying to him, if it was hurtful or simply nothing at all. All he did know, was that his irritation was growing which was making the wolf more present despite his efforts to fight it.

lunatempus​:

                           Really, this could have gone so many different ways. A fight wouldn’t have been the least expected thing because he had been in a number of scraps here and there. It was, however, the least desirable option as there was no real need for them to get physical. So to keep the peace further, he stuffed his hands into his pockets while keeping a good bit of distance between them, eyes locked on her. Just because he didn’t want to fight didn’t mean she wouldn’t attack.

Brows furrow as she mentions the hotel he was staying in, head nodding slowly as one hand moved from pocket to point in the direction of it. “Yea, I’m stayin’ there and how the hell would I know you work there?” he asked, hand palm up before dropping at his side. “Following you? Jesus, lady, I don’t know who the hell you are nor do I care,” he sighed, shaking his head in utter disbelief. But she was scared and he could smell it which caused head to shake once more.

“I’m here on business and no, I’m not going to tell you what that business is, but I am not following you, I don’t know who you are so you really need to just…take a damn breath and calm the hell down ‘cause you’re gettin’ worked up for nothin’.“

“Don’t tell me to calm down. I’ve been in every inch of that hotel, I know you—” She cuts herself, only now realizing how loud she’d gotten as she catches an odd side eye from a couple now making their way out of the bar and to their car. She waits a beat for them to get inside before she continues, tone lowered and taking a small step towards him. “I know my scent is all over that place and then you happen to just walk to the bar after I made the same walk just a couple hours ago? Sorry if I’m being a bitch, but your story stinks. For all I know you’re—” Nope. She couldn’t go there. Even if that was the entire reason for her aggression at his presence. On the off chance, he was the one, she didn’t know if she could take knowing he was just out there in the world without a care.

“For argument’s sake, let’s say I believe you and this whole thing was a coincidence. Now you know this is my town. So I would appreciate it if you could finish whatever business you have here and leave. And avoid the bar while I’m there. There’s a liquor store three blocks from here where you can get the same stuff and probably cheaper. Deal?”

                           Alright that clearly wasn’t the right thing to say. He knew it as soon as the words left his mouth, but there was no backtracking now. Instead, a long and tired sigh leaves him as she continued to go on with her paranoid trip. “Yea, you are bein’ a bitch,” he muttered shaking his head before tongue was dragging against bottom lip then against teeth. “For all you know I’m what? Who I say am and I’m doing what I said I’m doing?” he asked, rolling his eyes. Matt had dealt with her type before ( some tried to fight him while others did what she did, talk and point fingers. )

♡ — MATTHEW WHITTMORE.

𝒎𝒊𝒔𝒄𝒆𝒍𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒆𝒐𝒖𝒔  𝒒𝒖𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔.

@elastixhearts​​​ (nadja) asked: ‘  do  we  simply  stare  at  what’s  horrible  and  forgive  it ?  ’

                 “Sometimes. Only thing that can be done,” he murmured with a soft sigh. Leaning against the bar some more, the wolf reached for a napkin to wipe away the ring his beer left before placing the bottle on the paper. Looking from the bottle to the vampire, he shrugged as he continued, “I don’t like it. Never have…nor have I really forgiven anything bad. But there comes a point in time where that’s all I can do. Watch as it happens before walkin’ away.”

               ❝ What if we can’t? What if there’s absolutely nothing left to say or do to earn any forgiveness at all? ❞ There was no way in hell that she would be able to find it in herself to forgive Abraham for the unspeakable things that he had done to her, not to mention what she had witnessed him do to many other innocent people. The monster that was her maker had stalked her and murdered her family just to be able to have her. He claimed to love her, but he must not have known what that truly meant.

                 They both had been turned into something else against their will. That kind of forgiveness was not easy nor was it easy to process. In truth, he hadn’t forgiven the wolf that turned him almost a hundred years ago, but he also knew he couldn’t stay hating the other and wasting his life away. So he was quiet for a moment as he thought about her question, a small breath leaving him after a moment or two. “Maybe you don’t have to forgive it directly but just...stop thinking about it? Why it happened to you, why you’re still here, why, why...” he trailed off before adding, “if that makes sense.”

lunatempus​:

                           There were codes and a structure in their world. Territories were generally a pack thing, but lone wolves could lay claim to towns too. He just hadn’t noticed an overwhelming scent until he got outside the door. However, he should have known better given his age and being around for a while, seeing and doing a lot of things. But he was going to chalk it up to being tired and just having one track mind; a decent drink then bed.

Though he was very much above it, he would have rolled over and shown her his stomach if need be, just for a damn beer. It seemed nothing would get him what he wanted, not when she was looking at him and directing him outside. A sigh left him as eyes closed for a moment before he was sluggishly moving off the stool and moving towards the door. He wouldn’t fight her if it came to it, not because he had any doubts in himself, but because he didn’t want to hurt her.

Pushing the door open, met with the warmish air of the night, Matt looked towards her as he took a few steps forward. “Listen, I didn’t know anyone laid claim here alright?” he began, coming to a stop, leaving a good amount of space between them. “I just got into town, obviously an’ this bar is closest to where I’m stayin’…”

She can appreciate that he’s wise enough to give her space, even if her expression doesn’t share that fact, arms crossed over her chest as her eyes sweep over him, calculating her chances if this comes to a fight. He’s got some size on her but she’s fast. Still, she’d rather it not come to blows. The woman had never fought another wolf before or really anyone besides a girly scrap in her freshman year of high school and that had been a lot more hair pulling than anything else.

The brunette is so busy sizing him up, she almost misses his words. The nearest place to the bar to get a room was…No. He had to be fucking with her. Maybe this was some weird form of werewolf humor that she didn’t get because she’d never had a pack.

“You mean the Stratford Hotel? Where I also work. Yeah, I’m sure that’s just a big coincidence too, right?” She huffs out a harsh breath at the absurdity of it all. “Just…Are you following me?” Fingers dig into her upper arms, trying to ground herself as she hears the tremor in her own voice at the question. Do not show fear!

                           Really, this could have gone so many different ways. A fight wouldn’t have been the least expected thing because he had been in a number of scraps here and there. It was, however, the least desirable option as there was no real need for them to get physical. So to keep the peace further, he stuffed his hands into his pockets while keeping a good bit of distance between them, eyes locked on her. Just because he didn’t want to fight didn’t mean she wouldn’t attack.

Brows furrow as she mentions the hotel he was staying in, head nodding slowly as one hand moved from pocket to point in the direction of it. “Yea, I’m stayin’ there and how the hell would I know you work there?” he asked, hand palm up before dropping at his side. “Following you? Jesus, lady, I don’t know who the hell you are nor do I care,” he sighed, shaking his head in utter disbelief. But she was scared and he could smell it which caused head to shake once more.

♡ — MATTHEWS WHITTMORE.

                           Being out around people was still nerve wracking. It’d been close to two years since the incident and he was still ( rightfully ) adjusting. However Matthew could not keep himself locked away every night out of fear of the moon or the very notion of other people ( though he wasn’t entirely another human was he? ) So he had gone over a few towns to see what was playing at the theater that doubled as a theatre for plays and other performances. He’d been only once or twice with his parents when he’d been a child, but he remembered enjoying watching the dancers on stage, finding them to have such grace and pose.

Having bought tickets for a horror movie ( it was the only thing showing unfortunately ) Matthew did his best to enjoy the film. However he could not have been more thankful nor relieved when it came to an end, the man nearly running from the theater. It wasn’t because he found it to be terrifying as the maker of the film had intended, but because he was riddled with anxiety, anxious to be sitting among so many people. Plus, watching the horrors of fiction played out on the screen drawing shrills and shrieks from the audience, he foresaw his life if anyone were to know of his affliction.

Following everyone out and into the brisk night, the young man took a few deep breaths to steady himself. In doing so, he wrinkled his nose when he caught the scent of something that reeked of death. He had no interest in finding the source of such a smell, his attention being pulled from it when he heard a faint voice. Looking to the woman, brows slightly arched in curious wonderment, he shrugged at her question before glancing back at the closing doors. “Silent picture film, The Cat and the Canary,” he answered, moving down a few steps until he was on the sidewalk, turned partially away from her. “It was fair. You didn’t miss much.”

               Nadja couldn’t help but to note that it had been some time since she had been escorted to see a film or performance of any kind as of late. Abraham never neglected the opportunity to take her out to see what was new, knowing how much she loved the performance arts. She had been involved in it since she was a little girl who danced around her small home in Russia, frustrating her mother as she got in the way and annoying her father as he worked long hours and had to come home to a hyperactive daughter. That’s when they threw her into the world of ballet and she never looked back. Performance arts had been her entire life and in some ways it still was. It helped her escape the tragedy when she stared at the stage, the story being presented speaking volumes through song and dance. It was beauty. Abraham had made it her tragedy, as he had sought her out and charmed his way into her life before taking it all away. She should have been damned for ever being a ballerina. His eyes never would have found her then, but not even he could take away her love for the arts.

               There was a small smile on her face as he commented on the lack of entertainment the silent film seemed to have possessed. ❝ To each their own, I suppose, ❞ she commented out loud, eyes still evasive. If Abraham was watching her, what then would happen if he saw her speaking to another? These things, however harmless they may seem, she still feared. ❝ Perhaps I’ll see it soon and see just how fair it is. ❞ Even if her smile was still small, it hinted at some playfulness.

                           The unpleasant smell lingered and an uneasy feeling unaccompanied it. Maybe it was just the anxiousness he still felt riddling his body further in an attempt to get him to leave faster. However, he wasn’t about to just leave as he had struck up a conversation with the woman on the steps. Eyes closed briefly as he turned his head away, a feeble attempt to calm himself before he looked to her again. A smile was returned as he shifted from foot to foot, “I didn’t think it was as frightful as its maker had intended,” he mused, scuffing his foot against the pavement.

lunatempus·:

                           Having been around for quite a while and dealing with all types, Matt was a little more subtle about recognizing other werewolves. He knew the bartender was one, he could smell her even before he opened the door, but he was focused. Somewhat anyways, he couldn’t deny that he was curious about the other wolf. Well, that was until she spoke and his brows were furrowing as eyes fell the television to her face. Single brow arches as he digests her words before he looks to the row of beer tabs then back to her.

“I think I like almost all of those beers,” he said pointing a finger at them, both brows now arched as he looked at her. “Is this a us thing or are you just not a fan of people from out of town?” Matthew asked as his hand came to rest on the bar atop the other. “‘Cause I gotta tell ya somethin’, that’s a bit rude,” he teased, but he knew it was because of the wolf thing. And in truth, any other night, he would have avoided this bar because of her, but he just wanted a drink before getting some sleep.

So with a sigh, head dropped for a moment before he was looking back up at the woman. “Can I just get a couple beers and the shot then I’ll be out of your hair? Can even charge me extra,” he bargained, not wanting to walk any further despite the idea of stretching his legs sounding good.

The bartender could feel a growl building up in her throat and she violently tamps down the urge to let it out. She is not an animal. She is in control of herself, as much as the beast inside of her may wish that wasn’t true. Still, the way he just sauntered into her bar without a care in the world as if he owned the place had her feeling…territorial. It’s not a feeling she’s used to and not one she likes very much. Obviously, the cure for said feeling is getting this man out of her bar as soon as possible. Even his backtrack and offer of more money isn’t enough to settle the feeling in her stomach.

“Jesse!” She shouts towards the waiter busing one of the table in the back as she rips her apron over her head and tosses it on the bar. “I’m taking my break. Cover the bar.”

With narrowed eyes, Camille faces the wolf again, jerking her head towards the front door. “You. Outside, now.” She doesn’t wait to see if he’s going to listen to her, storming out the front door and into the parking lot, sucking in greedy lungful's of fresh air, not untainted, but carrying less of his scent. Even if he doesn’t end up coming out to confront her, she’s not feeling particularly safe to be around her human patrons right now. And perhaps she hadn’t liked being in the confined space with the other wolf either, because when it came down to it, she knew what all of this aggression really was deep down: fear.

                           There were codes and a structure in their world. Territories were generally a pack thing, but lone wolves could lay claim to towns too. He just hadn’t noticed an overwhelming scent until he got outside the door. However, he should have known better given his age and being around for a while, seeing and doing a lot of things. But he was going to chalk it up to being tired and just having one track mind; a decent drink then bed.

Though he was very much above it, he would have rolled over and shown her his stomach if need be, just for a damn beer. It seemed nothing would get him what he wanted, not when she was looking at him and directing him outside. A sigh left him as eyes closed for a moment before he was sluggishly moving off the stool and moving towards the door. He wouldn’t fight her if it came to it, not because he had any doubts in himself, but because he didn’t want to hurt her.

lunatempus·:

@fortunefavours· (camille) gets a thingie thing.

                            Another town, another case, and another hotel. It was late, the drive having taken longer than expected but he hadn’t swerved off the road and landed in a ditch. So he was counting it as a win despite being behind schedule. He was thankful the hotel still had a few rooms vacant so he was quick to book it for a couple weeks, but he was hoping it’d be less. Any case that went past three weeks, he knew it was a waste of time and money unless proved otherwise.

With his things dropped off at the room, Matt remembered having seen a bar not even a block away. Probably wasn’t the wisest decision, but he figured it’d be a good spot to start looking for his next paycheck ( that’s all these cases were after all. ) Bars were a good place to find information either directly or indirectly, make his presence known too because sometimes it worked and got things moving faster.

After making the short walk, the wolf walked through the door and looked around before he moved to the bar, taking up a stool. “Pint of whatever you got on tap an’ a shot of whiskey,” he told the woman behind the bar with a small smile before his eyes moved to the television in the corner. He didn’t care about the game that was on, but he also couldn’t just look around and stare at people, would be too creepy.

The night was already shaping up to be the slowest of the week and Camille was regretting picking up the shift when she knew she had to be up bright and early to work at the hotel the next day. There was a couple in a back booth that she was fairly sure were having an affair and didn’t want any of her attention on them and two older regulars at the end of the bar chatting and watching the game who she thinks might know where things are behind the bar better than her, so all in all, she’s feeling pretty superfluous. And bored. Excruciatingly so. Of course, a minute after that, she’ll be wishing she’d never even thought the words as God seems to be pulling a cruel trick on her.

Embarrassingly, she smells him before she actually sees him, though the brunette has no intentions of ever admitting that as he settles on the stool across from where she had been wiping the bar down, causing her lips to turn down in a frown. That was it? He wasn’t even going to mention it, give some sort of clue? If she could smell him, she knew he could smell her too, as much as the whole idea of it weirded her out, and she found herself a little incensed that he was pretending it wasn’t happening. That and her own natural distrust of other wolves has her skipping the pleasantries all together. “I don’t think you’d like what we serve here. Maybe try the bar down the street.”

                           Having been around for quite a while and dealing with all types, Matt was a little more subtle about recognizing other werewolves. He knew the bartender was one, he could smell her even before he opened the door, but he was focused. Somewhat anyways, he couldn’t deny that he was curious about the other wolf. Well, that was until she spoke and his brows were furrowing as eyes fell the television to her face. Single brow arches as he digests her words before he looks to the row of beer tabs then back to her.

“I think I like almost all of those beers,” he said pointing a finger at them, both brows now arched as he looked at her. “Is this a us thing or are you just not a fan of people from out of town?” Matthew asked as his hand came to rest on the bar atop the other. “‘Cause I gotta tell ya somethin’, that’s a bit rude,” he teased, but he knew it was because of the wolf thing. And in truth, any other night, he would have avoided this bar because of her, but he just wanted a drink before getting some sleep.